(A/N: Hey guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I know the title and picture may be deceiving, and I apologize! I honestly have no idea what to title this story, but since it is about the Coercive Acts, I figured King George III would be a nice figure to have on the front. Anyways, enjoy the story!)
Summary: John Silver, a man born into the New England colonies is angry with the British Parliament. He decides to take part in an act that may change his perspective of the world he knows. He and his dearest friend James, however, have a deep secret that could cause life to fall apart. Will he survive through the dastardly events? Read this narrative to discover the true meaning of his lives. (Yes, I meant lives.)
Young John nestled into his mother's warm chest as she hummed a fine tune. A lullaby to soothe the small infant who had only been born months before.
Back and forth moved the newly invented rocking chair the mother sat upon. Little John slowly fluttered his eyes as he fell into a light sleep. His mother softly faded out of the lullaby.
"You are, indeed, very extraordinary. Always treasure that." The mother placed a kiss on her baby boy's forehead and kept rocking.
Soon enough, she had fallen asleep in the small house they lived in. John's mother had moved from London to the New England colonies.
She was looking for a new life after she and her family had gotten separated. She met her husband while taking a stroll downtown and John was born in Massachusetts not shortly after.
This was the start of a Revolution.
I follow as my dearest friend, James walks into the local tavern in Boston, Massachusetts to attend the "gathering" the sons of liberty were hosting,
the harsh December weather causing us to walk at a pace faster than usual. Today was the date that we would surreptitiously meet to destroy the tea.
We had been arranging this get together for a while. The taxes that the British gave were absurd.
I tie my long blond hair back into a ponytail, so it wouldn't fall on my favorite lime-colored outfit.
"All of this "Taxation without Representation" needs to end." I think to myself. "Even an act of tyranny might create some type of removal of the taxes." As I sit down, Sam Adams stands up.
"Gentlemen of Boston. The hour has arrived." We all go silent as he continues.
"You probably know me as Sam Adams, citizen, and friend. Hear me now."
He clears his throat as we sit up, eager for his next sentence.
"Parliament continues to treat us with hostility. First, the Sugar Act raised our taxes. Did we have a say?"
"No!" all the men yelled in impassioned voices.
"Then came the horrid Stamp Act which had us ruined, and did I discuss the Boston Massacre and all of the lives lost?" Everyone in the crowd is yelling in rage.
"We must put an end to the tea tax!" We all protested. James and I raise our fists in agreement.
We all rise and cheer. We know what's coming next. I begin to put feathers on my head and apply mud to make marks on my face.
I saw James in my peripheral vision and I motioned for him to come over. We ride in the night to the Boston Harbor.
Everyone feeling an ounce of guilt, we find the ship we are looking for. We climb, hands red from the bitter frost. Finally, we reach the tea.
We all grin at each other, weight tugging on the bottom of our stomachs. We lift the crates of tea, which were surprisingly light.
Heart aching and eyes gleaming as the cream-colored moon shines onto the cursed ship, I take a deep breath and empty a crate of tea into the harbor.
Men surrounding me, yelling in desperate tones, for the parliament has been so unfair to our innocent souls.
I lift another crate of tea and dump it into the harbor when all of a sudden I see white, I feel emptiness. Suddenly, I see color once again.
"Apologies, sir." Says one of the men dressed as a Native American.
"What happened?" I stutter, breathing heavily. I bit my lip. Holding onto all hope that one of my lives hadn't been lost.
"I was carrying a tea chest and it fell on your head. You howled and fell to the ground."
I redden uncomfortably, "Oh, you do not have to worry about it, sir."
I arose and brushed off my shirt. I was still on the ship. Two lives were all that was left.
I glanced over and noticed that most of the tea boxes that were once filled with the tea leaves are now as barren as a man's pockets are with the tea tax.
Everyone around me yells and applauds and we start to climb off of the ship. My dearest friend James by my side. He pats my back and chuckles.
"That was amusing." He states.
I look at him with a smirk on my face that soon turns into laughter. Little did we know, this would only be the beginning.
I wake up suddenly in my small bed, wrapped under the covers due to the frigid temperature outside. At first, I had no idea why I would have woken up, but then I hear a knock on my door.
I opened it and there is a soldier outside. He pushes the door open without acknowledging my presence. He starts to invite himself in when I push him back.
"Excuse me sir, but what do you think you're doing?" He turns around to face me and scoffs.
"How dare you try to speak with me like that? I have the right to stay and you know that!"
I gasp in shock. "You have no right that allows you to be here. Leave now."
"Sir, may I ask if you have heard of the Coercive acts from the king?"
I sigh. King George had been taking advantage of us for years.
"I'm assuming you are allowed to stay?" I growl.
"Indeed." He replied smugly.
"Well, I'm not just going to let you inside." I laugh.
"You must." He orders.
"I will not." I talk a little louder this time, and more sternly.
"Well then, let you be burning tonight." He grins evilly.
I grit my teeth. "Bring it on." I had no idea what I was doing. "What have I gotten myself into?" I thought, regretting.
I see the soldier pull out something, and then I feel the same sort of nothingness I felt while dumping the tea off of the harbor. Then just white. I wake up, gasping and coughing.
I felt soft fabric around me, realizing I was in some sort of bag. I had died. That makes one life. I could hear muffled voices around me.
"Colonists should not even think of trying to reason with soldiers."
-Instantly I realized that the person being discussed was me. I start to strike at the sealed bag. This was my last life, I cannot waste it.
I try to tear the fabric with my teeth but it is no use. I feel motion around me. I hear the rocks crunching under the two people's feet. They whisper about how great of a fire I may be.
Or at least that is what I can predict. That's when I realized I was getting executed. Suddenly the crunching stops and I am blinded by the bright sun.
I stand up quickly and try to run. I notice a fresh wound on my ankle but there is no stopping now. I run as fast I am able, in what appears to be a tall forest.
The adrenaline rushing through my veins making it easy to sprint even with an open wound. I run, the day quickly going by.
Eventually, the two people disappear and I see several buildings ahead of me. I sprint to the nearest shelter and decide to knock on the door. It is a small press shop.
A man who appears to be a slave opens the door. He calls over his master and he walks over to the door. The slave leaves to go do other work.
I am gasping and trying to catch my breath as the man notices my throbbing wound.
"Sir, are you alright? Sir?"
I wince in pain. "Please help me, soldiers were trying to kill me and my wound is going to get infected. Do you know where the nearest nurse is?"
The man kneeled down and examined my injury.
"My wife is a nurse. If you have enough money we can take care of your wound."
I nod frantically. He leads me up the stairs of the press shop into a small house on top of it. We find his wife. She looks startled when she sees me.
"Who is this, Thomas?"
he gives her a look that tells her to stay calm.
"Do not panic, dear, this is just a local who needs care for his wound." She motioned for me to sit down and I do so. She examines my wound.
"I can take out the bullet, but it will cost a great amount of money." I gulp and hand her all that my pockets can offer. She sighs and starts to work.
I groan in pain as she takes the bullet out of the still-open wound and wraps my ankle in a bandage. No. I have to be strong. I hold in my pain and agony no matter how much I desire to yell.
"I can't doubt myself, I have to believe." I think.
"I advise that you stay off of that leg for as long and often as you can.
Do not forget to take the bandage off occasionally to let the cut get fresh air, even though I guess that it will most likely scar, unfortunately. I nod and thank the nurse and her husband.
I leave the shop and notice that dusk had already arrived. I look around for a place to stay for the night. I find a hay bail between two shops and lay down on it.
I dreamed that I had returned home, and hugged James excitedly. But he had pushed me away with aggression and angrily stormed off.
My eyes shoot open and I see the bright morning has returned. I decide it's time to start walking. I walk around until I see something I remember, though I could be in a totally different state.
Maybe a different colony, even. The only possible way to get back to where I was previously is to walk. The wound doesn't matter anymore.
A/N: Visit my page for page two!