"A Struggle In New Orleans", One of Aquila's worst pieces of writing.

I know it's bad, but I decided to post it anyway.
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"A Struggle in New Orleans"
By Aquila


The British and the Americans battled fiercely in my city. The stakes, my home city of New Orleans. Not being much of a fighter, I did not charge out and bravely fight off the British like other brave men who wanted to defend their city did. Rather, I stayed with my family and comforted them. However, I could not bear just sitting here and doing nothing to help push the British back. My wife did not want me to go out and fight the British. Though I did respect her wishes, her telling me she did not want me to go out and fight was not the real reason I did not do so. The real reason was that I was afraid to go out and join the battle against the British. I feared death like any sane man should. I, however, decided on another way I could help. Since I owned a large store, which doubled as my home, I could send supplies to the part of the city that had the most fighting.

But who would take the supplies, I thought. I was too afraid to take the supplies myself even though I knew the supplies I wanted to send could prove to be very useful to those fighting the British. I knew I had to find someone to take the supplies. I told my wife about my predicament, but she merely told me to give up hoping to get the supplies transported. As I began to reply, I was interrupted by a loud, repeated, clicking sound that sounded like horses dashing along the top of a road.

My wife and I exchanged puzzled glances and I said, “That sounds like horses on the road.”.

My wife nodded. “It is getting louder.”

I knew what that meant. The horses were coming closer to the house. I got up from the chair where I was sitting in the front room, and looked out the window. I spotted about twenty or more British dragoons dismounting their horses, and about fifteen were heading in the direction of my house. I gasped, frightened about what this meant.

“What’s wrong?” my wife asked.

My wife’s eyes widened as I briefly told her about what I saw. “Averum, I will get the children; you should lock the front door and head toward the back door.”

I nodded and locked the door as my wife headed toward our children’s rooms. I then turned back and monitored how far away the British were from the door. They were only about ten feet from my house and were getting nearer. They were fully armed and they looked fully ready to meet any attack with force.

What do they want with my family and I? I thought.

The question was still fresh in my mind as I hurriedly turned from the window and headed for my room. I made my way into the kitchen and stopped when I saw my wife with my children also in the kitchen.

I looked into my wife’s green eyes, hoping to offer some comfort in this frightening situation. I tried giving her a cheerful smile, but my smile came out looking forced and it did nothing to relieve my wife of the worry I could see in her eyes.

“Do not worry dear,” I said soothingly to my wife. “Everything will be fine.”

Though that did take away some of the worry in my wife’s eyes, I could still see that she still was deeply concerned about what would become of her and her family. I was about to tell her to head for the back door while I got something, but a shot rang loud and it sounded nearby to my ears.

My wife’s eyes widened again. “That sounded like that was not too far from our house.”

I nodded. “Go ahead and hurry for the back door with the children. I will meet you there after I get something important.

My wife nodded. “Please hurry.”

I nodded and my wife and I headed our separate ways. As I made my way through the hallways of my house to my room, I heard the sound of men yelling and more nearby shots.

It sounds like a battle is going on outside my house, I thought.

The thought was not pleasant, but I did not dwell on it too much once I reached my room. I headed toward the desk in my room and I took a key that was lying on my desk and put it in the keyhole of one of my drawers. I turned the key and with an audible click, the drawer was unlocked. I pulled the drawer open and the contents of the drawer was before my eyes. A musket that I knew to have only one musket ball loaded. I took the musket out of the drawer. It felt strange in my hand. I only kept the weapon just in case I would ever have to defend myself or my family. I never thought I would actually use the musket. I stuck the musket in my belt and I walked through the hallways of my house till’ I reached the back door, where my wife and children were waiting.

My wife opened the door. My family and I stepped out and we were instantly greeted with all the sounds of war amplified. The sound of artillery being fired and men yelling seemed to be significantly louder to me. Adding to the noise was the cries and sobs of my terrified children. I looked to my right to see my wife comforting my children. I then looked up from my wife and children to get a good idea of where I was.

I stood in back of my house in front of a road. This area was surprisingly tranquil; the battle had obviously not reached this side of the city.

“Now what do we do?” my wife asked. “This is probably the safest place in the entire city.”

I turned to my wife. “I am going to go see what is going on in the front of our house.”

My wife’s eyes widened in fear and surprise. “No, you cannot. You
could get killed.

“I will be careful,” I replied. “I’ll make sure I am not spotted.”

“Why must you do this?” my wife asked frantically.

“Something happened to those soldiers to cause them to not enter our house.”

“How do you know the soldiers are not in there right now looking for us?”

“A commotion is going on in the front of our house. I think that has caused the British to be distracted and not enter our house.”

“Then why do you want to risk your life and going to the front where the British could quite possibly be.”

A bunch of shouting followed by more shots and screams of anguish was heard.

“Because something big is happening in front of our house and I cannot just stand here and guess as to what it might be.”

My wife’s eyes drooped. “If you must see go quickly, but be back soon and be careful.”

I nodded and took my wife’s hand. I lead her to an alleyway that was in between my house and our neighbor’s house.

“I want you to stay here and be very quiet,” I said to my wife.

I turned away from my wife and children and headed down the alleyway, hugging the wall of my house. When I could see the front of my house clearly I could see what was happening. Around six or eight British soldiers were on the road firing their weapons at about ten Louisianans who I recognized as the people who lived in this neighborhood. About twelve British dead bodies laid all about the still alive and fighting British soldiers. As opposed to the five dead Louisianan bodies.

How did this all happen, I wondered.

It seemed hard to believe that not too long ago I had been sitting here considering what I could do to help this battle end. Now the battle had been taken all the way to the front of my house.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard multiple screams of anguish from the British soldiers followed by more screams from the Louisianans. Three British soldiers and two Louisianans fell on the ground dead. The British charged the Louisianans, who were still trying to ready their weapons for another round of fire. The Louisianans immediately ran back from the pursuing British. As the British neared the bodies of the Louisianans who had died in the fight, I noticed one of the bodies stirred.

One of those men is still alive, I thought with horror.

Once the British were right next to the bodies of the dead Louisianans, one of the British soldiers raised his weapon above the Louisianan who had stirred on the ground earlier. I knew instantly that he would try to kill the man. I raised my musket, getting ready to pull the trigger, but I hesitated. If I shot the British soldier, then my presence would be made known to the other British and they would come after me and then they would notice my family and come after them.

But if I do not pull the trigger, then the man will die, I thought.

Those few seconds of hesitation was the reason the British soldier ran the man through. Now he really was dead. I was horrified at the sight of the man being killed. An inner rage burst forth as I walked out from the shade of the alleyway between my house and my neighbor’s house.

I thought I heard the sound of my wife saying no, but I paid her protest no mind. The British soldier who had killed the man right before my eyes was now running along to catch up with the other British soldiers, who were still in pursuit of the other Louisianans. I pointed my musket in the direction of the British soldier and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out and the British soldiers fell on the ground.

Serves him right, I thought with disgust.

Then I snapped out of my blind rage and I realized how foolish I had been for shooting that man. The other British soldiers turned around and spotted me. I was paralyzed with fear as the British charged in my direction. They grew nearer and nearer, and my own fright would not let me move to get away. When the British were about five feet away from me, the sound of a bunch on shots rang out loud and clear. With screams of pain, all the British soldiers fell on the ground. I looked up to see all the Louisianans standing in a straight line with weapons smoking.

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Do not ever do that to me again,” I heard a female voice said.

I turned to see my wife in tears standing outside of the alleyway. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

I walked over to her and embraced her warmly, telling her how sorry I was for doing such risky things.

“It is over. The British soldiers are dead. We are going to be fine,” I said soothingly to my wife.

I felt her nod in my chest.

“Come on, let’s go home. The battle outside this area is still going on. We can only hope it will end soon and not come to our doorstep again”

I thanked the Louisianans for saving my life. I got my sobbing and crying children from the alleyway and went home with my family.

Is it so bad nobody will even comment on it?

Ill read it later...Im not drawn to it, its about New Orleans or something, and you said it was your worst writing, which really makes people want to read it, I promise Ill read it, later

So what if it's in New Orleans? I wouldn't post it if it were not at least interesting. The reason I posted it was because I figured someone might as well post something in the Lit section. Maybe I should get Rincey to post one of his stories.....

I read it, it was pretty good.

Thanks.

I wish I had other, better prose to post here, but I don't have any other short stories. All other better works of mine are chapters from a community-esque story I'm working on, and, since it's a community-esque story, it won't be as well received as it is on the place I have it posted. Maybe I could post a chapter or two of it though......

Wow, I never read it before becauuse I was too busy (really lazy) to read that much. But I read it and WOW! If you say that was one of your worst pieces of writing than your others must be really good! Once again WOW!

superdude, do you not read very many books?

I read lots why?

If you read so much, then why would you think my story is THAT good? Compared to most novels, this story was pretty bad.

Well I don't really know, I just thought it was really good.

Is the story finished?

Yup. It was just a short story of mine.

If you insist.

*Banned*

If you're going to call someone a noob, at least capitalize and use correct grammar.