The Revolutionary war ended in a hurry. The war of brothers had started in about the same way two years ago. My father is the governor of Charleston and as everybody else tells me, a war hero. But who am I? Well I’m William Gray.

My brother joined the military two years ago right when the war started, against my father’s wishes. I haven’t seen him since. To add to the conundrum of high stress in my life, the war has entered Charleston…

BOOM. I cringed as I heard the musket fire right outside of the manor. Then suddenly there was a rattling on the door, it continued for many breathless seconds. I stood at the top of the stairs staring at the door. I saw father walk from his study to the door, creeping along with a handheld musket in one hand and a lantern in the other. He opened the door only to have my older brother Randall, bloody and out of breathe, collapse into him. Barely able to stand, Randall limped to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

I walked in wide-eyed like I’d seen a ghost. My father wasn’t speaking and my brother already had blacked out. Blood was spreading like a rose on my brothers white undershirt. I looked as my father unbuttoned the shirt and dressed the wound. It looked bad, but he had only been grazed.

The next morning my brother was already up. We could hear celebration going on through out the city, but not the good kind, the northerners had won. That means they would be here soon. Obviously father had heard it too. I looked at him, and he could obviously see I was scared.

“What do we do father?” I asked sounding like a small child.
“We run,” He exclaimed already heading out of the room, muskets in each hand.

We walked out into the bright, bright sunlight and I tried to keep up. I started to daydream after awhile, looking dreamily at the sky. I looked down to find myself alone, my father nowhere to be seen. Even worse, I was in the middle of Charleston, surrounded by northerners.

“Ello Chap!” one of the northerners exclaimed. I looked at him curiously. “G’night,” one said as he slammed me in the face with the butt of his gun, I tried to hold on to reality but my sight was already swirling, darkness coming fast. Then he hit me again, there was no battle, I was unconscious immediately.

I woke up in a small camp in the middle of a forest, surrounding me were plenty of tents. The man that had hit me now looked down at me like I was an alien. I tried to stand up only to find that I couldn’t. He laughed hysterically. I blacked out, after-all; if I didn’t go to sleep they would make me.

The next time I awoke I was alone, this time in a tent. I found I could stand this time, so I stumbled out of the tent half awake. All of the other tents were gone. There was just one man standing by the river filling a few canteens. Without thinking I just started charging the man, and when I got close enough I tackled him. He and I stumbled into the river for many moments exchanging hits and cursing under our breaths. We slowly picked ourselves up out of the river, gasping for breath. We eyed each other, the breath was knocked out me and I fell on my back, the man had been my father…

That night we sat around a fire. He was telling me the story of how he saved me.


“I needed some help convincing the northerners to leave”. Just then the captain of Charleston’s militia walked out of the trees.


“We almost lost you there me lad.”…