It was a dark and rainy night in a small town in South Carolina in 1775. It was the worst storm that anyone could remember. The rain was falling from the clouds in thick sheets that felt like someone was slapping you when it hit your face. Lightning streaked across the sky in a crawling motion, almost as if it had somewhere to go. Thunder boomed in the distance, so loud that the panes of the glass that served as windows to the houses shook.
Suddenly, lightning struck the ground, and, when the smoke and mud cleared, there was a girl lying there. Had anyone been around, or looking out the window, they would have thought the girl weird, and not just because she materialized out of thin air. If one observed the girl, they would notice she had on some strange clothes, indeed.
This girl had on some indecently tight breeches, made out of a material that kind of looked like blue cotton. She also had on an immodest white shirt that stated, for anyone who could read, "This is my, you're not getting lucky, shirt". The girl's hair was around her in a mass of darkness. It was impossible to tell if it was straight or curly or what color it was because it was soaking wet.
Had anyone been watching, they would have noticed her eyes start to move. She was waking up! Soon, she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair, then got her feet under her and stood in one swift motion. She turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings quickly and then mumbled, "Where the hell am I?"
The girl turned again, more slowly this time, and took in more details. There were some woods one way and she could hear the ocean from somewhere behind her. She was obviously in the middle of a small town, full of weird looking houses and buildings around her, and that was really all she could see.
She turned and walked towards the woods, thinking that under the trees would be the driest place right now. She walked at a moderate pace, her white shoes slipping in the mud, turning a mucky brown color. When she got to the woods, she looked around for a tree with a lot of low branches so that it would be easier to climb. She was tired and needed a place to sleep.
When she finally found a tree with a lot of leaves that was climbable, she got up in it. She felt like she had tried about a million and a half positions to get comfortable in. She finally found a position that didn't hurt her back, head, or shoulders what felt like a few hours later and fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning she woke up with the sun shining in her eyes. "Ugh… It's too early to get up… Why the hell is my bed so hard?" she asked herself out loud.
"I say, do you talk to yourself all the time, young lady, or just today? And why are you in a tree?"
The girl screeched and jumped about a mile high when she heard the man's voice which, promptly, made her fall out of the tree with a splat. The girl squinted up at the man, a military officer of some sort, going by the way he was dressed and said, "Only on mornings I sleep in trees… Who are you?"
A scowl crossed the man's face as he replied, "I could ask you the same question."
"I asked first."
"And? I am the ranking officer. Tell. Me. Your. Name." he gritted out.
"Fine, it's Christine Washington. Now, what's your name?" She asked sweetly.
"Col. William Tavington of the Green Dragoons. Washington, you say? Come with me, young lady." The Col. all but ordered, reaching down and hauling the girl up by the arm.
"Oww. That hurts. Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me?"
"That is privileged information. Think about it though. You are no doubt related to that traitor George Washington. We will use you as bait. Come with me."
"George Washington? But… but… he's been dead for like 200 years. Aren't you taking this reenactment a little far?"
"Reenactment? Young lady, I don't know what kind of world you are living in, but this is 1776. George Washington is the leader of the colonials and I assure you, he is not dead."