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This is a letter I wrote for a school project to a make-believe relative. It takes place just before the Revolutionary War. But what I love is that my teacher shared this letter, and this letter alone, to every single one of her classes that day. And she won't hand it back to me, she just refuses to. I hope you love it just as much as she did.


Submitted:Dec 22, 2011    Reads: 27    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


517 Barberry Lane

Boston, MA.

December 25, 1773

Dear Joanna Cecily,

As fluff falls from the sky and coats these charcoaled grasses I want to believe that it's just another ordinary holiday, but as the Lobsters march amongst our streets with their muskets, firmly in hand, I'm forced into this fear. A certain fear one does not enjoy presiding in, but the one in which one trembles at the taste of. Just whom do they believe they are? As Americans we reside in these lands and why they dare to invade our region is simply unknown to me! We did no such thing to them! So I beg now why they must be ever so rude!

I do not wish to worsen your mood Joanna, but I feel the need to tell you so that you may know the truth. Why! This morning British Soldiers came to me and told the kids and me to give up our beds for them to sleep in. It's Christmas! Don't they have hearts? We're being forced to scrub their filthy red coats and prep all their meals when instead, we should be singing Jolly 'O St. Nicholas and clinking mugs of hot coco! Why anyone in the right mind would favor these excuses of men I will never understand!

I'm not the only one who is ranting about it either. A well-mannered fellow by the name of Samuel Adams shared posters of the Boston Massacre, and girl, let me tell you! Everyone is now rebelling against the British, it's like a fashion trend and it's spreading quicker than small pox ever did! *When everyone in the bloody colony is doing it, they must have a pretty good reason, so you may as well join in! Samuel showed us a picture and those blood-thirsty Red Coats were firing away at innocent bystanders! Don't you remember Crispus Attucks, the dockworker who took quite a fancy to you? Well, I hate to tell you this dear, but he's now another bag of bones in Britain's filthy collection.

But don't sigh just yet because it certainly didn't end there! Britain made this tax on tea that I like to call the Tea Act and it was incredibly high. We soon couldn't afford our tea, but Adams and the Sons of Liberty decided to help us. The gentlemen dressed as Mohawks and they certainly looked quite silly, especially considering how pale their skin was, but they just smiled as they dumped all the tea from the ship into the ocean. A waste some may say, but I think it was a way to get our message across. Now we're just waiting for the news to get to King George III. I just wish it would happen sooner. Well, the Lobster wailed for his brunch; I've snuck a pinch of jalapeƱo into the batter... I don't think he'll be coming around here any more.

Sincerely,

Alanah H**d

P.S. I hope to see you again and when I do (if I do), I would most enjoy another batch of your maple cookies.





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