Examples of Students' Work - Brag Sheet

The Boston Massacre

Mary Goldman, a patriotic resident of Boston, was appalled by the Townshend Acts along with numerous others. Being just a child, she did not fully understand the situation. The thing she did understand though, was that her father was not bringing home any more money. Mary participated in every protest with her father that she could. She wanted the British gone.

On the other hand, James Howard was a loyalist and actually in the British army. He hated the way people called him names like bloody back and ran away from him in the street. One of his neighbors even moved away because James was a loyalist. He lived alone and desperately needed a friend, someone to talk to, to complain to.

What started out as a beautiful day for Mary Goldman, would soon turn into the worst nightmare of her life. A narrow road with many inhabitants, Glare Drive, sat in the center of Boston. A small townhouse with a worn wooden door on rusty hinges was at the very end of this road. Mary sat on her front steps, her foot started to tap and a loud sigh exhaled from her lungs, “when will father arrive home?” she thought. On any other day she wouldn’t have waited this long, but today her father promised to take her to a protest on the Townshend Acts. How could she resist such an offer? On the other side of town James was finishing up his lunch and grabbing his gear. Dread and regret filled him as he pondered on the thought of struggling with the patriots yet again. All he wanted was the chance to return to England. Little did he know that that chance might just happen later in the day.

“Father!” Mary’s high-pitched squeal echoed through the alley with excitement as her father rounded the last block to her house. He picked her up and swung her around in circles while the laughter of a child filled the air. Once down on the ground she said, “ Remember that you promised to take me to a protest today.” He replied, “ How could I not?” Hand in hand they walked down the road to where the protest would be held. A few blocks away James marched with his troop. Light filtered through the cracks in the alleyway. Muck sat on the edges of the dark road. Not a whisper was heard. Bam, bam, bam, the sound of boots hit the cobblestone road. “Attention, single file line behind me,” projected the commander of James Howard’s troop. Peering off in the distance James could already see a large group of protesters forming where they were about to arrive. A glare spread across his face as he thought of their leader, Crispus Attucks. The one thought raced through his mind, “Not another protest.”

As Mary and her father approached the scene, people swarmed around each other. Mary could not see over the numerous tall men, so her father put her up onto his shoulders to be taller than the rest. People shouted and held signs that read, “NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION!” The soldiers were approaching fast. In about a minute’s time they would be straight in front of the crowd. About a half-mile ahead, the soldiers marched on. Eventually they reached to the crowd. People shouted and screamed. A churning rose from deep inside James’s gut. Dirty snowballs whizzed through the air as far as the eye could see. A scream ringed through the air and James saw a man beating one of the soldiers with a club. More people advanced, gunshots fired. James’s finger brought the brown musket trigger back, but right before he did, his eyes caught the face of a terrified little girl on her father’s shoulders in the back of the crowd. Mary heard the gunshots and instinctively her head shot down with her hands over it in a defensive position. When she lifted her head, all the smoke had cleared and five figures lay on the ground lifeless and not moving. Mary screamed and nearly fainted. Being an agile man, her father turned and caught her. Running away with Mary in his arms, he looked back to see the soldiers marching away.