Post by twilight on Jan 5, 2018 18:33:40 GMT -5
I was 11 years old in 1867. My name was John. I was born to Julia and Lewis Gulby. We lived in New York. My mother was a school teacher and my father was a blacksmith. The civil war had ended less than 2 years ago. The country felt old, yet with new horizons just beyond our reach. And the war had made everyone feel a hundred years old. It had also left a large amount of displaced children. Some were war orphans. Some were seperated from their families in the turmoil. Some belonged to prisoners of war. Whatever the case there were many children without parents, and it wasnt right.
My mother joined a committee of educators who made it their duty to educate the children and the forgotten. Education was the key and most believed that if educated, these children would be able to get a good job and support themselves and not be a burden on the country.
And while we had been residents of the Union, most of those children were from the South. And though we had not known it, there were several older children who had grudges, how could they not? Their side of their country had been taken, their way of life dismantled and their mothers defiled and fathers killed or forgotten. Yeah I would hold a grudge too if I were them.
And one Autumn day my mother and other teachers were knocked out and tied together. The school had been set afire by 5 students, 4 males and 1 female, all over the age of 13 and under the age of 17. They were young, but their hate went deep. And this I could relate to in my different lives. Hate lived on long after our bodies did not.
My father was in Pittsburgh that month, he could not have done much.
That afternoon I was one of the few who was still on the premises when the fire started. And I tried my best to save my mother and the other teachers but by the time I found them it was too late, the fire had engulfed them.
I felt hate as well. Deep within me. I wanted nothing more than revenge. And I would have it, yes I would. And I am not happy of what happened next. But I found those students in the back of the school looking on. And I knew it had been there, those looks in their eyes, almost screaming, “We did it and so what?!!” They didnt see me come behind them with a shovel. I struck at each of them knocking all but one unconcious, the youngest she cried as I had broken her leg with the shovel I had been holding. I dragged each of them back into the school and I sat there with the fire growing around us, I could hear people screaming for anyone inside to get out, but they were too late, no one left alive in this school was getting out. I made damn sure of it that day. And when it was over I was back in Jeville. I should of let it go, I should of mourned my mother and lived on. Instead I chose to give me heartache to my father and instead of mourning with him I let him mourn alone.
Why do I say this now? I dont know. Heartache and grief are strong emotions. Its something that Reno and I have in common. We have both hurt and lost people, and instead of being better people it only makes us hate even more. Because there were people in our live we should have looked for. And they were around, they were still busy playing the blame game. And they are idiots.
Well Reno you are back, and you have been lucky so far. I cant say I think too much of you, but you have been there for Harold and I think he has been there for you. And if nothing else that commonality unites us in some way. We lose so many people that we band together and fend off any wolves who may come to the door.
Am I right?
Fade to light
My mother joined a committee of educators who made it their duty to educate the children and the forgotten. Education was the key and most believed that if educated, these children would be able to get a good job and support themselves and not be a burden on the country.
And while we had been residents of the Union, most of those children were from the South. And though we had not known it, there were several older children who had grudges, how could they not? Their side of their country had been taken, their way of life dismantled and their mothers defiled and fathers killed or forgotten. Yeah I would hold a grudge too if I were them.
And one Autumn day my mother and other teachers were knocked out and tied together. The school had been set afire by 5 students, 4 males and 1 female, all over the age of 13 and under the age of 17. They were young, but their hate went deep. And this I could relate to in my different lives. Hate lived on long after our bodies did not.
My father was in Pittsburgh that month, he could not have done much.
That afternoon I was one of the few who was still on the premises when the fire started. And I tried my best to save my mother and the other teachers but by the time I found them it was too late, the fire had engulfed them.
I felt hate as well. Deep within me. I wanted nothing more than revenge. And I would have it, yes I would. And I am not happy of what happened next. But I found those students in the back of the school looking on. And I knew it had been there, those looks in their eyes, almost screaming, “We did it and so what?!!” They didnt see me come behind them with a shovel. I struck at each of them knocking all but one unconcious, the youngest she cried as I had broken her leg with the shovel I had been holding. I dragged each of them back into the school and I sat there with the fire growing around us, I could hear people screaming for anyone inside to get out, but they were too late, no one left alive in this school was getting out. I made damn sure of it that day. And when it was over I was back in Jeville. I should of let it go, I should of mourned my mother and lived on. Instead I chose to give me heartache to my father and instead of mourning with him I let him mourn alone.
Why do I say this now? I dont know. Heartache and grief are strong emotions. Its something that Reno and I have in common. We have both hurt and lost people, and instead of being better people it only makes us hate even more. Because there were people in our live we should have looked for. And they were around, they were still busy playing the blame game. And they are idiots.
Well Reno you are back, and you have been lucky so far. I cant say I think too much of you, but you have been there for Harold and I think he has been there for you. And if nothing else that commonality unites us in some way. We lose so many people that we band together and fend off any wolves who may come to the door.
Am I right?
Fade to light
