I walked out of my two story house onto the soft damp grass, it was the beginning of August, a few days before my eighteenth birthday. I squinted my Green eyes against the harsh, yellow glare of the sun. I breathed deep, and ran as fast as my long, tan legs, and millions of petticoats, would allow. I stopped at the pond in our back yard, and sighed as I settled down with my book of poetry. I brushed a few strands of fiery red hair out of my face, and listened to the gunshots.
I almost let a tear down, my brothers, Paul, only eighteen, Peter, Paul’s twin, and George, twenty-three, married with three kids. All fighting against one another. George had move from the sweet state of South Carolina, at twenty, with his new wife, Lilly, to make himself a good, hard working man of the factories, and was fighting along with the North. But my twin brothers, both engaged, were fighting for the good old Confederate states of America, or, CSA as my friends and had lovingly nicknamed it. While I sat reminiscing about old times, my favorite slave, the one I had once tried to free, without her help, ran out,
“Rose!” she gasped with relief.
“why, Auntie G! you hadn’t got the idea that I was in danger, do you?” I blinked innocently, Auntie G’s eye’s, black and depthless, hardened, “Don’t use that twang on me sugar! You’s always getting’ yourselves in trouble! And thoses twins are much worse! You’s mother is frantic! You bess get your sorry tail into that house, incase the guns miss, and your pretty green eyes loose the light behind them’s!”
she then turned, not bothering to see if I was following, and walked with the long-legged pace only she had. I walked a bit more slowly towards the white house. A few boy’s from my school were running down the road, playing war with sharp sticks and sling shots. I sighed longingly, I wanted to join, to prove women were just as tough as men, but my family was of great importance, and young ladies just don’t do that! Auntie G must have heard my sigh, because she turned to me, softness in her lined face,
“Sugar, I know you want to have fun and play with the boys, but it’s just not possible!”
“I know, I know!” I snapped running into the house. It was rash, I admit, but I was tired of that speech, yes, I know my father was a general in the war, and I was proud, very, very proud, but, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. I have, of course, heard of the women’s rights movements, but I could never be allowed near the brave, wonderful women that were starting a revolution. My beautiful, but brainless, and gutless, sister Mary, can never understand my craving to be able to play like the boys, Only my best friend does. Anastasia, the brilliant brunette, with a hint of red, and Green eyes, the color of lush moss, was fun, energetic, and loud. She felt the same way, having grown up with all men, except her mother.
I ran into my room, and shut the door on Auntie G. I hated her, my mom, my sister, my dad, my brothers, I hated all of them, let them hate me to, I hate myself, why does it matter now anyways? It was all going to end soon, the war comes closer and closer everyday, and Sherman is making his way up, yet we refuse to leave, we have just written our obituaries, so why even care?
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