This is a story about a solider who has barely escaped the harsh grip and wrath of the British Army and now hides away in the woods as battle is hear around him and death is searching for him
(serious maybe emotional story)
Deep within the snowy woods I reside as I hear battle and commotion right outside is this a sign or a realization that death is searching for me and wears red and supports the crown
January 12 1778, I don't know how much longer I can hide out here.. I lost count of the hours that I've been staring out the panes towards the flat meadow, once covered by the glistening snow and flakes in the midst of winter and the bittersweet smell of pine. However when war and rage engulfed us the snow ceased to fall and was painted red. And the sweet smell replaced with a devilish odor of gunpowder and fire
General Charles, you may want to take a look at what I've stumbled upon
if this cabin has been abandoned then what's the glow in the window??
January 19 1778, never have I had to bring death too another man on a silver platter but I had no choice he hurt my 'brother'. Imagine yourself standing on the front line of a revolution where men once united are battling to the death and willing to accept seeing others they love/appreciate pay the gruesome price for war and rage. It reminds me of a broken family portrait. I've managed to stop the bleeding from the man's leg he is still unconscious but I'd be crazy and naive to believe that things can only get better from here. The revolution has begun