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Tim Fights Back By: Katelyn Dhuy

I came running home from milking the cow. I rushed into the tavern and stopped dead. Soldiers were poised to run a sword through father. “Tim, get Sam.” While the soldiers were turned toward me, father pushed them away and picked up an axe. I turned and ran. I ran all the way to where Sam was (in Betsy’s family tepi). Sam was asleep on a straw pallet inside. The gun was under Sam’s arm, partially hidden by his leather blanket. I knew Sam was a deep sleeper. I gently rolled the gun from under Sam’s arm. Sam muttered something and rolled over to face me. I held my breath. Sam didn’t wake up. I picked up the gun, stepped quietly outside the tepi, and ran. I had barley taken 5 steps when Sam came out and grabbed me. He must have heard my feet on the fresh snow. I turned toward Sam. His eyes were coals in the moonlight. The gun was loaded. I took a few steps back. “Tim, give me the gun.” “No, Sam! Father will die if I don’t give him the gun.”

Sweat began pouring over my hands. I held up the gun. “Don’t come near me, Sam!” My fingers became slippery, then slipped and pulled the trigger. The gun shot a single, shiny, black bullet. It hit Sam in the heart and kept on going. Sam’s eyes glazed over and he dropped dead instantly. “I’m a beetle headed fool!” I kneeled over and hugged Sam one last time. “Damnit!” I got up and began digging Sam a shallow grave. The cold earth scraped my hands raw. I lowered Sam into the grave and covered him up with dirt and snow. I headed home. I burst into the tavern, and shot any soldiers in sight. I nearly tripped over my cat, Apricot, when I sat down at a table. Apricot mewed and jumped to the top of the table. “Father, when I went to get the gun and Sam, Sam was sleeping. So I took the gun. Sam followed me and told me to give him back the gun. I said no. My fingers slipped. I….I shot Sam.” I didn’t turn to look at Father but I knew he was turning a bright red. I got up, took a sack , put clothing, bread, cheese, a bottle of milk, a pillow, a blanket, and my winter coat in it. I took apricot in my arms and left the tavern. I made sure the gun was slung over my back and never looked back. I started towards the general’s house. By the time I got there I was sure I was going to join the army. I was getting low on food and it was getting dark, so I knocked on the door. A voice like gravel on steel said “Come on in, but be quick.

I hate cold weather.” I hurried inside and shut the door tight. It was a tidy place. There was a round oak table in the center of the room. A man sat in a chair at the table. A cozy fire crackled merrily by a bed with a checkered quilt. A cabinet of food stood near the southern wall. A red rug lay between the bed and the table. The general appeared to have been eating his supper. I told him that I wanted to join the army. The general said it was fine with him. He gave me food and let me camp outside. I got up early. Apricot went home. “Goodbye kid! Go kill the beetle headed lobster backs!” The general hollered this after me when I took the gun and headed to where the army had decided to campout. I headed to one of the tents, the general’s note that let me join the army clutched in my hand. The tent was empty. I heard a gun shoot in the distance. More of the sounds followed. I took the brown Bess and rushed to the battle field. A bullet whizzed past

my ear. I jumped into the battle. Another bullet whizzed past me. I spotted a redcoat. “Down with you, bloody man!” I shot the gun and killed the man. Before I could rejoice, another bullet hit me in the head. I fell down. A warm darkness clouded the edges of my eyes. I gave into the darkness. Tim died right there from a bullet to his head.

Tim Fights Back  

A tragic story about Tim and the war.

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