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Bayonets - Part One
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Bayonets - Part One
A union spy(he's a kid!) attempts to get back to the capital to relay his info. The first part in the story.
[1,278 words]
[March 2001]
How To Make An Essay Into A Poem (Poetry) Very short, but effective poem about the ingredients of a poem. [23 words]
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Weird Al's Teacher-Like Qualities (Essays) Gives an explanation of how I think that Weird Al Yankovic (famous comedic songwriter) would make a great teacher. [431 words]
Bayonets - Part One

I was woke by a gunshot. I sat bolt upright, and reached for my rifle at the side of my bed. I quickly got up and sneaked over to the window, where I peered out and saw a gut-wrenching sight. Before me I saw my father, bleeding profusely from the head due to the gunshot I had heard. But what horrified me greater still was whom I saw next to him.
They were confederate soldiers, and on horseback too. They had not seen me yet, but I dared not look for much longer. I knew immediately what I had to do. I propped my gun up on the windowsill and took careful aim at one of the men�s chest. I breathed in, then let half of it out and squeezed the trigger. A loud bang occurred and the man fell from his horse and the others instantly whirled around to see who the shooter was.
I quickly crouched down, and pieces of wood and glass shattered down on my head. They had seen me, but their bullets could not pierce the timber of our cabin. I started to reload as quickly as I could, knowing that my life depended on my speed.
When I heard the gunshots stop, I risked a glance at the window. They had dismounted, and were standing there, waiting for me to show myself again. My gun being loaded again, I took a quick shot at one of the men. I missed and hit his horse. The horse let out a hysterical neigh before falling to the ground.
I did not hear bullets after my shot. I did not hear anything in fact, except for my own breathing and the horses plodding their hooves on the dirt. I suddenly realized that they were trying to flank me, and that they were probably sneaking up to the back door at that very moment. With no enough time to reload, I was not in a very good position. But what I did next was very cunning, if somewhat painful.
I looked to the left side of the cabin. There was another window of the same size as the one in front. Seeing no men through the window I decided to take a leap of faith. Literally. I ran towards the window with all the speed I could muster and jumped through it headfirst. As I said before about it being painful, the reason for that was because I had nothing to protect my head from the glass, and so after I had several cuts and scrapes on my face and scalp.
Anyway, they had obviously heard the window shatter, and they all rushed to my position. What they had not counted on was me going back through the window and sneaking out the front door. For the second part of my plan, I found the horse I believed to be the most fit, and mounted him. I then rode off at full speed. Only then did I forget that I had left my rifle in the house and my only weapon was a very small blade used for whittling. Knowing that fighting was now not an option, I raced on ever harder then before. The soldiers had heard me and were now getting on their horses and mounting a chase against me. Fortunately for me, one had to stay behind because there was no horse for him to ride. A grim smile crossed my face, knowing this was so because I had shot his horse.
My father and I were Union spies. We had gone behind enemy lines and retrieved information about confederate war plans. Coincidentally, on that very day we were planning on riding back to the capital to give our information to President Lincoln. Luckily, I knew all the information my father did, and even with his death I still planned on riding to the capital to deliver it.
I had not in my plan however anticipated that the confederates were such excellent riders. I could see they were gaining on me, and catching me would only be a matter of about half and hour. Thinking of an alteration to my plan, I remembered the cotton plantation only about half a mile away from my location.
I changed course for the plantation and rode on ever harder. After what seemed an eternity (but was actually only about ten minutes) of hard riding, the cotton fields finally came into view. I breathed a sigh of relief, but realized that I still wasn�t out of trouble yet.
Upon reaching the fields I dismounted and left the horse behind. I crawled forward quickly into the dense forest of cotton, the scratchy plant scraping my uncovered skin. I was about a quarter of a mile into the cotton before the soldiers appeared. Realizing their arrival, I stopped dead, being extremely cautious not to move. Even my breathing slowed to a tiny whisper of air filling and expelling from my lungs. The soldiers began to move forward into the cotton, making certain that they covered every inch. I tensed, praying to God that this would not be my final day on Earth.
But suddenly a small black boy appeared next to me as if out of nowhere, for he had made no sound moving through the field. I began to reach for my knife but he motioned to me that he meant me no harm. He then beckoned me to follow him. Seeing no other option, I did. I soon discovered how he made no noise moving through the cotton. He moved so slowly that the leaves brushed aside him without revealing him. Quickly, I followed suit.
There was a small forest near the edge of the plantation. Seeing as we were far enough away from the soldiers, the boy finally talked. �To escape,� he whispered. �We must get to that forest.� Quickly enough I understood. He put three fingers up and slowly let them drop. Three, two, one! We jumped up from our hidden position, and started sprinting for the edge of the forest. I saw the soldiers turn in surprise, and one even fired off a shot, but it just embedded itself into a tree in front of me.
We reached the edge of the forest but we kept running. I followed the boy for what seemed like hours, not ever looking back. Suddenly we broke out of the forest onto a desert. Totally disoriented, the boy and I sat down to rest.
�What�s your name?� I asked him. I couldn�t believe I hadn�t even asked him that before.
�Sam Fisher,� He responded. �What are you doing here.�
�I can�t tell you that, but I can tell you that I�m trying to win the war to free people like you.� I answered cautiously. For a black slave boy, he was asking very strange questions. I thought of a scheme right then and there, and with this black seeming fairly intelligent, he might just take me up on my deal. �If you come with me and help me to reach the capital, I�ll have you freed.�
�Really?� He said with a light in his eyes, and I knew I had him hooked.
�Done,� He reached out his hand and we shook on it. �Well if you wanna� get there before next year, we better get going.�
He got up and I followed. We began walking forward into the desert. After no more than half a mile of walking through the dry plain, we were surrounded by eight men on horseback, wearing no identifying clothing.


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December 2003

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