A teen living in the Civil War times finds war isn't the only twisted thing in her life.
| Life in the Civil War
By : Rae Prater
My house, like the Civil War, was now divided into three. The ones with me,the ones against me, and our borders. My team, or the ones with me, were my mother, my brother, Simon, and my sister, Hazel. Against me were my father, my youngest brother, Sheldon,and the middle child, Lucy. Again like the Civil War, there were our border states: my oldest sister, Ruth, her husband, John, and my uncle, (who came to live with us when the war started) Fredrick. You may ask why we were divided. Well, when the war started, my father, Sheldon, and Lucy believed that we should study the Bible like our studies in school. Now, I do believe in the Lord and his almighty word, but I don't intend to change my ways for a man who I can't even see. When those three made up their mind to get everyone will study up on their Lord's word, I refused to join in their games. My mother, Simon, and Hazel believed that I should not be forced to study something that I did not intend to follow for the rest of my life. Of course the three against me disagreed. When all of this mess started, Ruth, John, and Uncle Fredrick decided not to take sides; which was probably for the best. We lived in hard times, no one wants to get kicked out; especially Ruth and John, with their baby just one month away. But when we split into three, some became more attached to others, where they would do anything to protect them, to keep them safe. That's where my trouble began.
"I am so dang tired of carrying this baby!" Ruth complained. "Language, Ruthie," my mother scolded her. "It'll all be over in less than a month. Besides, it was your choice," I added with a giggle. "Watch your mouth, Scarlett." My mother is so strict. Always watch the language. Get a beatin' when you don't listen. I am nearly 15. Why get a beatin' at this age? "OH!!!" Ruth called out roughly. She was clutching her stomach tightly, and she was screechin' as loud as nails on the school house's chalk board. We looked down to our light brown wood floors to see a puddle of water. "John! John!" My mother yelled frantically. Ruth's pretty aburn hair was stickin' to her fore-head from the sweat. John came runnin' into the kitchen. He was about to ask what the matter was, and he then spotted Ruth panting on the floor. This isn’t right! It’s too early!” Ruth screamed from the floor. “Honey, it’s only a month.” My mother could be the best at comforting.