| War and History Flash Fiction posted August 15, 2020 |
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July 4, 1776
I Cracked the Liberty Bell
by RodG
I knelt in the broom closet, peeping at the three most famous men in the Colonies as each signed a long piece of parchment lying on a table.
First to sign was the tallest and youngest, Thomas Jefferson, a delegate from Virginia. The quill slowly moved across the paper, its holder's hand unsteady, his eyes seemingly brimming with tears. When he finished, he looked up with a lopsided grin.
"I can't believe it's done," he said.
John Adams, a middle-aged gentleman who was short and stocky, used the same quill to sign next. His hand worked quickly. Smiling, he handed the quill to Ben Franklin, the oldest of the trio.
Mr. Franklin adjusted his double-spectacles which perched on the bridge of his nose, then peered closely at the document. His hand moved purposefully. When he was done, the rest of the delegates applauded.
Mr. Franklin looked around, a tight smile on his round face. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice, the words I will always remember:
"This Declaration announces to the world our independence, gentlemen. We are no longer British colonies, but a free nation. The United States of America!"
The room exploded in cheers and whistles. Then back slaps and huzzahs!
"It's Independence Day!" someone yelled.
"Let all Philadelphia know!" shouted another delegate. "Someone . . . ring the bell!"
Suddenly Mr. Franklin's head was in the closet. Grinning, he said, "Boy, would you like to let the city know what we have done and ring the bell?" Then he squeezed my right arm.
"Yes, you're strong enough. Ring it till that arm falls off."
I was only thirteen, but built solid because of my work as a stable hand. Mr. Franklin knew I took care of these men's horses when I wasn't sneaking into the Hall to hear their speeches.
"Yes, sir," I yelped and tore upstairs to the steeple where the big iron bell hung.
I grabbed a long rope looped around the clapper and pulled.
A resounding clangor like none I'd ever heard before sang out again . . . and again . . . and again.
My piece of history writing prompt entry
I knelt in the broom closet, peeping at the three most famous men in the Colonies as each signed a long piece of parchment lying on a table.
First to sign was the tallest and youngest, Thomas Jefferson, a delegate from Virginia. The quill slowly moved across the paper, its holder's hand unsteady, his eyes seemingly brimming with tears. When he finished, he looked up with a lopsided grin.
"I can't believe it's done," he said.
John Adams, a middle-aged gentleman who was short and stocky, used the same quill to sign next. His hand worked quickly. Smiling, he handed the quill to Ben Franklin, the oldest of the trio.
Mr. Franklin adjusted his double-spectacles which perched on the bridge of his nose, then peered closely at the document. His hand moved purposefully. When he was done, the rest of the delegates applauded.
Mr. Franklin looked around, a tight smile on his round face. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice, the words I will always remember:
"This Declaration announces to the world our independence, gentlemen. We are no longer British colonies, but a free nation. The United States of America!"
The room exploded in cheers and whistles. Then back slaps and huzzahs!
"It's Independence Day!" someone yelled.
"Let all Philadelphia know!" shouted another delegate. "Someone . . . ring the bell!"
Suddenly Mr. Franklin's head was in the closet. Grinning, he said, "Boy, would you like to let the city know what we have done and ring the bell?" Then he squeezed my right arm.
"Yes, you're strong enough. Ring it till that arm falls off."
I was only thirteen, but built solid because of my work as a stable hand. Mr. Franklin knew I took care of these men's horses when I wasn't sneaking into the Hall to hear their speeches.
"Yes, sir," I yelped and tore upstairs to the steeple where the big iron bell hung.
I grabbed a long rope looped around the clapper and pulled.
A resounding clangor like none I'd ever heard before sang out again . . . and again . . . and again.
First to sign was the tallest and youngest, Thomas Jefferson, a delegate from Virginia. The quill slowly moved across the paper, its holder's hand unsteady, his eyes seemingly brimming with tears. When he finished, he looked up with a lopsided grin.
"I can't believe it's done," he said.
John Adams, a middle-aged gentleman who was short and stocky, used the same quill to sign next. His hand worked quickly. Smiling, he handed the quill to Ben Franklin, the oldest of the trio.
Mr. Franklin adjusted his double-spectacles which perched on the bridge of his nose, then peered closely at the document. His hand moved purposefully. When he was done, the rest of the delegates applauded.
Mr. Franklin looked around, a tight smile on his round face. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice, the words I will always remember:
"This Declaration announces to the world our independence, gentlemen. We are no longer British colonies, but a free nation. The United States of America!"
The room exploded in cheers and whistles. Then back slaps and huzzahs!
"It's Independence Day!" someone yelled.
"Let all Philadelphia know!" shouted another delegate. "Someone . . . ring the bell!"
Suddenly Mr. Franklin's head was in the closet. Grinning, he said, "Boy, would you like to let the city know what we have done and ring the bell?" Then he squeezed my right arm.
"Yes, you're strong enough. Ring it till that arm falls off."
I was only thirteen, but built solid because of my work as a stable hand. Mr. Franklin knew I took care of these men's horses when I wasn't sneaking into the Hall to hear their speeches.
"Yes, sir," I yelped and tore upstairs to the steeple where the big iron bell hung.
I grabbed a long rope looped around the clapper and pulled.
A resounding clangor like none I'd ever heard before sang out again . . . and again . . . and again.
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction ( 350 words title not included ) about the historical event you wish you had lived through. What would it have been like, do you think? Share your impressions in your flash fiction. |
Image is courtesy of Google
WORD COUNT: 346 Apple Pages
Whether they rang that bell July 4th or July 8th is debated. And there is no real documentation of when it was actually cracked.
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and 2 member cents. WORD COUNT: 346 Apple Pages
Whether they rang that bell July 4th or July 8th is debated. And there is no real documentation of when it was actually cracked.
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