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Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death.

May 11th, 1773.

The fact that the government that did nothing to help my survival or my growth takes my money is ridiculous. To be perfectly honest, I shouldn't be part of them. I get it, their treasury is empty. But the kings dress like kings and still live in a bulky castle, what do we have to do with them? They don't deserve my money. They do not know how hard I worked for it, how difficult for me to set up a farm, I went through all the hard moments in life, and now what? Robbery? Sorry, I was too caught up in emotions. I should back up. With the bright light of the sun, my eyelids slowly open, letting off few blinks before realizing that I have woken up. As I twist and turn in the bed, I think of things I have gone through as a child, growing up as a poor boy in a poor family was indeed tough, I felt like this was the rest in life that was well deserved. Outside I see my farm, a green field of hope that grew on a harsh heart. The newspaper was right in front of the front gate, and I stumbled and tumbled over there, collecting the newspaper for some news around the world, hopefully affecting me in a positive way.

Figure 1 The tax on tea was around 3 pence per pound to 4 shillings per pound. This is equivalent to 24 cents to 10 dollars in USD today.

As I drag myself back into the house, the biggest headline grabs hold of my attention, it was right

below the title of Virginia Times. Taxes of Tea grows, Buyers Beware. This infuriated me because it was only last year that the Stamp Act was passed by the stupid monkeys in the English Parliament. And I have only recovered from the damage just weeks ago. Because of this, I was fully awake and alarmed. While I run back, I was terrified and curious to see what they have written. Up to This wasn't the first time the

British took money straight out of my pockets, this time, we need a movement to stop these illogical taxations. For my family's prosperity, and the rights of this nation. They are mad. It's not us that deprived them of gold, but why do we have to pay for it? At first, I thought this was some kind of sick joke, and dressed up to go out to the marketplace. There must be someone that I can discuss this with. At the marketplace in the bright noon, the marketplace clearly wasn't enjoying the sunlight. The tea vendor was there, but the depression seeping out of the vendor was enormous, it was like it was contagious. The sound of silence was immense, it dominated any other mood that could be felt in the bright afternoon. It was severe. It was almost like the silence that we could all drown in. I made an attempt to discuss this action with the tea vendor, the one that should be mad about this the most. His name was James. James was always bright and powerful in his speech, greetings were loud almost any day of the year. Knowing him for 10 years, this was definitely a warning sign. "James," I speak. He stays stationary, as the sadness seeps through the skin of mine. "James," I speak a little louder, as he stares at the sky, with an open mouth. "James!" I finally shout, with the anger built up inside. He jolts awake as if he had been sleeping with his eyes open. "Hey," He says, emotions long went from the voice,

From the observation I have been gathering, I decided that it is safer for me to just leave him alone. Most of the conversations end with short-lived fragments, as they didn't want to talk about it. There were a couple of posters I saw wandering around the market and decided to pick one up. The poster lists the place to meet, and the main Idea boldly written at the very top of the page. Join Us! Our nation needs us! It says to meet in the Virginia Times headquarters, the first thing that came to my mind was that this will be a perfect place for us to rebel against the Parliament of England. Those monkeys won't understand what we mean until we rise up against them. There is no other choice. Friends, family, they are all going to die if I don't step up. This is a rightful movement. 3 A. M, the poster said, the meeting was at 3. From the marketplace, I went straight to the headquarters of Virginia times. Perhaps there I would find more answers than questions.

As I step in with caution, all the hardship that I went through comes to my mind. Lack of money, food, sanitation, I can't let my children go through the same thing, nor my friends. We need to change this nation once and for all, proclaiming liberty so that no other people will be affected by this sad incident. The door opens with power, and the room awaited me with the powerful text written up on the wall: Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death. This was it. Truly a starting point of what could be the start of an independent country.

The plans were set. December 16th of 1773, we were sneaking up on the tea trade ships and dumping the tea into the water. Time to make them taste their own medicine, the British will know our presence, and we will only grow in size.

December 16th, 1773

In the cold wind of December, we were protesting, it was our silent war until the real war happens. They need to notice our pain. If they don't, it means war. For the past 48 hours, I have been spending it in the carriage, making the trip to Boston. The Few days before today, I received coal, with a note saying that I should bring this to the protesting area. The journey started 2 days ago, sleeping in inns and going on the carriage over and over again, I could still remember the day I left off. I get on the carriage with some essentials. After eating lunch near Hartford, I get on the one last ferry to finish the journey of protest that started 2 days ago. After I get to the port, the shining light welcomes me, as if to say that this was the right choice to make. A group of 115 men awaits my arrival. It seems like they all live nearby. "Is everyone here?" A person quietly announces, And the headcount commenced. Us as a group were waiting and disguised as a merchant and hid near the port. We saw the tea boat come in a short while later. 2 people every 10 meters so that this doesn't seem so obvious. My partner was named Christopher. He was skinny, almost too skinny. His blue eyes that I'm sure once was a blue lake had turned into a motionless and foggy marble. This is the person that has lost everything. I think to myself and start a conversation while waiting for the signal to go on the boat. "Christopher, was it? Your name?" "Yes," he replies with a monotone voice, "Where do you live?" I ask him, "Virginia." "Really? Virginia where?" "Richmond." "Coincidence? I also live there!" "Oh, wow." He replies, without any emotions, "What happened to you?" "We all know what happened. Keep it quiet. We're on a mission." He whispered in a determined voice, but somewhere in there, I could sense the trembling in his voice. "Something did happen. Tell it to me, you can't just handle everything yourself." "You don't know me. You know nothing." As his voice grew louder and louder, I could clearly sense the trembling in the voice. "What does your fat little body know about this act? You still eat, you still sleep, you don't know the seriousness of this event! No wonder why you are being so cumbersome in the first mission!" He was right. I thought I was the only negatively affected person in here. Everyone here was affected, and they were being affected in much more negative ways than I did. "Sorry," I whisper. With regret in my speech.

Figure 2 340 Boxes of tea were dumped in the Boston Harbor. It was estimated that it caused about 92000 dollars of damage.

A fire was set on a nearby trading post. It was the signal. Once everyone left to investigate the scene, we quickly went aboard the deck and started carrying out the boxes of tea. I rubbed the charcoal and dumped the tea into the water. There were only 116 of us, but we have dumped 340 chests of tea, the one of many things that withered our cash. We were tired of their tax. This, was the start of a great movement.

September 3rd, 1789 A few months ago, I got a mail from Christopher, saying how sorry he was to me when he shouted at me at 1773. It was a heartfelt letter, and I decided to go and visit him regularly. Over time, we communicated and grew to be good friends, helping each other's needs and lacking.

Figure 3The Treaty of Paris listed that the British will retreat and give back all the land that the British have previously owned.

It has been silent for years now, up until last year I could hear artillery and gunshots from distances away, but now, nothing. Just silence remains, surely there is nothing wrong with our army or our nation, right? What I have gathered from people were that there was a negotiation. A negotiation of what is unknown though, as it is a secret among the people. But these worries were gone, as I picked up the morning newspaper, the Virginia Times. The headline celebrated our liberty and announced to us, that we, were a free country, liberated from the need of other countries jamming us to the way of glory. The thought

comes to my mind that the prosperity of my children is now guaranteed as they are liberated and free of any disturbance. As I walk out to the marketplace, I see the aurora of happiness and the dancing of men, women and even children, celebrating the liberation of this country. First thing I do is I dress up and go to Christopher's house, and we meet mid-way, we both had thought the same thing. The British have surrendered their land and we will be free of the previous taxation. He has regenerated a lot of his soul, it seems like, as he has restored the blue lake that now resides in his eyes. No day would be jolly than this, today is the day that we have won the battle men, and with this newly acquired wealth, in 10 years' time, I could perhaps buy a new farm, to continue supporting our family line, for the future, for the growth of this land.

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death  

A historical fiction on the American revolution

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death  

A historical fiction on the American revolution