This essay has no title. It was written and entered into a DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) Writing Contest that my 8th grade Social Studies teacher made all of her classes enter. No, it didn't win, but then…I suppose I can see why! It's not all that great, but I like it well enough. It could one day be expanded, perhaps, and definitely revised. There were certain standards that I had to meet and a limited number of words that I could have. This is the final product. Originally, it was longer, but I ended up cutting about 200ish words. So…here goes!

DAR Essay

I, Sandra B. Glass, sat next to my mother in that boring courtroom in Britain doing nothing but concentrating on how tall and ugly the men and women were. While the men wore powdered wigs made of horses' hair, the women had snobby looks upon their faces that completely contradicted their attire. The brilliantly red coats were numerous.

While walking home, I wished for my blue dress and long, silky, sandy-golden hair to be back. Mama had dressed me as a boy as well as cut my hair short because of this horrid war. We lived in constant fear of being found and killed. Mama is also still upset about my sister, who did not live to see her first Christmas, and Father, who left and betrayed us. Mama said she knows naught of where he is and hopes he knows naught of where we are.

During the next few weeks, we moved three times. Suddenly I heard a faint, yet persistent knock on our door. As I swiftly ran, I avoided the mess of obstacles. I halted before my destination was in view, for Mama had told me never to let myself be seen. Once she had looked out the window, she instructed me to sit in my closet with all doors shut, and close my ears tightly while covered in blankets. I fell asleep with the only thought in my mind being the creaking sound of the door as it opened, replaying in my head.

When I awoke, I was curious as to why Mama had not come to get me once the stranger had left. Perhaps I had already fallen asleep and she wished not to disturb me. I entered the room only to see her sprawled across the floor covered in blood. I bit back a scream. Tears, hot and moist, raced down my face. Dripping furiously, they traced my path across the floor. I was on my knees at her side instantaneously. She was still breathing and conscious. She looked at me with the most awful expression of sheer shock and joy. It took more than all of her strength to hug me. I tentatively rested her head upon my lap and stroked her auburn hair. She spoke, "Sandra, please…take these…to America. I know you're only five, yet I've taught you many survival skills. Be sure to wear your uniform. These papers are sealed cases. Without your uniform you will be convicted as a spy. Trust no one!" she coughed more, and I could barley stand it. "I need you to do this. This is the most important thing you shall ever do in your life." I choked out the words, "Yes Mama. I … I will." She cried with me for awhile, then said, "I love you." As she did so, she dropped a silver necklace with a cross on it and an American flag shirt pin into my hands. I said I loved her too, "Mama, will I ever see you again? Will you…live?" She had no answer. Her eyes were now closed. I assumed her heart had stopped as well. I sat in dismay while crying.

The following morning I was resolute. I snatched my pack, threw out the blanket that I carried everywhere, and jammed in the papers, Mama's gifts, food, and a change of clothing. I went outside to saddle Mama's horse. Before I did so, I took Mama's hidden protection, a knife, from her left shoe and put it in mine.

I passed forest after forest. Their rapturously, radiant colored leaves fell rapidly. I rode through swamp, marsh, forest, and, river, rain, sleet, blazing heat, or snow, for a year. Though, I never rode across an open plain, for fear of being sighted. I did not know the country well. Fortunately, before Father left, he taught me a great deal about wildlife and survival. Unfortunately, that means that if he is tracking me… he knows my every word.

I fish and hunt for food. I trust no one. I bivouac in caves. I wash my clothing in streams. I repeatedly cut my hair. I am traveling westward, to the sea. I am now six.

I am on a mission I may never complete, and I am alone.

I looked at the ocean, and set my horse free. With my pack hanging from my wrist, I somehow managed to board a ship headed for America. It took eighteen months to reach America, and I am now eight. Once on land I run as fast as I can. Soon, I come upon a curious building. Inside I hear many men saying in unison, "George Washington." Mama had told me stories of him and how he was a hero. So, I pounded on the door with all of my weak strength left. I pounded and yelled until I passed out.

When next I opened my eyes, I looked about in horror. The man who stepped over had a gentle face, and not unkindly, asked, "Who are you and why are you in a British coat?" I calmly explained my situation and as proof, showed him the papers. He introduced himself as George Washington as well as untied me. He told me that I had interrupted the Second Continental Congress while they were voting for the leader of the newly established Continental Army. Before long, I was at Bunker Hill, helping him.

The men calmly waited until the British were in a reasonable range, to fire. Suddenly and surprisingly, they fired, reloaded, and waited to repeat. In confusion many British tumbled downhill. I saw a nurse roaming around. I know her, I thought.

Suddenly, in disbelief and joy, too, I ran to her screaming while tears ran down my face, "Mama!" The woman spun around to pick me up and swing me around in her arms.

"Sandra! I thought you were dead." From that point on, all we ever did, we did together. I shall never forget my life. "Victory! Victory for America!"