When Angels Cry Blood.
In Our Dreams We Can Be Compete Again
Pretty short, sorry.
I'm annoyed at the fact that I'm allergic to Midol now and Midol is the only thing keeping me alive at the moment...
Frank’s POV
“Yeah, that damn Abe is afraid to make a move. I mean, come on, you’re with us or you’re against us. His entire country wants to abolish slavery yet he won’t do shit to stop it. I bet he secretly owns a plantation full of slaves,” I heard Mr. Way bellowing from the huge, white porch to the neighbors, “We’re goin’ to crush ‘em in this here War. Crush them. They may have more people but they ain’t organized or even a team.”
“Agreed.” They all nodded in unison. I rolled my eyes as I continued to fill my basket with cotton. Hunger seemed to take over my body by that point. Are they ever going to give us lunch? I’m starving.
“Not only that, but they won’t start this goddamn War. I’m figuring that we need to make the first move. We have a legit reason too; I know for a fact that they’re been eyeing Fort Sumter.”
All this talk of War lately has been driving me up a wall. I didn’t know there was a War going on or about to happen. And you would think they would tell you something important like that?
I saw Gerard around 3-ish. He was walking home from school I assumed because of the obscene amount of books he held in his hand. He smiled contently and waved to a group of kids dressed up in navy blue suits with red and black striped ties. I looked down at my torn shirt and faded blue jeans and panicked slightly. Did Gerard only liked well-dressed kids? He walked past me and smiled again and mouthed hello. I returned them both happily.
“Gerard!” Mr. Way was yelling now, “Stop goofing around and get in here,” He lowered his tone slightly, “We have guests.” He nodded towards the two rather large gentlemen he was speaking too earlier. Each of them, including Mr. Way, had cigars dangling from their mouths or they we’re chewing tobacco. Tobacco was a plentiful crop here apparently.
“Coming, Dad” He put a sarcastic emphasis on Dad.
Just seeing his smile brought an extra few ounces of hope into my day. I continued to work until sundown when Mr. Way finally gave us some food. My stomach was grumbling and aching and bitching since about 2. It wasn’t so bad this time, the food I mean, and I assumed that as time passed I’d eventually get used to everything. I can’t expect everything to be perfect on my second day here. I craned my neck slightly and managed to catch a glimpse of Gerard who was yelling and had tears streaming down his pale face. On the bright side, they had a fabulous kitchen…
I'm annoyed at the fact that I'm allergic to Midol now and Midol is the only thing keeping me alive at the moment...
Frank’s POV
“Yeah, that damn Abe is afraid to make a move. I mean, come on, you’re with us or you’re against us. His entire country wants to abolish slavery yet he won’t do shit to stop it. I bet he secretly owns a plantation full of slaves,” I heard Mr. Way bellowing from the huge, white porch to the neighbors, “We’re goin’ to crush ‘em in this here War. Crush them. They may have more people but they ain’t organized or even a team.”
“Agreed.” They all nodded in unison. I rolled my eyes as I continued to fill my basket with cotton. Hunger seemed to take over my body by that point. Are they ever going to give us lunch? I’m starving.
“Not only that, but they won’t start this goddamn War. I’m figuring that we need to make the first move. We have a legit reason too; I know for a fact that they’re been eyeing Fort Sumter.”
All this talk of War lately has been driving me up a wall. I didn’t know there was a War going on or about to happen. And you would think they would tell you something important like that?
I saw Gerard around 3-ish. He was walking home from school I assumed because of the obscene amount of books he held in his hand. He smiled contently and waved to a group of kids dressed up in navy blue suits with red and black striped ties. I looked down at my torn shirt and faded blue jeans and panicked slightly. Did Gerard only liked well-dressed kids? He walked past me and smiled again and mouthed hello. I returned them both happily.
“Gerard!” Mr. Way was yelling now, “Stop goofing around and get in here,” He lowered his tone slightly, “We have guests.” He nodded towards the two rather large gentlemen he was speaking too earlier. Each of them, including Mr. Way, had cigars dangling from their mouths or they we’re chewing tobacco. Tobacco was a plentiful crop here apparently.
“Coming, Dad” He put a sarcastic emphasis on Dad.
Just seeing his smile brought an extra few ounces of hope into my day. I continued to work until sundown when Mr. Way finally gave us some food. My stomach was grumbling and aching and bitching since about 2. It wasn’t so bad this time, the food I mean, and I assumed that as time passed I’d eventually get used to everything. I can’t expect everything to be perfect on my second day here. I craned my neck slightly and managed to catch a glimpse of Gerard who was yelling and had tears streaming down his pale face. On the bright side, they had a fabulous kitchen…