I wrote this a while back for my seventh grade language arts class. I improved a lot since I wrote this.

BANG! The redcoat instantly fell off his horse, his stricken chest gushing and erupting with blood. I sprinted over to the dead soldier and slid off his messenger bag. I took the bag, stuffed my Brown Bess rifle in it, slung it across my chest, and grabbed the horse. There was no time to dawdle. I have to get out of here as soon as possible before the British soldiers find where the gunshot came from. If they find me here, the soldiers will find out I'm the only survivor of a redcoat-ignited fire that killed every person in my town, including my parents and two older brothers. From Roxboro, North Carolina I need to run to Danville, Virginia where I can be safeā€¦ for now. I heard the redcoats have been moving North lately, trying to claim land as they dominate each and every town in the colonies. The stretch from here to Danville is about 14 miles long so I better get moving.

Outlines of at least a dozen armed men encroach the horizon, running towards me. Panicking, I mount myself on the horse and yell, "Giddyap!" at the top of my lungs over the voices of the screaming men. The horse blasts off, about to dive into the thick, lush safety of the woods until- BOOSH! I suddenly halt at a slanted angle I dive into, almost falling over. The horse shakily lets itself fall as I hurriedly get off the horse. Realizing what had just occurred, I broke out in a run, rapidly plunging into the woods away from the guns pointed at me, taking one last look at the horse's bloody gunshot leg and the redcoats' rankled, hateful faces. I navigate my way through trees, logs, bushes, and other obstacles, almost crying tears of joy as the echoes of the redcoats soften and become more distant. For a countless number of hours I walk north (according to a compass I found in the pocket of my skirt) until my legs burn, my back stiffen, and my entire body freezes in the chilling winter weather.

Until I am positive that no soldiers are anywhere nearby, I walk off track a bit and find a nice, flat area to encamp as the sun sets. The solitary area is surrounded with tree branches and a small fort of bushes, lessening my chances of being found by anyone. I take off the messenger bag and spill out its contents on the ground. The bag contained a pocketknife, a nickel, a badge, trail mix, a stamp, and a deck of playing cards alongside my rifle. I eat about half of the trail mix and then I begin gathering firewood. It's a menial job, but terribly important for me in the current state I'm in right now. Once I finished gathering wood, I took two rocks and attempted at creating sparks. After a tedious amount of time, I finally got a fire going.

I gather up all the leaves I could find with the limited amount of light and form them into a pile, entering my thoughts as I lay down. Why are the redcoats doing such terrible things to the colonists? What did my family and friends ever do to deserve being burned to ashes? Why does a girl like me have to worry about outrunning grown men with rifles? Most fourteen-year-old girls worry about what to wear to a party, or how to act properly when courted by someone, or even something as silly as what color ribbons to wear to church. As I slowly surrendered myself to a dreamless sleep, I imagined what my mother would say right this moment if the redcoats hadn't invaded Roxboro. Good night, Betty.

Waking up shivering from a bad night's rest, I got up, rounded all my things, and set out to hunt. About forty minutes later I found and shot a turkey. I plucked off the turkey's feathers, started a fire, and roasted it. I cut off a large chunk of meat with the pocketknife in my bag and ravenously ate it. I packed up the remaining food and put it in my bag. I started walking north towards Danville, hoping to find a pond along the way. About forty minutes into the walk, I spotted a tiny pond and drank the water, moistening my dry, cracked lips. For the rest of the entire day I did nothing but walk, stopping only to eat lunch and dinner. It was almost pitch black when I trailed up to the small town of Danville. As I drearily walked up town, I finally had found an inn to spend the night at the quiet town. I came in and a woman working at the front counter stopped me and asked why I was so rugged and filthy. In reply, I told her about the redcoats' invasion and my trip through the woods. The woman told me she was about to move to Philadelphia with her husband and her sister. She told me that she was a teacher who had always wanted a child but couldn't have any. She asked me if I wanted to stay with her. In return, I took her kind offer and stayed at the inn until the next morning, when the woman, whose name was Molly, officially passed on her inn to one of her cousins.

Epilogue

Ring ring ring! The school bell chimed. "Alright, class is over. Remember to review your notes on European geography. Betty, I want you to collect the hornbooks and erase the blackboard." Said Miss Hamilton, which was Molly's school alias. As my classmates trailed out of the classroom, I collected everyone's hornbook and set it on Molly's large desk. As I begun wiping the chalk off the blackboard, Molly joined in, clearing her beautiful cursive handwriting inquiring on the principles of gravity. Once we were finished cleaning the board, we stayed until almost six o'clock, getting ready for the next week. Then we left the schoolhouse and took a short walk to our nice, quiet house in the delicious spring weather. Molly's husband, Frederick, was napping upstairs and her sister, Abigail, was preparing dinner. It's been almost two months since Molly had officially adopted me. I really grew close to her and she is a kind woman who is great at her job as a teacher. The rest of the day went on with eating dinner, doing homework, and writing a letter to my friend Diana. After I had washed my face and changed into a nightgown, I climbed into bed as Molly walked to bid me goodnight. She blew out my room candle, walked out, and said one last thing before I dozed off into sleep. "Good night, Betty."