Friday, September 26, 2014

Captured! Part 1, by Kathryn

First off, I want to thank everyone for their many story ideas! It was extremely hard to pick one. I don't think any one time period would please everybody, so I finally just had to choose one. I think we will have a lot of fun with it, and I can't wait to begin! Don't be disappointed if it wasn't exactly what you wanted; we will do more stories!

Setting: Revolutionary War, the American Army
Main Character: Samantha Katherine Smyth

Disclaimer: All characters and battles are fictional. I didn't want to take the time to historically research this. 

So without further ado, let us begin. 

***

     "Oh, bother! Not again!" 
     With a grunt, I hurried towards the large tent in front of me. Its flickering walls stood out against the dark background of woods behind it. The night was starless and chilly, my every breath forming a cloud.
     "Hank," I began, pushing back the tent flap. But I stopped short when the heads of a dozen officers shot up from the table. 
     "Yes, Samantha, what is it?" one of them asked.
    "Sorry, I'll come back later, sir," I apologized, leaving the tent and allowing the men to return to their conference.
     The man was Captain Henry Braxton, or Hank as I called him. He had been a good friend of my now departed father, Edward Smyth. My father had served under him until a year prior, when he was killed by a British bullet. He made Captain Braxton promise to take care of me, which he was ever willing to do. The captain knew how close I had been to my darling father, so much so that I had followed him to the battlefield, my mother being deceased since I was a young child.
     Hank was truly more like a grandfather to me in age, but loved me like a daughter, and we grew ever so close. He had continually cared for me, making sure my every need was met, even if that meant less for him.
     I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. My name is Samantha Katherine Smyth. At the time of this story, I was 15 years old, living in the camp of the American Army. The soldiers there knew me as Sam, the fiery redhead who had a temper to match. In the camp, I was water girl, seamstress, cook and even nurse if need be. I would do most anything that needed to be done, though I was getting quite tired of fetching Hank's horse, who rather enjoyed straying from camp. 
    At last, after 20 minutes or so, the officers departed the tent and mounted their waiting horses. Off they galloped into the dark night, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.
    I entered the army tent once more, glad to find the captain by himself, smoking his pipe.
    "Ah, there you are, darling. I hope your matter wasn't of too much importance. I tried to hurry them along," he said, rising from his seat. I hugged him and began irritably,
    "It's that horse of yours. He's gone and deserted again."
    Hank laughed heartily, the gold buttons on his fine uniform tinkling.
    "Dear me, what shall we do with that thing? I'm afraid I have to go over these papers with Lieutenant Atchinson in a few minutes. Would you be so kind as to locate the animal?"
    I grunted.
    "I shall, but if he does it again, I will have him hung."
    Smiling, Hank shook his head and returned to the many papers strewn across the makeshift table.
    He was white-haired, with the exception of a small amount of grey on his sideburns. He had a long and thin face, one that had been quite dashing in his youth. When he smiled, wrinkles would appear around his blue eyes.
    While he had a soft and gentle side, the side that I saw most, Hank could still be the stern and ever intimidating Captain Braxton. His passion for freedom and liberty spread to his men like a wildfire. Even when a battle seemed lost, he would shout with all his might, "Onward to victory!", reviving their dimmed hopes and spirits.
    Hank planned to take me with him back to Philadelphia-his home-once the war was over. I think, though, that every day he worried that he might be killed- not for fear of dying; he would gladly do so for his country-but that I would be left without soul in the world.
    "Will you be able to have supper when I get back?" I asked the captain.
    "Yes, I believe so, darling. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long. I'll try to hurry with Lieutenant Atchinson, all right?"
    "And I'll hurry and find that stubborn animal," I sighed, leaving the tent.
    "Oh, and take a soldier with you," he called.
    I took a lantern, lit it, and headed for the far woods where the mischievous animal liked to roam. I knew the place well, for we had been camped here for quite some time. I don't need one of the men, I thought. They'll only be sore for me interrupting their card game.
    I wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, whistling and beckoning for the horse to come. The moon and stars had at last come out from behind the billowing clouds, aiding my plight in finding the lost animal.
    As I continued to shine my lantern about, a soft rustle sounded in the brush behind me. I whirled around, but no horse was there. Stealthily I walked forward and around a grove of thick bushes. My dim light suddenly fell upon two men crouched on the ground. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the brightly colored uniforms and the scowl etched on their faces. 
    Redcoats!
    Before I could muster a scream, a hand clapped over my mouth and I was forced to the damp earth.
 
***
    "You blundering fools! What am I to do with this child?" a voice howled. 
    "Sir, she was about to give us away! We had to take her." 
    I held my breath, not daring to open my eyes. Where am I?  
    "You had better be glad she didn't. Our entire attack would be ruined if the American camp knew we were here." 
    My heart dropped. I hadn't imagined the bright red coats and the foreign accents as I had hoped. No, they were real, horribly real. 
    "I suppose we'll have to keep her here, thanks to your brightness. Wake her." 
     I shuddered as I felt the hard tip of a boot prod into my side. My eyes opened, revealing a low-rank British officer staring down.
    He yanked me off the cold soil, myself a bit dizzy from the apparent blow I had received on the head earlier. The man pushed me a few paces forward until I stood directly in front of the British general whose voice had boomed throughout the tent.
    "State your name," came the order.
    "Samantha Smyth Braxton." My voice quivered.
    The face of the old general suddenly grew very surprised.
    "Braxton? You are of no relation to the Yankee pig Henry Braxton, are you?"
    I scrunched my face, a sign that my courage had suddenly appeared and had taken over.
    "Captain Braxton is no pig, I assure you. Legally I am of no relation, but in my heart he is my adopted father," I stated, blood boiling. The general laughed.
    "How humorous that the captain's daughter shall be on our side when he is killed. Take her to help the women cook," he sneered. "I'm sure she will bring little trouble. But just the same, keep a close eye on her. The American Army must have no knowledge of our residence here."
    With a tight grasp I was pulled out of the tent and into the dark British camp. You have a lot to learn about Sam Smyth, general, I thought, my eyes filling up with tears. I'll find a way to reach Hank and the men if it's the very last thing I do on this earth.

To be continued!

Kathryn

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

New Story Suggestions

Hey, everyone!

I would like to hear some suggestions regarding the next BOYH story! We haven't finished the current one, but I think it would be easier to getting rolling again if we start another one. Have a favorite time period or historical event? Suggest it in the comments and I will consider it! I might come up with a list and let the contributors vote, or, let all you guys vote, too! We'll see. ;)

Comment your suggestions!

Thanks!
Kathryn :)

Thursday, June 26, 2014

The Winner!

First off, thank you to everyone who entered! I enjoyed reading all the entries immensely and hope we can do this again soon!

*announcer voice* And now... For the winner... *drumroll*

AIZESS! Congrats, Aizess!

I picked her paragraph because I was immediately impressed with her writing style. And the fact that it was very short, yet it captured my attention right away and made me want to keep reading. Well done, Aizess!

Here is her entry:

By the time he arrived, he knew he was too late. He opened the ornately carved, cherry wood entrance door and heard nothing. Everything was silent. Too silent. Even the wind held its breath and refrained from rustling the few golden-red leaves left on the trees. He looked around with the air of a thief and suddenly tore through the house searching for his target: his wife. He made a thorough search through all the rooms, but to no avail. Yet, instead of being discouraged, his dark eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement. “I will find her––no matter the cost.”

Thanks again to everyone who entered! They all the entries were fantastic and I look forward to seeing some of that writing talent in another story! 

~Kathryn 

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Writing Contest

Kathryn here!

I apologize for the lack of writing here at BOYH. We're going to try to change that. But to get things rolling... *drumroll*... We are going to have a contest!

This contest will be between the contributors, not including myself, since I will be the judge. I may hold some contests where everyone (Yes, followers! That means you!) can enter soon.

Alright, here are the rules.

1. You must enter only a paragraph, not an entire story. I'm not going to make it a specific word count, because I know those are hard to do. So just try not to make it too long.

2. It may be about anything! A gruesome pirate who has kidnapped a young woman and she is devising an escape plan. A Revolutionary War solider as he fights under the brave General Washington. A man has an accident and wakes up not knowing who he is... You get the idea. And pick a random spot in your story, if you'd like. You don't have to start at the very beginning. *cue Sound of Music song* Sorry, I got distracted.

3. It starts now, and ends on the 26th of June. Yeah, I know that's only a week, but I hate waiting. And if it's any longer, Dory here will forget she even has a contest going. Or a blog called Breathings of Your Heart, for that matter.

4. Don't post your entry, just email it to me. I will pick a winner, and maybe some runners up, and those will get posted on BOYH. There is no prize. Just the fact that you are the winner. :)

5. Be creative and have fun!

If you have any questions, email me. I'm so excited to see all the entries!

On your marks, get set, WRITE!

Kathryn :)

Sunday, October 6, 2013

A Friend For Grace- Part TEN

Hand in hand, Wilhelm and I walked out of the barn and into the house looking for Papa. As we neared our wooden home I sent up a heartfelt prayer, hoping Papa would be in an agreeable mood. Sure, lately, he'd been a bit more approachable and slightly kind but he still wasn't the father I knew he could be to my sisters and I or even to Wilhelm. He was still distant and his face was always creased with unhappiness. It seemed that music was the only thing that could cheer him up. And having Wilhelm here also cheered him up. Maybe Wilhelm's arrival wasn't only a blessing for me but for Papa as well. Maybe Wilhelm was the son Papa never had but always wanted. Maybe, just maybe, this little German boy was the answer to prayers long petitioned and not yet answered. I hoped that this was the case

Wilhelm must have noticed the small tear that had escaped and now rolled down my face. 

"You a'right Miss Grace?"

I quickly swiped away a second tear with the back of my hand and answered, "You don't have to keep calling me Miss Grace, you know. I'm you're sister now okay? And yes Wilhelm, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how happy I am that you're here, living with us. I truly believe that God sent you because He knows that we need you.

Wilhelm's eyes clouded at the mention of God and the muscles in his jaw tightened, but before I could ask why, he quickly answered, "Really Miss Grace? You're glad I'm here?"

I raised and eyebrow at his using the term Miss again but let it go. He was trying to get used to having a loving family again. I understood that. "Yes I am Wilhelm. Your coming here has softened my Papa's calloused heart, if even only a bit. Seeing this change in him, as slight as it may be, I know that greater things are still to come of him and for our family and that includes you Wilhelm."

I smiled down at him and opened the door jamp. It was nigh mid day so Papa should be in washing up for lunch. I heard a rustle in the kitchen and knew that was him. In all honesty, my father was a frightening man of 6'2 with long, powerful strides. I could tell that once upon a time his now dim blue eyes sparkled with good humored mischief and fun. Now, his scowl alone could make any perfectly poised girl cry. I was used to it though.

I silently inched closer to him and said, "Excuse me Papa."

He grunted something along the lines of, "What do you want." while drying his hands on a checkered dishrag.

Instead of shrieking back in fear at his lack of enthusiasm, I held my head up high and asked, "Will you allow Wilhelm to play the violin for us tonight? He's very good and has even played under the teaching of Johannes Brahms, an accomplished violinist from Germany.

Papa's already deeply set scowl became even more feirce… if that were possible but his response shocked me. "Well, I don't see why not. He'd better be real careful with it though."

Though it wasn't the ecstatic response I hoped for, he had still given his permission. That was a big step in the right direction.
***
"Wilhelm, did you enjoy dinner tonight?" Mama asked with a smirk on her face as she began clearing the dishes. The boy had scarfed down his steak and onions and this plate was as shiny as a mirror. Mama's cooking was the best and she knew it. Hearing Wilhelm, muffled "Yes'm"confirmed what she already knew to be true. 

"Well Wilhelm, are you going to play or not. We're all waiting to hear what that fancy man taught you." Papa's comment, as rough as it sounded was surprisingly, an eager petition to begin the evening ritual of violin playing at our house.

Wilhelm nodded and got up to the where Papa kept his violin safely tucked away as we all gathered around him. He pulled the instrument out and caressed the shined wooden handle and horse hair strings. His hands moved to the tuning pegs and he rotated several of them until he smiled and said sheepishly, "This song, Hungarian Dance No. 1" was one of Mater's favorites.

He bagan playing. I held my breath hoping that the skills he told me has possessed were indeed as refined as I had imagined. He played a beautiful tune, one that was so alive! It lacked the melancholy I saw etched on Wilhelm face. Perhaps it was the unhappy memories this particular song brought to his mind. But as he reached the climax of this piece, I saw him smile and his eyes twinkled like never before. He was enjoying himself. I looked around the room, at the faces of my family members and saw that they too were genuinely enjoying themselves and Wilhelm's playing. I smiled at him as he began playing more rapidly; his chords sounding like a buzzing bumblebee. When he had finished, he took a bow and walked back the upper shelf where Papa kept the violin. As he faced us all again we clapped for him. I sat there amazed at what I had just witnessed. Wilhelm was a young boy, yes, but his talents were obvious. The boy was a prodigy! 

Papa congratulated him with neutral words, "That was pretty impressive boy. I liked it. Maybe you can play again tomorrow night." 
***
If you'd like to hear Johannes Brahms' "Hungarian Dance No. 1", the piece Wilhelm played in the story, just click here to hear the audio on YouTube.



Tuesday, July 16, 2013

A Friend for Grace~Part 9~

Hi, everyone! This is Jan, and my first post! Yay! :). I hope you like A Friend for Grace, part 9! :)


Wilhelm didn't pull away. One more thought flashed through my mind. The violin! When Papa had played his violin, Wilhelm's eyes had lit up. Why, I wondered. Should I even bring it up?
"Wilhelm, um, I..." I broke off, then began again. "Wilhelm, do you like the violin?" Maybe he'd tell me why.
"Yes. I...." Now Wilhelm broke off, and his face took on a dreamy, happy look. He gave a deep sigh and began talking. "When Mutter, Vater, and I lived in Deutschland, I used to visit a man named Johannes Brahms. I ran into him one day while out, and apologized, but he didn't care. He invited me to his house for a lunch. He was a very nice man, and a famous violinist too. He used to allow me to play on his violin, and he said I had talent. He was going to help me get on the stage, but.." his voice turned into a whisper. "...when we left, the violin was gone for me too." Suddenly I understood. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe Papa could let him practice on his violin. You never know unless you try! I jumped to my feet.
"Come on!" I said. "Lets go see Papa!"

Saturday, June 29, 2013

A Friend for Grace~Part Eight~

Hi everyone! I'm Alivia--one of the new contributors! I just thought I'd share my bio  with you! I hope you like my part!
Hi! My name is Alivia.  I am almost 13 and I have 3 sisters!  I like to read, play piano, play outside because I love nature, go on walks around our neighborhood!  I love animals especially horses and puppies.  I love writing stories!!  I love my family and I am a Christian who loves God so much!!

I held my breath and looked at Papa. The expression on his face changed, his eyes softened. "Well, Wilhelm, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?" Wilhelm looked up at Papa, his eyes wide and scared. He nodded slowly. "In-in Germany,  my Mutter and Vater and I would-would go to-to church on Sonntag. Then, Vater decided to-to move to Amerika and then--" he stopped and looked around at everyone, like he had said more than he had intended to say. Papa cleared his throat. "Well, then I guess you'll be able to fit right in, then." Wilhelm nodded slowly and climbed into the wagon and sat as close to me as he could.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That afternoon, after getting home from church, Wilhelm and I went outside. We sat against my favorite old oak tree and just listened to the wind. Then, Wilhelm started talking again, slowly at first, but then it came pouring out. "After Vater decided to move to Amerika, we pack and pack. Mutter did not want to go, she like our home in Deutschland. But Vater said, "We go to Amerika," so we go. On the schiff, Mutter and Vater be very sick. Then, Mutter--she, she died. Vater died soon after. I was alone. A kind lady helped me find my way to an Waisenhaus and they sent me here to your family." I sat there, stunned. Wilhelm had just told me what was the inner source of all his sorrows. I didn't know what else to do but to put my arm around him.

Translation for German words:

Mutter--Mother
Vater--Father
Sonntag--Sunday
Amerika--America
Deutschland--Germany
Schiff--Boat
Waisenhaus--orphanage