Weird Short Stories

The Diary of Rosanna Green 🌟

Info:

Daughter- Rosanna Green, 16

Father- Duston Green, 34

This takes place during the Revolutionary War between America and Great Britain during the Battle of Lexington and Concord, a real battle, but these characters are all fictional. Also, I have not reviewed them since I wrote them so sorry if there are mistakes, I just don't feel like going back and reading them. Also, while most of this follows what actually happened, there is some historical inaccuracy, as my friend Countrygirl110901 has pointed out to me.

April 18, 1775

Dear Diary,

I feel so confused! I don't know what I should do! My father is going off to fight the redcoats, but he is my only family left! When will I see him again? What if something happens, and we get separated and never see each other again? What if he dies? How long will he be gone? Who will protect me while he's gone? There are so many uncertainties! I never thought something like this would happen!

Ok, I have calmed down a little now. Let me start from the beginning. Being as this is my first ever diary entry, my name is Rosanna Green. My father, Duston Green, and I were recently awoken to the sound of yelling and hoofbeats on the road, muffled by the dirt. My mind was still muddled with sleep, so I clumsily made my way outside to see what was happening. My father was already outside, and he looked wide awake, which was odd because he usually took a long time to fully wake up. Knowing something was wrong with this, I became more alert, and listened to what was being yelled. What I heard petrified me. Down the road was a man on a horse, galloping as fast he could. He was incessantly yelling, "The British are coming! The British are coming!" Suddenly he flew past us, and the wind from his passing chilled me to the bones. I looked up at my father, who was just standing there watching the man on the horse gallop away. We stood there a little longer, and then, unable to suppress the question, I asked, "Father, what are we going to do?" My father glanced down at me, then back the way the man had disappeared. The only evidence he had been this way was the dust settling back down on the road. "I must go to Concord and join the other minute men. Go saddle Liz," He ordered me, and headed back inside. I went around back to our small barn and saddled Liz as quickly as I could. It took me longer though, because my hands were shaking, and my still sleepy mind was trying to understand what was happening. One minute we were both sound asleep in our beds, the next we are scuttling about like ants. As I was tightening the saddle to make sure it was secure, my father came into the barn, not closing the barn doors so he could ride away quickly. He had a canteen with water he had obviously filled from the creek, and he had a small bag slung over his shoulder. He also had a musket in his hand. Without a word or glance at me, he hurriedly walked over and climbed up onto Liz. I'll admit that by this point I was crying and begging my father to stay. He looked down at me, and I was surprised to see tears trickling down his face. His next words, however, were spoken in a tone that brooked no argument. "I have to go Liz. For you, for your Ma, and for our country." He then quickly wiped away his tears and rode away on Liz. I'm not sure how long I stood there, but when I left it was still dark. Not knowing what else I should do, I went up to my room to write this.

Sincerely,

Rosanna Green

April 19, 1775

Dear Diary,

After writing my last entry, I sat in my room crying and perplexed as to what to do next. Then, as I heard other people on horses riding to Concord like my father I began to think. Ma died 10 years ago when I was 6, and ever since my father has raised me as he would a son, for he doesn't know how to do things like sewing, and all the other stuff women usually do. He would sometimes take me hunting, and those hunting trips had taught me a lot of things, but there was one very important one. Stay together. The wilderness is not a place someone wants to be alone, so you should always have at least one other person you stay with. And these times were like the wilderness, unpredictable and very deadly. Plus, if something happened to my father, I would have no family left. So I gathered everything I thought I might need. I filled another canteen in the creek, and took the loaf of bread we had made recently. I also gathered by diary and a quill and some ink. Surprisingly writing down what was happening soothed me. I quickly ate some food, then wrapped up the bread, diary, quill, ink, and canteen in a blanket, since we didn't have another bag. As I was about to walk out the door I grabbed a hat and put it on my head, tucking my hair in it. My fiery red hair was very noticeable, and the hat would help hide it. I then went out to the road and began walking towards Concord, towards the fight to come. To my father. After an hour of traveling by foot, when the sun was starting to peek above the horizon, a man on a horse came up alongside me and he asked me if I needed a ride. I replied yes with a weary smile, and then climbed up onto the horse with him. We then continued riding to Concord. I held on tightly to the man as we rode so I wouldn't fall off. When we reached Lexington I saw several colonists with guns outside, either sitting or standing, and many talking to each other. The man I was riding with told this was as far as he was going and went to lead his horse to a stable. I got off and scanned the crowd of men. I didn't see my father, but I might have missed him. I walked over to the group of men, and started asking around. One man said he think he saw my father ride on towards Concord, and then one of the men he was talking to before I interrupted agreed. I asked a few other men to make sure the information was accurate, and the people I asked either didn't know, or also agreed he went on towards Concord. I decided to trust the information and went on towards Concord. Slightly before noon I spotted a creek and decided to take a break. I was exhausted and needed a rest. I drank from the creek, then dumped out the water from my canteen and refilled it. The water always tasted funny after you left it in there a while, so I had learned to fill it with fresh water whenever possible. After I took a drink I wrote this so my aching legs could have a break.