Sarah Greenwod's Diary, Star0912 [best free e reader .txt] 📗
![](/uploads/posts/books/5/4/0/8/star0912-sarah-greenwod-039-s-diary.jpg)
- Author: Star0912
Book online «Sarah Greenwod's Diary, Star0912 [best free e reader .txt] 📗». Author Star0912
My name is Sarah Greenwood, and I have just turned 13! We live in Boston, by the Boston Harbour. Father is a fisherman, and also a Patriot.
I have older twin sisters named Edith and Elaine, who are both 15, and a younger brother named William.
My best friend is Felicity, she also lives near the Boston Harbour above her shop. This journal was given to me by my grandmother in New Bern, North Carolina the last time we visited her over the Holidays. She was very sick then, and died soon after our visit. I hope to keep this journal in memory of her and write in it.
February 1770:
Tension is in the air. Boston used to be bustling and a happy town. Now, it is a sad and mopey town, as if there was a sleeping spell over it.
Mother will hardly let me out as much with Edith or Elaine. William is getting restless staying inside too much. I want to see my friends. I want to see Felicity.
Father is a Patriot. Meaning he is fighting for America. Father’s best pal, Arran turned traitor and became a loyalist. They got into a loathsome row, and now he won’t talk at all. Father says that he’s lost his mind. The British did this. The British did that.
Why must it be this way? Why can’t we all live in peace independently. Alone. It’s my wish, so that everyone in America can be happy again.
Of course I admit that we do owe something to Britain for them fighting off the French, but we already give them our most valuable crops, and harvests. And fish of course! We also follow our own colony rules.
Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that enough to fulfill and satisfy Britain? But I suppose King George isn’t.
Sometimes Father and Mother argue. They stay up, and talk in hushed voices. William comes into my room, and we both stand by the stairway, listening to what we can hear.
Elaine and Edith sometimes stay up with us. At 15, Elaine has a beau. He’s in the army right now but she’s always writing. Always. Never ending letters pour into her room and she answers every one.
When will this war end? It’s all over something very childish, and immature. It’s foolishness, and troublesome. When will this world be at peace again?
March 5th, 1770
Mother is finally going to let me out today! William and I are going to town to buy and purchase some produce, because we were running low on products.
Elaine and Edith are doing embroidery, so William and I are now off. I hope that Felicity is there, so that maybe we could talk.
When I came back... There was a riot. A group of Patriots were provoking British soldiers protecting a building in Boston. William and I quickly ran away, and bought our food. By the time we came back, it was worse. People were throwing rocks, taunting and daring the soldiers to shoot the gun.
Then a gun shot out. I grabbed William’s hand, and ran for my life. Dropping eggs along the way. Something hit my shoulder, and I fell to the ground into a dark alley.
“Sarah!” William cried, running to my side.
“Run!” I shouted. “Run home, I’ll come back, I promise.”
My arm was searing with pain, and I sucked in another breath.
“But..” he protested looking at my pain-stricken face.
“Run!” I told him fiercely.
He picked up the basket of food, and then with his small arms he ran. He looked back once before he crossed through the battle, running his head ducked, as he safely made it to the other side.
I closed my eyes in pain, and lifted up the sleeve on my arm, and saw blood. I wiped it away with my apron, staining the snow white fabric. A rock was thrown at my arm, and it had made a gash. I thought I was going to die here like this, but I couldn’t. I had promised William I would come home.
I looked out from behind an empty crate. The fighting was still continuing. I saw people fall to the ground. I ducked my head behind the crate and closed my eyes.
Moments later, someone else ran in. I had looked up fearfully, hoping it was not a Red coat.
My wishes never come true. It was a British soldier. I sucked in a breath of fear, hoping he wouldn’t notice me. He noticed me anyway.
“You all right young lady?” he asked.
I was much too frightened to answer him back. He smiled his blue eyes glinting.
“I won’t so much as hurt you.”
“Then what are you doing here?” I bursted. “Shouldn’t you be out there fighting for Britain?”
He shrugged, his gun on his shoulder. “We’re just here on Britain’s orders, and besides that,” he sighed, “we can’t go back. Britain’s too poor to send us back.”
I thought that was weird at the moment.
“But that means that the Quartering Act, it’s not real? I mean it’s not like needed?”
He shook his head. “No. When they sent in British Troops, they recruited everyone they could find. I’m only 16. My friend’s brother, he’s 13. He was sent here too.” He looked back down.
“Well then, what’s your name?” he asked, smiling.
“Sarah.”
“Just Sarah?”
“NO! It’s Sarah Greenwood!”
“I see. Then I am Carter Matthews.”
“Aahhhuuuuuccchhhh!” I screamed, as I accidentally brushed my raw arm against the splintered wood.
Carter looked at me, terrified. “What’s wrong?”
“My arm...” I managed, to say, my arm tormenting me.
He looked out towards the battle, than back into the alley. “I wonder...... of course!” he turned back to me, and scooped me up in one arm.
“What are you...?”
He didn’t answer but he ran into the dark alley, carefully making his way into the dark, carefully not tripping over anything.
“How do you know where to...?”
“I’ve been here for 2 years now. I know the ins-and outs of this place.”
I blushed furiously. Carter looked down at me.
“You okay there Miss Sarah?”
I nodded, the pain had died down now. I looked up again, out toward the never ending darkness, and then saw some light.
He carried me to my home, and my mother cried when she saw me. Carter put me down carefully, as she hugged me tight. So tight I couldn’t breathe. She hugged Carter too, even though she clearly saw he was a Red Coat. She offered him a place to stay tonight, and he gladly excepted. William came out, his face tear stricken. He hugged me tightly.
“You didn’t break your promise.” he sighed happily.
Elaine and Edith ran out, and both embraced me.
“You bad girl, having such a handsome British man carry you!” they teased.
Carter treated my wounds, I cringed sometimes, but he wrapped it in bandages.
“Make sure you keep this on for a long time.”
I nodded carefully.
We quickly ate supper after that, which was boiled potatoes and fried fish in thanks that I was still alive, and that Carter had saved me. I went to bed soon after that.
March 12th, 1770
I was told later here, that this battle, was not a battle, but a massacre. Such a strong word during these times. Massacre. Carter eventually left, but not without saying goodbye.
“Thank you.” I said, as I escorted him out to town.
“You’re welcome.”
I waved him goodbye in front of the Boston building. Inside my heart, I had promised. I won’t forget you. I won’t forget you at all.
December 24th, 1772
It’s Christmas Eve, but Father isn’t here tonight. He’s at a secret town meeting. They are planning something and I know it’s not good. It never is good. Mother is starting to become paranoid about letting us out. Even though it’s been 2 years, she’s still scared. The scar from the rock is still there. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it doesn’t.
December 14th, 1773
I’m 16 now, so father let Elaine, Edith and I into a little secret to be kept from our
mother. Father is going to participate in a riot.
“You won’t get killed, right father?” Edith asks.
“No, they won’t know who we are,” he comes closer, and whispers into our ears.
“We’re going to be dressing up as Indians.”
“Father!” I protest. “That’s not nice to the Indians! What if they get blamed?”
He ponders, then gets mad at me. “Do you want us to be independent or not?”
Truthfully, I really don’t know. But dumping all their tea just seems cruel. It just does.
December 16th, 1773
Tonight is the night. Elaine has decided to stay home, answering her beau’s letters, but Edith, Felicity, and I all go. We go up to the top of Felicity’s roof, and watch from there. A clear view of what they are going to do.
Inside of my heart, I am confused. I am an American, I know that but still... What we’re doing to them just seems unfair. Maybe I have just been influenced by Carter. I don’t know. Confusion fills my heart. If I tell anyone about these feelings, than I will most likely be sent to prison.
America is America, but I think we have just gone too far.
It has started. I see all these men walk out behind the fisherman’s building, and aboard the British ship. They all have feathers in their hair. How strange. But of course, they are trying to dress up as Indians. They start shouting, and before I know it, tea is being dumped into the ocean. What a waste of tea. It’s terrible. The once clear, moonlit water, is not turning into a pile of green gunk. A strong smell of tea comes up.
“I’m going.” I announce, standing up.
“Why?” Felicity asks, her eyes glued to the event.
I make up an excuse. “My arm, it’s acting up, starting to hurt.”
Edith nods. “I’ll be back.”
I go down the stairs, and run back lifting my skirt to run faster.
I want to get away from all those screams. I want to be away. It’s just wrong what we’re doing.
I bang into someone, slip than fall into their arms.
“Watch where you’re going, Sarah Greenwood, or you’ll end up hurting that other arm of yours.”
I could recognize that voice anywhere. Carter’s.
Looking up, I saw him again. It had been 3 years but I hadn’t forgotten a thing.
“Carter, it’s a pleasure to see you again!” I said happily. “I thought you would have forgotten us.”
“I could never forget you.” he murmured.
I blushed deeply.
“Well, I uh... have to get going. Riot down at the harbour.”
I nod. “Please be careful.”
“Will do Sarah Greenwood.” He salutes to me, than marches off.
I think now, the British are very angry. All that tea is such a waste.
August 23rd, 1774
We have been living under the Intolerable Acts for a while now. I knew something would happen. The British have become so angry, they have passed a new series of laws over.
Comments (0)