Hanging on the wall above his tiny bed

is what our child sees when first he lifts his head.

Colors, bright and vivid, each flower a different hue.

A ray of sunshine in his room illuminates the view.

Two hands are reaching out, one gives and one receives

a small bouquet of flowers, but our young child believes

it means much more to him; friendship, peace, and love.

This is what he sees in the flowers up above.

Simple lines and vivid colors draw our child’s eye

to the picture on his wall reminding him to try

to live each day as flowers do, bringing joy and peace.

If he does, his own life’s joy shall tenfold be increased.

That old house, I remember it well. The stone steps

leading to

the landing area with a small window, the morning sun

peaking through.

A closet right, the dining room left, where I had my eighth

birthday.

The kitchen where my grandma made popcorn

the old-fashioned way.

Through the kitchen, down the stairs, to the basement

we would run.

A pool table and ping-pong set, for us kids always

great fun.

Back up the stairs and out the door, to a backyard

swingset where

we pushed each other for hours on end. We didn’t have

a care.

Family would gather in the living room, in front of the old

T.V.

So many football and baseball games, with such great

company.

Uncles, aunts, and cousins. My sister, my dad,

and me.

Every holiday and birthday, this is where we’d

always be.

The back of the house was bedrooms, my grandma’s and

a guest.

A toybox filled with toys for kids, my He-man was

the best.

One more room upstairs, a room we’d never

see.

A room reserved for a brother who came and went

before me.

Nobody was ever there,

When I would do something good.

You always said I’d be a nobody,

So I began to think I would.

All my life I lived in hate,

I couldn’t help but see,

All the years before I vanished,

You never said you loved me.

Now I’m gone, but I’m still here,

I don’t expect you to understand.

Now it’s my turn, I will take you

To my castle made of sand.

No one ever cared,

Now you’re running scared.

Please don’t fuck with me,

’Cause I will always be

Better than you.

At everything

You do.

Alone.

It’s cold.

I moan.

I scold.

It gets worse.

I curse, alone.

By myself.

I cry.

I don’t.

Know why.

It’s cold.

Alone.

I cry.

No one.

Is here.

To hear.

My fear.

Alone.

My madness.

Unspoken.

I soon will.

Be broken.

12/13/95

Chapter Nine

The boys left the tent quickly, Austin leading the way with Charlie right behind him. Their adrenaline was pumping, both with the importance of delivering their letter and the realization that they would be crossing the river with General Washington tonight. As the boys came within sight of the icy river, they once again turned left to follow it north to Captain Hamilton’s camp. They were moving much more quickly than before, alternating between running and walking fast. As they followed the river, there was no forest ahead of them as there had been before. The river had several turns in it, with a few trees lining the banks but not enough to constitute a forest. After just a few minutes of traveling, they could even see their destination far off in the distance. The fact that they could see Captain Hamilton’s camp made them move even faster. With no forest to slow them down, they covered the distance quickly, taking less than thirty minutes to cover the mile between camps.

When they got to the third and final camp, the setting sun had not yet touched the horizon. They ran through the camp until they found the headquarters tent with a flag posted outside of it. This time, without waiting, they burst into the tent unannounced.

“Captain Hamilton, we have an urgent message for you from Colonel Knox!” Austin shouted as they rushed into the tent. A young man of no more than twenty-one was sitting at the map table in the center of the tent. He wore the same officer’s uniform that they had seen twice before, but with his jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up.

“I’m Captain Hamilton,” he stood to address them as they entered the tent. “ What news do you bring me?” Austin, without another word, handed him the third and final copy of Colonel Knox’s letter. Captain Hamilton perused the letter quickly, his eyes taking in the entirety of the message in just a few moments. After reading the letter, he destroyed it in the same manner as his two fellow officers before him.

“And what of you two?” Hamilton said, addressing the boys. “What’s to become of you now that your task is completed? I’m in need of two good messengers to accompany me on this mission, and you seem highly qualified.”

Charlie spoke first. “Yes, sir. We were instructed by Colonel Knox to remain with you as your messengers.”

“Wonderful. I’m Captain Alexander Hamilton of New York, commander of the New York State Company of Artillery. But you already knew that, apparently. What then are your names, lads?”

“My name is Austin, and this is my best friend Charlie,” Austin responded.

“Austin and Charles, splendid. You must be tired after delivering these messages. You’re welcome to stay in my tent and rest for a bit. You’ll need your strength for what we attempt tonight. I’m off to confer with the officers and NCOs of the company, and to begin preparations for the crossing.”

Captain Hamilton donned his uniform jacket and left the tent quickly. They could hear him shouting commands to others as he moved rapidly away from the tent. As they listened to Captain Hamilton’s voice fade into the distance, the boys warmed themselves by the stove and discussed all they had experienced thus far.

“We did it,” Charlie said. “We delivered our messages to the three camps. We did our part to help the American Revolution. How many kids from our class can say that?”

“And can you believe we will be crossing the river tonight with General George Washington?” Austin added, excitedly.

Charlie looked at his friend. Austin’s eyes were glowing. He really did love the adventure that they were on. Charlie had noticed that not only was Austin having a good time but that he was learning a good bit about history as well. But he had something to say that Austin might not like.

“Yea, about that. Austin, listen. That river crossing tonight is going to be very dangerous. And what comes after it will be even more dangerous. A real battle in a real war. You wanted an adventure, and we had one. I was hesitant at first, but I have to admit that this has been fun. But I think we should open the book now and get back home. Back to our own time.”

Austin said nothing for a long time. He and Charlie had been best friends for as long as he could remember. Several times, Charlie’s quick thinking had gotten them out of tough situations that Austin had gotten them into. He knew that Charlie was right. It would be dangerous. But Austin just couldn’t bring himself to leave yet.

“You go,” Austin finally said. “Thanks for coming this far with me. I can’t leave yet. This is the most fun I’ve ever had. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a soldier. I’m sure that's what I'll be when we grow up. You may be a doctor, a scientist, or a historian, but those things sound boring as heck to me. This is where I belong.” Austin took the First Person History book out of his satchel and handed it to Charlie. Charlie looked down at the book in his hands, turning it over and examining it. But he didn’t open it. Instead, Charlie set the book on the map table and looked back to Austin.

“If you’re staying, then I’m staying too. We’ve come this far together, I can’t leave you now. Besides, your mom would kill me if I came back without you.”

Austin smiled a big smile, reached for Charlie, and gave him an awkward hug. Charlie hugged his friend back, but both boys pulled away quickly and acted like it hadn't happened.

“Thanks, pal,” Austin said to Charlie. “Now, we should try to get a little rest, like Captain Hamilton said. We might be in for a long night.”

With that, the boys lay down on the two cots in the small tent and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Ten

The boys were awakened a few hours later by the sound of Captain Hamilton entering the tent.

“Awaken, lads. The time has come to put our plans into execution. The boats are waiting for us on the riverbank.”

As Austin and Charlie rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they saw Captain Hamilton gathering some books and papers from the map table and placing them into a satchel. He handed the satchel to a soldier standing by the entrance of the tent awaiting instructions.

“Take these and place them in my saddlebag, then take my horse to the riverbank to await further instructions. I shall be there shortly.”

“Yes, sir,” was the soldier's reply, and he quickly left the tent.

The boys exited the tent and found the night air cool and quiet, with light snow beginning to fall. A full moon illuminated the snowy ground so brightly that it looked nearly as bright as daytime. They waited outside the tent for Captain Hamilton to finish gathering his things. Once he exited the tent, the boys walked alongside him as they made their way toward the river. As they walked, Captain Hamilton filled the boys in on some important details that they would need to know in the coming hours. They were to cross the river in a boat with Captain Hamilton and some of his men while his aide, Private Smith (the soldier they saw earlier in the tent) would take his horse across the water on a larger ferry-type boat. After disembarking on the opposite shore, Captain Hamilton would mount his horse and lead the troops on a march to Trenton, a distance of about nine miles. The boys were to stay with Private Smith during the march to Trenton. This being an artillery company, they would stop on a spot of high ground above Queen Street just before they reached Trenton. This would allow them an advantageous position to direct their artillery fire on the Hessians occupying the city.

After a few minutes of walking, the trio reached the river. Standing before them were hundreds of soldiers standing in neatly arranged formations. The boys could see the men shivering in the cold. They looked as though they had been standing there for quite a while, a light dusting of snow had begun to build up on their heads and shoulders. The boys followed Hamilton to the right flank of the formation where his aide, Private Smith, was standing holding the reins of a beautiful white horse. Hamilton spoke to Smith for a moment, then turned back to the boys.

“Charles, Austin, this is Private Smith, my aide. Once we reach the New Jersey shore, you shall meet Private Smith and take your directions from him. From this moment forward, you are never to leave my side unless directed. The same goes for Private Smith, of which he is already well aware. Take a few moments to get acquainted, we shall begin the crossing shortly.”

With that, the boys watched Hamilton walk to the front of the formation and address the large company of soldiers. His speech was spirited and motivational. He told them of the challenges that lay ahead, but also spoke about the glory of the victory that was to follow. His men cheered him wildly and were enthusiastic despite the bitterly cold conditions.

While Hamilton was speaking to his men, Private Smith introduced himself to the boys.

“Good evening, young men. My name is Private Daniel Smith. How long have you been in the service of Captain Hamilton?”

“We just got here today, actually,” Austin answered.

“Right into the action, I see. Excellent.”

“Private Smith, do you expect there’s anybody waiting for us on the other side of the river?” Charlie asked, trying to mask the concern in his voice.

“There’s always that possibility. But with this being Christmas night, I expect that the Hessians have no idea we are coming. General Washington has intelligence that the Hessians have no outpost or patrols established tonight. We should be able to take them by surprise.”

The boys spoke to Private Smith for a few more minutes, going over the details of where they would meet once they were across the river. Then, as Captain Hamilton wrapped up his speech, Smith took the reins of the horse and led it downstream a few hundred yards where the boys could see in the moonlight other horses and men waiting to board several larger boats.

Hamilton gave one final order to his troops and they all began moving at once. It appeared to the boys to be chaos, but it was an ordered chaos as well. Every man seemed to know exactly which boat to board. As the first men began boarding the boats and crossing the icy river, the remaining men lined up on the shore awaiting their turn. Each boat could hold about a dozen men, so the boats would be required to make many trips back and forth across the river, ferrying more men across each time.

Hamilton rejoined the boys and pointed to a boat waiting on the shore. A few men were already loaded into the boat, clearly waiting for their Commander to join them before shoving off. The trio walked together down to the riverbank, Hamilton leading the way with the boys following close behind. Once they were beside the boat, Austin said quietly to Charlie,

“We’re supposed to get in first. The Commander is always the last one in and the first one out.” Charlie looked at Austin for a moment, then said,

“How do you know that?”

“It’s military protocol.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, deferring to Austin’s knowledge of the military. Austin grabbed the side of the boat and hopped over effortlessly. He reached his hand out and helped his friend climb in, a motion they had repeated hundreds of times before, climbing trees and playing on playgrounds together.

Captain Hamilton took one last look at the busy action around him on the Pennsylvania shore before stepping gracefully into the boat. The oarsmen immediately shoved off into the icy water and just like that, Austin and Charlie were crossing the Deleware River on their way to the Battle of Trenton.

Chapter Eleven

Although they were with Alexander Hamilton, not George Washington, the scene before the boys appeared much the same as the famous painting they remembered. Hamilton was not standing, as Washington was in the painting. Instead, he was sitting in the bow of the boat, closely observing the opposite shore and the men disembarking from their boats as quietly as possible in the moonlit darkness. There was also no American flag accompanying them. Charlie did see the colored flag from the headquarters tent in the boat being carried by a very young-looking soldier. Charlie had heard Austin call this flag a guidon. But other than those details, the scene was eerily similar to the painting. Dozens of boats rowed quietly across the icy river just a few yards from one another. In the bow of the boat sitting to the left of Hamilton was a soldier holding a long pole. His job was to push large chunks of ice away from the path of the boat. Every now and then the boys felt a spray of water hit their faces from the slapping of the oars in the water, and the freezing water stung their cheeks. For the most part, however, the boys didn’t notice the cold temperature because their bodies were warm with adrenaline.

The boats proceeded slowly but surely across the river, and after about twenty minutes the boys once again planted their feet on dry land, this time on the New Jersey side of the river. All around them, the organized chaos had resumed. Soldiers were disembarking their boats and hurrying to form columns on a wide, snowy path heading south parallel to the river. Further downstream, they could see the horses and heavy artillery cannons being unloaded from the ferry boats.

The boys kept close to Captain Hamilton, as he had instructed. Charlie thought that Hamilton’s personality had shifted noticeably since they had landed on the New Jersey shore. Instead of the quiet, reserved young officer they met in the tent, they witnessed Hamilton issuing orders and taking control of the organized chaos around him. He never shouted commands in anger but spoke with authority. He did not belittle his subordinates but spoke to them with respect.

As Hamilton continued supervising the soldiers forming columns on the road, Private Smith walked up leading Hamilton’s white horse. Hamilton took the reins from Smith and told him,

“You and the messenger boys shall stay between the first and second columns while we march. Stay alert to any calls for ‘Messengers forward’. If you hear that, come seek me at once. Keep yourselves safe, for you may be vital to our victory.” Smith responded with a salute and quickly led the boys away as Hamilton mounted his horse and moved to the front of the first column of men.

Austin, Charlie, and Private Smith took their positions between the first and second columns of soldiers on the road and within a few minutes, they heard the command Forward, march. With that, all of the soldiers began moving at once, and the great mass of men moved forward along the snow-covered road. The men moved slowly but steadily, staying quiet for the most part but occasionally the boys could hear muffled conversations between soldiers. The men marched with their rifles slung over their shoulders, content to keep their bodies warm through movement. Charlie looked up at the sky and saw the full moon directly overhead. He guessed that it was around midnight.

“I wonder how long it will take to march nine miles,” he wondered out loud to Austin.

“I don’t know,” Austin replied, “ but probably a few hours. I bet we make it before morning. That would be the best time for a sneak attack.” The boys marched on, taking in the sights and sounds. They could see Captain Hamilton at the front of the first column of men on his white horse. He looked majestic in his Officer’s uniform on the beautiful horse in the light of the full moon.

After several hours of marching, the boys were becoming exhausted. They weren’t used to this kind of physical activity or staying up all night long. Private Smith must have seen their exhaustion because he said to them,

“Not much further, boys. Less than an hour remaining, I’d say.”

Sure enough, after less than an hour more of marching, the boys saw Hamilton direct the column off the main road and to the left, in the direction of a low hill. As the columns of marching men veered to the left, the boys could see the beginning of daylight forming in the eastern sky.

Suddenly, Charlie looked at Austin with a look of terror on his face. Austin looked around to find the source of Charlie’s fear, but couldn’t find anything.

“What is it?” Austin asked, confused.

“Where’s your satchel?” Charlie asked urgently.

“The book!” Austin looked everywhere around him frantically but knew immediately that it was hopeless. He hadn’t had the satchel with him since they left the tent. The book was gone.

Title: First Person History

Genre: Middle-Grade Historical Fiction

Age Range: 8-12

Word Count: will be about 20-25,000 when complete

Author: Adam Zimmerman

My project is a good fit because I want to educate children about history as well as entertain them.

Synopsis: Two best friends find a mysterious book in a strange locker at school. The book transports them to whatever historical event the book is opened to. The boys travel to 1776 and participate in Washington's crossing of the Delaware River and the Battle of Trenton. On their dangerous adventure, they meet many famous figures such as Henry Knox, Alexander Hamilton, and even Washington himself.

Target Audience: Middle grade readers, age 8-12ish, students interested in history.

Author Biography: Adam Zimmerman is a freelance writer and emerging author. He served seventeen years in the U.S. Army before beginning his writing career. He is a graduate of the University of North Texas with a B.A. in History. He is married to Danielle and they have twin boys, Austin and Adam, Jr (AJ). They live in Frisco, Texas.

Austin always has the same dream. It’s the bottom of the ninth. Two outs. A runner on first base and his team down by one run. Austin knocks the donut off his bat and walks confidently to the plate. His dad had shown him a video on YouTube of a baseball player named Kirk Gibson hitting a walk-off home run to win a World Series game. That was his dream. This was his Kirk Gibson moment.

In his dream, Austin stares the pitcher down from across the green grass and brown dirt of the infield. The pitcher has a smirk on his face, but Austin knows he’s scared. One mistake and the game is over. Austin taps his bat on the plate. First the outside corner, then the inside corner. He adjusts the helmet on his head. He takes a couple of practice swings. His pre-pitch routine is second nature to him, he doesn’t even think about it. He’s thinking about the pitcher. What’s he going to throw? He has a good fastball, but he knows I’m a good fastball hitter. His curveball isn’t too bad either, but he can’t command it as well as his fastball. Austin decides to sit “dead red”, meaning he will only swing at fastballs. Lay off any curveballs the pitcher might throw.

The pitcher gets his sign from the catcher, checks on the runner at first base then comes to the set position. Austin digs his back foot into the dirt, tightens his grip on his bat, and leans into the plate. The pitcher lets fly a fastball, headed straight for Austin’s head. In the space of about half a second, Austin ducks his head out of the way and his body hits the ground in a dusty heap. Austin slowly gets back up to his feet, his eyes locked on the pitcher. He refuses to dust himself off. Stepping back into the batter’s box, Austin again digs his back foot into the dirt. The pitcher has a smile on his face now. He thinks he’s in control of the at-bat now, but he’s wrong.

Another sign from the catcher, another check of the runner. The pitcher comes to the set position again. He lets his pitch fly. Austin immediately recognizes that it’s slower than the last pitch: Curveball. He doesn’t swing and watches the pitch drop perfectly into the catcher's mitt in the center of the strike zone. Behind him, the umpire yells strike. Austin had almost forgotten he was back there. The count is 1-1 now. Austin knows that the curveball was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to be right down the middle, but it was. An easy home run if he would have swung. There’s no way the pitcher will throw that pitch again. Austin knows what pitch is coming next.

For the third time, he digs into the batter’s box. Austin is feeling supremely confident. He goes through his pre-pitch routine, tapping the plate and fixing his helmet. The pitcher gets his sign and comes set. It feels like the entire stadium is holding its collective breath. Both men stare at each other, locked in battle. The pitcher is frozen on the mound. He holds his set position for what feels like an eternity, making Austin wait. Then, just before he lifts his foot to begin his pitch, Austin winks at him.

The pitch is a fastball. The wink distracted the pitcher enough that he sent his fastball right down the middle of the strike zone but this time, Austin was ready. Austin twists his body and unleashes a massive swing, connecting with the ball directly over the plate. The ball explodes off his bat and goes soaring like an eagle over the infield, over the outfield, and finally over the outfield fence for a home run.

Austin watches the ball fly for a few moments, admiring the result of his effort. He jogs confidently around the bases, pumping his fist in the Kirk Gibson manner. As he rounds third base and high-fives his coach, he sees his teammates pouring out of the dugout to meet him at home plate. His teammates are jumping and screaming before he even touches home. They mob him after he crosses the plate, a frenzy of emotion. Three or four of them manage to lift Austin up onto their shoulders. He hears the crowd and his teammates chanting his name as he’s carried off the field a hero. Austin! Austin! Austin!

“…Austin, Austin, Austin,” he slowly realizes that it’s his mother’s voice. “Wake up, dear. You’ve got a baseball game today.”

As they hiked through the secluded mountain forest, the longtime friends reflected on some of their favorite memories from the past.

“Remember that time Smitty drank so many beers that he passed out in Mrs. Johnson’s flower bed?”

“Oh man, she was pissed.”

As the men rounded a bend and entered a small clearing in the forest, they heard what sounded like an animal running through the woods. They heard the snow crushed beneath heavy, rapid footfalls and branches scraping as a large body moved quickly through the underbrush.

“What is that? You think it’s a deer?” Daniel questioned his friend, his senses on full alert.

“Sounds bigger. Maybe a bear,” Jim responded. This was not the response that Daniel was hoping for.

The men could tell that the sound was coming toward them, but the forest was thick, and they still couldn’t see the source of the sound. Suddenly, a man crashed through the underbrush, running full speed toward them. Their eyes locked onto his and the man stopped in his tracks.

“Help,” the man said, out of breath. “You’ve got to help me. He’s right behind me.” His face held a frantic, pleading look.

“Who’s chasing you?” Asked Daniel.

“Or what,” added Jim.

When the man had stopped running, the forest had become eerily quiet. No bird or animal dared to make a sound and disturb the silence. Just as the man opened his mouth to answer the question, a gunshot rang out like an explosion, shattering the stillness around them. The frantic look on the man’s face turned instantly to fear. He clutched both hands to his chest and looked down as blood started to ooze from between his fingers. When he looked back up at the two men, his face was ghost-white, and his eyes were distant. He fell forward to his knees, then to the snowy ground, and once again everything was quiet around them.

“What. The. Fuck.” That was all that Jim could manage to say. He looked at Daniel, but Daniel hadn’t taken his eyes off the dead man in front of them in the blood-stained snow. “Holy shit. Holy shit. What the fuck, man? He’s dead.”

Daniel finally looked at Jim, as if he could provide some explanation for what just happened. Then, at the same time, the two men heard soft footsteps coming toward them from the same direction the man was just running. These steps weren’t rushed. They were slow and deliberate; a hunter tracking its prey.

The men exchanged a fearful glance when they realized what the sound was. Before they could react, they saw the underbrush begin to move and a man walk slowly into the small clearing where they stood. He was a tall man, with grizzled features. He had a short, dark beard and dark eyes. He looked more like a cowboy than a hunter, with jeans and boots and a long black duster jacket that was worn open. The rifle in his hands still had a trail of gray smoke coming from the barrel.

Daniel was the first to react to the sight of the mysterious man.

“Wait, wait, wait, just hold on a minute. We didn’t see anything. We don’t know you and we don’t know this guy,” he said, his hands held out in front of him in a pleading motion.

The mysterious man said nothing for a long time, just stared at the two strangers. Finally, he said,

“This here man raped my 10-year-old daughter. ’Round these parts, we don’t wait for a judge to try a man. A man pays for what he done. Either ’a you think I was wrong?”

“No,” they said in unison.

He stared at them for another long pause.

“You got a decision to make. You walk back the way you came and forget you ever been here, or you fill a hole with this piece of shit here.”

Daniel and Jim took a quick glance at each other. Without a word, they began slowly walking backward, not taking their eyes off the mysterious man with the rifle. He never blinked as he watched them go. When they reached the edge of the forest behind them, they turned and ran as fast as they could and never looked back.