A Joyful Army of Six

We are Brian and Cara Bergeron. We currently live, homeschool, work, and play soccer in beautiful Southcentral Oregon. We are children of God, children of two marvelous sets of parents who are still happily married, children of the '80s, children who fell in love when we were but children, children who have inherited four unexpected and undeserved blessings from the Lord--Brandt, Gresham, Seth, and Evangeline. Together we are (as Eva will tell you with a shout) "in the Lord's army. Lethirrrr!"

Friday, November 21, 2008

A Story by Brandt

This is Brandt's version of the Boston Tea Party story. You can see many of the same ideas and word choices as they both took from the same source document. But the style is different. As are the metaphors, similes and word choices. My favorite metaphor in Brandt's is "pickled vengeance." He worked hard for that one!

The Boston Tea Party
a story by Brandt Bergeron

In December, 1773, a cool evening had developed in the congested streets of Boston. Abnormally, the regularly clamorous crowds seemed tense, as though waiting for something. People conversed in hushed tones. Ten-year-old Paul stood with his elder brother, who was a member of the impassioned Sons of Liberty, waiting. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen but he knew that it had to do with the three sleek British ships, bursting with tea, lying in the harbor like still and defiant rebels.

According to rumor, Paul’s father had told him that the Exasperating Roadblock, King George of England, had taxed the colonies greatly on items such as paper goods, ink, lead, and, most of all, tea. The governor enforced taxes cruelly. Fuming colonists despised it. They became indignant. Determinedly, they refused to buy highly taxed items and felt cheated and angry and demanded that the recent shipment of tea to the colonies be sent back to England at once. However, the unrelenting governor stated that, “The King’s orders are imperative to right living and that, to obey them properly, the tea must be completely unloaded by the night of December 16.” Tonight was that very night.

Suddenly, dozens of “indians” wove warily through the crowds. As they passed, Paul realized that the “indians,” who were carrying axes, weren’t Indians at all. They were the Sons of Liberty! They boarded the ships. Then came an ominous noise . . . “Whack! Crack! Split! Splash!” After a few moments, the pungent scent of tea and sea water filled the night air like pickled vengeance. A cry broke out and people began to chant wildly, “Rally Indians! Bring your axes, and tell King George we’ll pay no taxes!” Paul was certain that the disdainful King George would understand this bitter message.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hooray, Brandt! Your use of imagery was well done. I am proud of your excellent handling of adjectives. You had me waiting right along with all of them!

Make sure he reads my comment. :)

7:25 PM  

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