Another Ordinary Colonial Wedding (Life of the Ordinary Americans #4)

Another Ordinary Colonial Wedding (Life of the Ordinary Americans #4)

A Story by Miiki

Samantha's wedding was just any ordinary one. There was her dress, a groom, cake, and Indians crashing the reception. Yep, just another ordinary colonial wedding.


Dear Journal,

                        I haven’t seen Elizabeth in months. I’m sure that she’s really busy with her new family now, but I wish she could be here to see my new family as well. The last time I had seen Elizabeth was on her wedding day, which I remember clearly. I was seated next to a young man with brown hair and bright green eyes.

            “Hello,” he greeted me with a smile, “It’s nice to see you again, Sam.”

And when had said that, I realized that he was the same Michael Brown who went to school with me when I was younger.

“It’s been thirteen years, Michael. Call me Samantha!” I told him.

“Samantha is too long, I think Sam suits you.”

“But that’s a boy’s name for heaven sakes!” But even as I said that, I couldn’t help smiling from all of the memories I had from the times when we were younger. We talked to each other for a long time as I ate my slice of cake that had nutmeg in it, but when he received news about his mother becoming ill, he told me that he was going to have to leave. I couldn’t stand the fact of being here without him, so I told him that I still remembered her from when I was little and wanted to visit her too. He and I left Elizabeth’s wedding early and that was the last time I saw her. I stayed over at his home for a few days to tend to his ill mother and when I believed she was well enough, I came back to Elizabeth’s home to only find it empty. The house was silent and felt a lot lonelier than it ever did before. Was Elizabeth mad at me for leaving her wedding early? Or did she leave with her family and forget to tell me goodbye? I felt uneasy staying in her home and started to think that I would never see her again, so I started to live with Michael and his family.    

Living with Michael has made me fall in love with him. Although he may not be the richest man, he has given me everything I need. When he had found out about Elizabeth, he wanted me to live with him because he knew that being in Elizabeth’s home would only make me sad because all of the memories that were created in the home and the emptiness of not having Elizabeth and her new family here with me anymore. Michael was caring, understanding, and could always make me smile. After a couple of months living with him, we had a son together. I decided to name him Charlie and give him my last name, White. Michael and I were happy to raise a son like him. I was astonished at how much Charlie looked like his father. They both had the same green eyes and brown hair, but their personalities were pretty similar too. Charlie could make anybody laugh, but was also caring and intelligent for someone his age. After Charlie’s first birthday, Michael and I thought that it was time to finally get married.

On the day of our wedding, I picked out my purple, floral print dress that had lace at the ends. I would always save the dress for special occasions since it was my favorite, so after a few tailoring corrections, it became my wedding dress. It was a chilly day in January and the ground was covered in blankets of snow. The cold wind entered the house as guests entered for the wedding, but for each gasp of wind that flooded the house, I became even more nervous about today.  There wasn’t a lot to worry about, but shouldn’t I be happier than I was nervous about today? As I walked down the aisle, I couldn’t look at anything other than Michael or else I would’ve fainted from all the eyes that were watching me. Michael stood at the end, smiling brightly and standing proudly next to Charlie who was pulling at Michael’s coat and soon plopped himself on the floor out of boredom for standing there too long. When the ceremony was finally over, I silently let out a sigh of relief. Michael and I were now happily married to one another and there was nothing to worry about. At least that was what I had thought.

The feast after the ceremony was the second best part about that day. Coffee, tankards of spiced hard cider, fish, stewed oysters, roasted pig, venison, duck, potatoes, baked rye bread, Indian cornbread, and pumpkin casserole were served, as well as nutmeats and candy for the children. But my absolute favorite was the thick wedding cake. I could smell the warm smell of the spices, alcohol, dried fruit and nuts that were baked inside and watching the guests look for the slice with the nutmeg was always my favorite part. And I couldn’t help laugh when Charlie was the one with the slice of cake that had nutmeg in it. Instead of being happy, he was too young to understand and became upset about how his cake was different than everybody else’s. About halfway through the feast, I noticed that these men had entered, they were skinny, their faces were covered in scars, and they were dressed in red uniforms.

I approached them and said, “Are you from the British army?”

“Yes, ma’am. My name is William and this here is my friend, James. We’ve deserted the British army, we couldn’t take fighting in the war along them anymore,” said the taller one with the darker hair.

            “You must’ve went a long way before you got here. Please, come sit down and enjoy my wedding feast,” I told them as I showed them their seats.

            “Congratulations on your special day,” said James.

            “Thank you. Now tell me about the war, are we doing any good at all?”

            “With the way both sides are fighting, chances don’t look very good for us,” said William, “all the soldiers on the British side want to use guerrilla warfare, but the British officers seem to hate us enough to ensure we would die in battle.”

            “They don’t want us to move at all!” James said angrily as he slammed his hand on the table, “we have to stand still and get shot. And if we take one step out of our ranks, Colonel Preble threatens that he would knock us down.”

            “And if we do anything wrong, they would tie us up and give us about 500 to 800 lashes. 300 was already horrific, there would no flesh left on the shoulders and they just hang there, motionless as if they were dead. But 300 lashes weren’t enough for the British. They’d have doctors standing by with vials filled with these sharp things and apply it to their noses, without showing the slightest sign of caring to see if the soldier still had any sign of life within them. If they even flinched the tiniest bit, they would commence with the whipping to the point where it was unbearable to even look at our fellow soldier.”

            “But other than the harshness of British officers,” said James, “the war doesn’t looks o good for us. Like there was this one time when we were ordered to move forward and storm the French’s breast-works and to get in if we could, but their lines were full and as each second passed, another man would die. We hid behind tress, logs, stumps, anything that we could hide behind and try to move as fast as we could when the French had to pause for the smoke to clear. “

            “But we seemed so helpless and vulnerable out there. A man hiding behind a log, lifted his head no higher than a centimeter, but was still struck by a ball. It tore through his scalp and all the way back to the crown of his head. It was almost impossible to move without getting hit, and by the time it was actually over there were too many men on the ground that were dead or wounded. James and I were just lucky enough to get out there alive. If only the British would come up with better plans, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

            “I just don’t understand. We’re the ones risking our lives and helping them with this war, but in return they’re treating men like you terribly,” I said, “And their plans, ‘get in if you can?’ they should have something more solid, and something that can actually be done and won’t have the word ‘if’ in it.”

            “The British don’t deserve to have us fighting for them!” William said angrily, “They’re cruel to us and can’t come up with a good enough plan that could keep more men alive than dead. If it weren’t for those Indians, we’d…”

            A scream rang throughout the house. Other people began to panic and children ran to their mothers. I pushed through mounds of people to see what was going on and ended up face to face with an Indian.

            “Who are you?” I asked him.

            “I am known as the Half King,” he replied. I instantly thought of when George Washington had told me about when the Half King had killed Jumonville.

            “What are you doing here?” I said trying to hide my fear.

            “I need your help. I have heard about you from George Washington and how you’ve helped him. There is a Huron war party after me because I’ve been fighting alongside George Washington and the British. If you don’t help me, they are going to kill me.”

            “How am I supposed to help someone who has caused George Washington so much trouble? You were the reason why this war has started because you just had to kill Jumonville, so maybe it would be best if I didn’t help you and let fate take it’s path,” I told him.

            “You have to help me!” He yelled at me.

            “Samantha!” Michael called out to me, “Is everything al-“

            “If you love this man as much as I think you do, you will help me if you want to have him back alive,” the Half King said as he held Michael by the neck. Michael struggled to get free, but the Half King must’ve been a lot stronger than he looked.

            I was going to give in to save Michael, but there was a Indian call in the distance and everybody saw a group of Huron Indians through the window. That was when I understood what guerrilla warfare looked like. It looked like the snow and anything outside was moving. It confused you; you couldn’t believe what was really snow or what was a Huron disguised to match the background. Before anyone could even say anything, the Huron Indians were so quick and silent that before anyone could even think another thought, they had already broke in. Most of the women and children were able to flee, but the Huron Indians used a tomahawk to hit people to the point they couldn’t move at all. By hitting them in the collarbone and then in the skull, leaving the person lying there, unable to move any bone in their body. It was a signal to the Huron to take out a knife and cut off their scalp to take back to the French. After the first scalping, everybody began screaming. They didn’t care who they were knocking over to escape the grasp of the Huron. After they killed enough people from the wedding reception, they expanded to the village. I found Charlie and ran away, but as Charlie was screaming in my arms, I saw a glimpse of the Half King dragging Michael into the woods nearby.

            I followed him, I was angry with him for ruining my wedding day and angry with the Huron for killing those innocent people. The only way I couldn’t be angry with myself was to get Michael and Charlie out of here alive. The Half King had heard Charlie’s crying and there was no way I could secretly get Michael out. I either had to save the Half King from the Huron or I was going to have to let him kill Michael. I didn’t want to do neither.

            “This is your last chance,” the Half King said, staring at me with cold eyes.

            “Isn’t there another way?” I asked desperately.

            “Do you want your husband to die that badly?”

            I looked at Michael, “Of course not, but I don’t want to help you either.”

            “Well you’re going to have to choose now or you might as well count him dead.”

            I stood there shaking with fear; I didn’t know what to do. But that was when the idea hit me. All the Half King wanted was protection from the Huron.

            “Stay here,” I told him, “I’ll be back.”

            “How do I know that this isn’t a trick?”

            I placed Charlie down and told him to stay with his father.       

            “You know that I love my son too much to let him die by a person like you,” I said as I ran back to Michael’s house. I made sure that there was no Huron Indians left in the house and ran into the room where Michael kept his Brown Bess musket and hurried back to the Half King.

            “If you want protection, take this with you. You’ll have a larger advantage against the Huron with this.”

            He released Michael and headed further in to the woods. I was glad that he had left Michael and Charlie alone.

            “I thought you didn’t want to help him,” said Michael as he picked up Charlie and tried to soothe him.

            “Well, I wouldn’t really say that I helped him. I’m just glad that he didn’t test it out before he left.”

            “You gave him the Brown Bess that had the broken trigger?”

            “Yeah, it was all I could think of to get you back safely.”

            He laughed and gave me that same grin when I saw him again at Elizabeth’s wedding, “I’m glad I’m married to you, Sam.”

            “I told you to call me Samantha! Even after we’re married, you’re still calling me a name fitted for a man!”

            We both grinned and even Charlie was happier than when the Huron had attacked. We returned to what was left of the village we lived in, there were less people now, but more sad memories I had to remember. I was just grateful to have Michael by my side and Charlie to watch grow up.


~Samantha White

© 2012 Miiki

Author's Note

I have to write these stories in my social studies class with my character, Samantha White. This is the 4th of the stories, so some things like Elizabeth, may not make sense. Let me know if you want me to explain it, but other than that, I hope you like it. :)

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I like that you've set up the story without rushing into things. It takes patiece to do that. It's nice that Michael isn't your cliched perfect guy (disliking her name) but rather than telling us 'he's intelligent' it'd be wonderful to express it in an indirect way, like 'he used these amazing skills with his quick thoughts, leading to conclusions much faster than me' or something like that.

Posted 7 Years Ago


7 Years Ago

No - I meant how he didn't like Samantha's name - he liked to shorten it. But do consider showing ra.. read more

7 Years Ago

Oh, sorry for misunderstanding. And yeah, that's something I'm working on. But thanks for the feedba.. read more

7 Years Ago

Oh no it's fine - I should've been clearer. You're welcome. I hope it helps
This seem really good. i would appreciate it if you could mark it some how so i would know the other ones you make i would love to read them all.

Posted 7 Years Ago


7 Years Ago

Thanks! I'll post the rest when I'm free :)

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2 Reviews
Added on October 29, 2012
Last Updated on November 3, 2012



Doylestown, PA

I created this account when I was if you look at my older writing, my age might have affected the language and content a little? Anywho, it's about 5 years later and I'll be turning 18 soo.. more..

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