Meeting Massachusetts

(The Taste of Freedom)

It hurt.

His nose was broken and blood would occasionally leak down his face. His right eye was blackened and swollen shut. His bottom lip cracked. A thick scab had grown to stop the bleeding but every time he opened his mouth he risked reopening it. He would live, he was sure of that, but it still hurt.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to hurt like this. If he were a normal child these injuries wouldn't have appeared on their own.

Before power had always flowed off the sea and into his veins. He had always been strong and healthy. Normally he would be on the docks. Darting between the workers, chasing sea gulls, climbing on crated full of goods straight from the other colonies and even England himself. everything came into his port: spices, fabrics, and tea.

Tea, he wished he could blame this pain on something as simple as tea. But he knew what, no who caused this hurt. Britain.

Tears began to seep out of his injured eye. "Damn it," the little boy spat. He thoughtlessly swiped his face and hissed in pain. Slowly he allowed himself to slip down his small alley's dirty wall. Holding his knees to his chest he tired to clean his face of the tears more carefully.

This was all Britain's fault. That tyrant couldn't handle a bit of criticism and snowballs. He really did deserve to have someone tell him what was what. But he would just have that brave soul executed.

The child gritted his teeth and fought to control his breathing.

He wished that someone would stop Britain. He wanted someone to protest his people. He wanted to be free to live his life as he wanted without the threat of that tyrant looming over his shoulder.

A shadow covered him. Disoriented from being knocked out of his thoughts he blinked in confusion and quickly looked up. Before him stood a young man. He was tall blonde, and handsome, but not yet old enough to be a man. Dressed in expensive clothes he stood out. Was this some uppity noble? Excellent he was hoping that someone heartless enough would come to further hurt him.

He glared up at the tall figure above him. "What do you want? Leave me alone," he growled.

The man didn't move. So the boy attempted to dart around him to escape.

"Hold on," the young man grabbed his arm. "I don't mean you any harm."

The boy pushed his feet against the ground hoping to jerk free but the man was too strong. Having no other choice the boy chose to once again glare up at him.

His eyes were as blue, the boy noted in the back of his mind. "Do you have any idea who I am," the little colony hissed.

The man squinted his his eyes slightly as if he was really making sure that he had the right person. He bit his lower lip and bluntly asked, "You're Massachusetts, aren't you?"

Massachusetts stared at the man before him. How could he possibly know that he was a personification, let alone which one of the colonies he was. His eyes scanned the man again. He must be one of England's men. "Who are you? What do you want with me? Let me go." The man didn't let him go. The little colony felt compelled to scream and struggle but one look in the man's eyes stopped him.

The mysterious man slowly reached towards the colonies face. His hand hovered above Massachusetts's injured eye. "This is from the massacre," he whispered to himself.

"Yes," Massachusetts answered, even though he knew it wasn't a question.

"This shouldn't have happened," he murmured.

The young man frowned slightly and his shoulders were slightly slumped. In this dark and dirty little alleyway it looked as if he had just received terrible news. Almost as if he had just lost a terribly close friend. The look didn't suit him.

"Come with me."

"What," Massachusetts squawked. Did this madman actually say that or had he misheard? The voices of the dockworkers had been trickling in and there was always the chance that his brain had been addled. Still it was better to make himself look like a fool rather than to wake up on the high seas. "How can you expect me to come with you. I don't even know who you are."

"Huh, oh I'm America." America held out his hand and grinned at Massachusetts.

America, well that explained somethings. Massachusetts hadn't thought there would be a personification of all the colonies as one. He had just assumed that all the other colonies were like him. Why was America personified? The younger colony frowned slightly. America probably had more in common with with England than he did with the individual colonies.

That sparked a an idea in Mass's head, a wonderfully traitorous idea.

If each colony was personified individually there was no need for someone to represent them as one. Unless they were to become more than just colonies. Unless they became their own country.

With him he was knowing so Massachusetts began to smile. If they were their own country they wouldn't be under Britain's rule. They could govern as they pleased. He wouldn't have to care for his people on his own because someone would be there to protect them, protect him.

Massachusetts softly settled his hand into the larger one. A silence fell between the two colonies as America's smile gleamed under the few rays that made their way into the alley. A seagull cried out and Massachusetts let out a sudden shriek of laughter. All at once he squeezed America's hand and drag him out. Their feet scattering stones as the ran along the streets.

If America had bothered to ask where they were going Massachusetts wouldn't have had an answer. He just wanted to run wild, to taste the coming freedom on the salty air. And who better to run with than the one who would give it to him?

Notes:

Massachusetts early rebellious streak:

The Boston Massacre, called the Incident on King Street by the British, happened on March 5, 1770.

The incident was portrayed by colonist newspapers as the British firing in formation at the colonists. It was much more chaotic than that.

Three people were killed during the Massacre. Two more later died because of their injuries.

Because of the colonies information system all the colonies knew about the Massacre before word had reached England.

The Boston Tea Party, where the Sons of Liberty threw tea into the Boston Bay, happened on December 16, 1773. Later on March 7, 1774 some citizens of Boston repeated it. Together they cost the British an estimated $3 million in modern money.

It wasn't unheard of for people to be kidnapped and put to work work on a ship or to be sold into slavery in the past. (On second thought similar things still happen today so be careful.)

AN :

There are three things I have to say about this. One, America realizes that he'll have to confront Britain in this one shot. Two, this wouldn't have gotten done today if it wasn't so darn hot and humid outside (also too hot to reread this a million times looking for mistakes). Three, half way through writing this I wanted to give Mass a hug. Three quarters of the way through I realized he was acting a bit like Lovi and then I started to fangirl.

Have a Happy memorial Day Americans.

Replies:

That'll come later, I'm focusing on the Revolution now. I did know that. (Civil War Reinactor) I also think it's important to note that northern slaves weren't freed because the Union was afraid Maryland, Missouri, and Kentucky would leave. Thank you.