WEN: 2260EE
Exhibitor Name: Jeshua Wickham
Division: Creative Writing--
Class: 04 Short Stories (
Jeshua Wickham 3/11/20
For life and Liberty
The drizzling rain continued to fall on his damp cloak and hat. The ground was soft and muddy beneath its blanket of wet pine needles. Huddled beneath a tree he scrunched over farther, and painstakingly continued to etch out the words. “My dearest Mother, I am. . .” How should he continue? “I am well, but miserable for home and family.” He paused once more, deliberating. Should he let her know how bad the conditions actually were? Yes, though gentle, she was not a woman to be easily worried. She would want to know the particulars of his situation. “ The camp here is miserable, cold, and wet. It feels as if I should never be fully dry again. It has been drizzling and misting continuously for the last three days. The men are dispirited and dull. I don’t blame them, either. I find myself wondering why I am here? If only. . . If only what? If only he had known what he was doing? If only he had not been so rash? His mind went back to that summer day. Oh, how long ago it seemed now. It was April, the year 1777. He could almost picture it now. . . . . . . . The sounds mingled in his ears as he walked along the streets of the town. The creaking of the carts and wagons as they lumbered through the streets with their loads. The lighter noise of the carriages and the clippity clop of the horses hooves as they drew the light buggies behind them. Children shouted and laughed as they played in the dusty street. Women’s skirts swished softly along the boardwalk behind him, accompanied by their chatter and gossip in high voices. He reached the carpenter shop and stepped inside. Immediately the sounds faded out. The scent of aromatic white pine and maple wood, birch and ash filled the air. He breathed deeply. Yes, this was his chosen profession. He felt sure of it every time he stepped into the shop. Nodding in answer to the greetings the men gave him, he made his way to his bench and set to work. As he rolled up his sleeves, he thought about the week's orders. There was the printing press for the new workshop in town. The
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