The Colonies: A Fictional Narrative

The distant chanting of the protesters disturbed my sleep. I sighed deeply, then got out

of my bed. The night air was cold on my now exposed skin. The clock on the wall read 11

pm. Oh ,why do they desire to protest at this exact hour? I pulled the covers back over myself

and tried to return to sleep. Soon after I came to the realization that sleep was a hopeless

thing, with all of that noise. I lit another candle to carry with me downstairs, and opened up my

chamber door. The flickering, uneven candlelight was the only thing lighting my way down the

dark stairwell, and I almost tripped several times trying to get down

I walked down the hall and into the drawing room.

“Oh, Anne” a voice called.

I jumped. It

took me a moment to recognize the familiar softness of my mother's voice.

“ It’s the protestors that woke you, is it not?”

I paused “ It was, They really ought to quiet down out there , especially at this time of night. I'd

say they’ve woken the entire town by now”

the fiery candlelight reflected off of her eyes, giving them a soft, warm appearance.

“ It strikes me as…...odd that they’re so aggravated over such a trivial tax” she stated

“i guess……” I trailed off. She smiled at me.

“ I’ll get a lamp lit, and the maid is making tea. Do sit down. It will be

much better to wait for those protesters to quiet down with company” I nodded and sat down

next to her. We waited in silence for a bit, the sound of the protesters chants still audible.

“ So what is it that is angering them so?” I said, in hopes of breaking the silence between us.

“ Oh, It's just the stamp act, a tax imposed by the british. It's a tax on anything made of paper.

Even newspapers and playing cards now require stamps. They’re angry because that tax was

issued without their representation in parliament.” her words puzzled me.

“ But why would Britain not represent the colonies in parliament?” I questioned. It didn't make

sense. As colonial citizens, we too should be represented, just like the citizens back in England

. The whole ordeal seemed ridiculous to me. It would not be hard to represent the colonies in

parliament, no, it wouldn't.

Parliament could at the least allow the Colonies to send

representatives. That alone would satisfy many of the colonists. And hopefully prevent any

further conflicts such as this from occurring.

" I don't understand it...Would it kill them to at least allow The Colonies send a representative?

Though they're letting this go on." I paused " you know, I almost agree with those protesters

now, no matter how much they vex me" I said

" Well I don't think it's quite that simple, darling. Even if they were to send a Representative to

Parliament, the King is still in control of the colonies. And with a king as stupid as he is, the

peace wouldn't last long. Britain has spent a large amount of money, in previous wars and

paying for their army. They have to have some sort of way to pay their debts, don't they? And

do not forget that England has to pay for the protection of the American Frontier. So, they

impose taxes on the colonies. However, this time the taxes are to raise a profit, not to assist in

the regulation of commerce in the colonies. Although, they don't seem to have the time to ask

the colonies for a say in the matter, none at all. And that's why the people are so

offended"

I glanced down at the Persian rug, observing each little pattern in the thread, thinking. This

situation didn't seem like a matter that would be easily solved.

If the parliament repeals the tax,

then the people will be satisfied, but if Britain issues a similar tax, history will repeat itself,

upsetting the short tempers of the colonists. If Britain represents the colonies in parliament,

then the people will be satisfied, however with the monarchy still in power, everything will be

ruined, destroyed, and it will go on and on until something is done.

" So, what are they doing out there? You know, about the stamp act, what exactly are they doing

to stop it?" I asked curiously

" Some are just protesting verbally, others take a more.... violent approach"

The maid had arrived with the tea, handing a cup to my mother and I. She and I thanked her,

and I began to sip at my cup. It was hot, and it was the strong bitter kind which my

mother fancied.. I plucked two sugar cubes off of the saucer and dropped them into it,

in an unsuccessful attempt to make it taste sweet.

"As I was saying, some protesters have taken to acting drastically to try to get the stamp act

repealed. There have been riots, destruction of buildings, fires, and even some have tarred and

feathered the stamp collectors"

I looked at her in

shock

"Tarring and feathering! Have they gone mad? They're just innocent stamp collectors, they have

done nothing wrong!" I replied

" I'm afraid so. But these kinds of things do have an effect, it lets the parliament know what

they've done wrong. And that's what they want, to show them exactly how angry they are." She

said.

The distant cries and chants had quieted down enough that I might be able to sleep. It was late

at night, and the warm tea and the soft couch only made me desire sleep more. I rubbed my

eyes. "Okay, I think I'll return to my chamber to sleep. It's too late to be awake" I said

"Well then, goodnight" she said

"Goodnight" I replied. I got up off of the couch and walked up the stairwell, the flickering,

uneven candle being the only thing to light my way.