A Royal Rebellion

Chapter one

October 21rst, 1776.

My Dearest Rose,

The colonies are a mess. I usually don't start letters like this, as you know I view them as improper, but it is all I can say to explain the treachery that rages across the sea. I wish with all my might you were with me in Virginia, but I am unable to board a ship to collect you for fear of being discovered by British officers and being imprisoned, or worse hung.

I cannot believe that our precious King has decided to turn on us like this, and though I am taking a risk on proclaiming my  annoyance, I have to imply that we are  in dire need of guns and supplies in the colonies across the sea.

I hope you are well Rose, and I apologize dearly that this letter wasn't delightful to read, but I know you will swallow it toughly and hang your head high with that determination  you have. Stay aware my friend, and I beg you to please take the precaution of burning this message once you are done with it so neither you or I end up in the clutches of treason.

-Josie.

I finished the last sentence and threw the letter into the crackling sparks of the fireplace, watching as it curled and erupted into flames. Nearby an owl hooted and terrified mice scuttled deeper into the cracks of our house, and with a sigh I pulled off my gloves and sat gingerly on my bed, pondering about Josie. 

My childhood friend and I had both grown up in Virginia, among the stalks of corn and fields of wheat where we played hide and seek and the creak where we'd catch minnows and splash about until our mothers scolded us and told us to come back and dry off. But when the Revolution started, my parents fled the colonies to find safety in England, deciding that it was better to be on the stronger, safer side of the war. We left everything; friends, family, and most of all our patriotism.

I wasn't even supposed to be writing to Josie. The moment we arrived at England our parents gave Joseph and I a long talk on how our life in Virginia was over and how we couldn't have any contact with anyone from there. At first I obeyed, but even the thought of never hearing from my friends again, from never laughing at their words, (even if it was only in the form of paper) from never even having a taste of Virginia, broke my heart.

I remember being so anrgy about  how they could throw away the life we built for so long and the friends and memories we made. I remember reeling with frustration and feeling so extremely rebellious that I disobeyed them and sent my first letter to Josie, who wrote back within a week.

I let my eyes close, allowing the night breeze chill the headache that was forming in my head. Swallowing, I let myself get lost in my feelings once again.

At first I was devastated with living in England; I missed the colonies so bad it was like a stab in my heart every time I thought of them. I remember feeling like I didn't fit in among the the picturesque towns and the endless lustful women with their distinct accents.

But after some time passed I grew used to my new home, even made some new friends from the market and from some of the sewing groups Mother dragged me along too. I then began to convince myself that I didn't need Josie and my old friends, that this was our new life and I was loyal to the king, like what my parents were doing. I stopped writing back too Josie, let my Virginian accent become a British one, cut myself off from my old home.

And then the war struck.

Dead bodies in the streets, hushed secrets, begging for food, rebellions and curfews. It was at that time that I fully accepted the stab of longing everytime someone mentioned the colonies. No matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't be fully British. I was a colonial at heart.