That One Day in Atlanta
It was a beautiful day. Not too hot, not too cold, around 75 degrees, and it was perfect. I sat outside on the grass in front of my house, playing with my dolls and watching the bustling townspeople. My older brother Tom sat a few yards away, reading a book under the shade of our apple tree. I didn’t think the day could get any better, and I was right, it didn’t. It got worse.
Out of nowhere, the mail deliverer came running down the road, waving his arms around and yelling like a madman. This startled me, and surely everyone else was too, because George was the type of guy who was always cool, collected, and always looking for an opportunity to crack a joke. Something terrible was wrong. One of the store clerks, Mr. Tober, came out onto the road to where George was standing. Everyone’s attention was focused on them as Mr. Tober tried to calm George down enough to talk.
“What is it George?” asked Mr. Tober, “What has got you like this?”
George continued to babble on, no one being able to understand what he says.
“Deep breaths George, just take a few deep br-”
BAM! Mr. Tober slapped his hand across George’s face, and now had his hands on his shoulders, trying to shake him back into reality.
“Talk to me George!” yelled Mr. Tober.
“Th-they’re coming,” stuttered George.
“Who’s coming George?” asked Mr. Tober.
“Sh-Sh-Sherman, Sherman and h-his men,” George finished with a little croak, and then he began to sob some more. “Th-they’re coming t-to Atlanta! And th-they’ll be here soon!”
Mr. Tober’s eyes widened and he yelled, “Evacuate! Everyone! Go to the nearest city, and let them know what’s happening! Don’t take any belongings, they’ll just slow you down! Just take your families and go! NOW!”
Everyone started screaming and running like chickens with their head cut off. My parents ran out of the house, Tom grabbed my arm and we all ran in the direction of the crowd. There were little kids crying, adults crying, everyone crying.
I could hear the marching of the troops as we ran, or maybe it was my heart beating out of my chest and the blood pounding in my ears. Whatever it was, I wanted it to stop. I looked behind me, and my parents were nowhere to be found. I panicked and stopped in the middle of the running crowd. As I was whipping my head around looking for them I saw the city. My city. My beautiful city, my home was up in flames. I stood and watched in horror as everything was engulfed in the red flames. And then I ran. And everyone else ran harder too, because we knew what was coming. There was a loud BANG as the mine exploded and then I fell to the ground, my face in the dirt, my heart in my stomach. We all looked around, everyone too angry or hurt to cry. Our home, it was taken away. And we will not let it go. We can do nothing now, but in the future, the time will come for when the North will pay. I got up, started walking, and everyone else followed. And we all walked as one.
It was a beautiful day. Not too hot, not too cold, around 75 degrees, and it was perfect. I sat outside on the grass in front of my house, playing with my dolls and watching the bustling townspeople. My older brother Tom sat a few yards away, reading a book under the shade of our apple tree. I didn’t think the day could get any better, and I was right, it didn’t. It got worse.
Out of nowhere, the mail deliverer came running down the road, waving his arms around and yelling like a madman. This startled me, and surely everyone else was too, because George was the type of guy who was always cool, collected, and always looking for an opportunity to crack a joke. Something terrible was wrong. One of the store clerks, Mr. Tober, came out onto the road to where George was standing. Everyone’s attention was focused on them as Mr. Tober tried to calm George down enough to talk.
“What is it George?” asked Mr. Tober, “What has got you like this?”
George continued to babble on, no one being able to understand what he says.
“Deep breaths George, just take a few deep br-”
BAM! Mr. Tober slapped his hand across George’s face, and now had his hands on his shoulders, trying to shake him back into reality.
“Talk to me George!” yelled Mr. Tober.
“Th-they’re coming,” stuttered George.
“Who’s coming George?” asked Mr. Tober.
“Sh-Sh-Sherman, Sherman and h-his men,” George finished with a little croak, and then he began to sob some more. “Th-they’re coming t-to Atlanta! And th-they’ll be here soon!”
Mr. Tober’s eyes widened and he yelled, “Evacuate! Everyone! Go to the nearest city, and let them know what’s happening! Don’t take any belongings, they’ll just slow you down! Just take your families and go! NOW!”
Everyone started screaming and running like chickens with their head cut off. My parents ran out of the house, Tom grabbed my arm and we all ran in the direction of the crowd. There were little kids crying, adults crying, everyone crying.
I could hear the marching of the troops as we ran, or maybe it was my heart beating out of my chest and the blood pounding in my ears. Whatever it was, I wanted it to stop. I looked behind me, and my parents were nowhere to be found. I panicked and stopped in the middle of the running crowd. As I was whipping my head around looking for them I saw the city. My city. My beautiful city, my home was up in flames. I stood and watched in horror as everything was engulfed in the red flames. And then I ran. And everyone else ran harder too, because we knew what was coming. There was a loud BANG as the mine exploded and then I fell to the ground, my face in the dirt, my heart in my stomach. We all looked around, everyone too angry or hurt to cry. Our home, it was taken away. And we will not let it go. We can do nothing now, but in the future, the time will come for when the North will pay. I got up, started walking, and everyone else followed. And we all walked as one.