“History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.”
We have done some recent work on the area of writing with voice. After researching and collecting evidence about the unhappy struggles of the early settlers of Jamestown, Virginia, we decided to rewrite a few significant historic events from a unique (and in some cases, fictionalized) perspective so as to get some practice in writing with voice. The following are some examples of how these historical events may have actually played out. 😉
The First Thanksgiving
I was minding my own business when all of a sudden, “we are here.” It all happened at Plymouth rock, and some ship called Mayflower. I almost gobbled myself! So, these people that got off the ship were wearing fancy hats with buckles. Well, they were walking, so I followed. They were rich and snobby and couldn’t do anything with their hands, like hunting. All of a sudden, a boy comes up to me and yells “boo turkey.” We played for awhile, and I said “I’m tired.” Before he could scream, I covered his mouth with my feathers. “I’m gonna tell everyone I found a talking turkey!” said the boy. “No, you can’t. This is a secret, got it?” I said. “Understood,” he said sadly.
So, the next day, my friend explained to me that they were walking and found Indians! So me, the smart turkey, told him that he should ask the Indians for help on stuff like hunting. They ended up getting along. The Indians taught them how to grow corn and use wild plants as medicine.
Since they were getting along so well, someone had the idea to have a feast, and they wanted turkey! The boy told me to run, so I did. There was good news and bad news. The bad news was they ate my friend Charlie. Why him, they should of took me!!! The good news was that they had such a good time, they made it a tradition. The fancy people would help the Indians find food, and they would give thanks for the help they had.
Well, I better run. It’s close to Thanksgiving, and they need turkey. “There’s one!” Ahhhh!
Sir Francis Drake’s Vest
This story that I wrote is about the amazing English hero Sir Francis Drake. Blah blah blah. He was wonderful, but what everyone should know is that he was a pathetic wimp scared by his own shadow. It was I, Francis the Vest, who showed him the ways of a brave man, but he still treated me like dirt!
On our voyage around the world, whenever an enemy ship came our way, I went commando mode and we took it with all of its loot. And what did dirty Drake do? He repeated my orders and got all the glory.
After we got back, there was a beautiful parade with a nasty puddle that dirty Drake put me onto for the stupid queen. Then Francis got knighted, thanks to me, and insisted that I call him Sir. That was the last straw. So, I told him to never wear me again. He said, “fine,” and went on a second voyage alone, and I never saw dirty Drake again.
The Bombing of Pearl Harbor
It was a warm sunny day in Hawaii. Just another normal day for me, Hannah the cat. I strode into the entrance of one military building, where my owner was staying, and made my way into the mess hall. I jumped onto a table, where I was closest, to get a good view of the mess hall. I looked around slowly trying to look for Zachary, my owner. “Hmmm…where could he be?” I mumbled to myself. I jumped down and went to a farther table and found Zachary sitting there. “Hey, Hannah! Ready for breakfast?” He asked me. I nodded quickly, and he put fresh fish on the side of his plate, and I started eating. Suddenly, I stopped and my ear perked up. Zachary looked at me and asked, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to eat?” He stroked my back. “Planes,” I said. Zachary looked confused. “Planes. They’re minutes away. Something bad is gonna happen!” I said, my fur bristling.” Oh, don’t worry about it! It’s probably your hearing again. After all, you are getting old,” he reassured me. “Excuse me? Did you just call me old?” I said with a mean tone. “Err…that’s not what–um…never mind,” he said.
Suddenly, a boom of sirens went off, and someone off the intercom said, “BOMBING ON PEARL HARBOR! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!” Everyone started panicking, and all I could hear was the screams of scared people and loud crashes and booms. Everyone was running out of the building, and some people were telling them not to. Even Zachary ran out in panic. “ZACHARY!” I screamed, as I chased after him. I caught up to him, and he was staring straight up at a Japanese plane, and a bomb was coming down for us. Zachary was too slow to react, and I darted for a palm tree about 12 feet away, but I couldn’t make it. The explosion from the bomb threw me right at the palm tree. That one hit broke my left hind leg, but as the smoke cleared I saw Zachary lying on the ground. I limped my way over to him and saw that he was gone, but I also saw that another bomb was raining down but on another military base farther from here. By the time it was about 9:30, the bombing had stopped, and the base and harbor was destroyed and more than 2,000 died and 1,000 were hurt, but that was December 7, 1941, or to put it in a simpler way, that was years ago. Now I live with Zachary’s family. Everything is repaired, but that bombing led us into World War II…
Jack the Bat
by crazy leprechaun
I was created by Jackie’s dad in the year of 1925 on Jackie Robinson’s birthday. I was the birthday present in the year of 1925. Plus, I was his only present he got. I never knew that Jackie was such into baseball, because once he picked me up he wouldn’t let me go. He did everything with me. He would sleep with me, play with me, and yet go to the bathroom with me, and that’s when I had enough.
“Stop!” I screamed. The poor fella screamed his heart out. He kicked the door and broke the window just to escape. “It’s okay, Jackie. It’s just me, your bat.” He calmed down a little bit but still was shocked. “Wait a second. You talk?” “Of course, I talk. how do you think I’m talking right now?” “I thought I was dreaming.” “You thought you were dreaming in a bathroom?” We started talking for a few seconds, and then he made a deal with me to never tell anyone about me and never again bring me to the bathroom. A couple of years passed, and Jackie was going to leave college. Jackie and I were both happy, because we joined a national baseball team called the Brooklyn Dodgers. We both thought we would have a good time, because we were moving someplace new. I guess the good time Jack and I hoped for ended out horrible. People were being so mean to him only because he was a different color than they were, but I helped Jackie from quitting and to be strong. When he was up to bat, I told him when to swing. But it didn’t go as planned. Jackie swinged and missed. “Strike,” the umpire yelled. “Focus, Jackie, and listen to me.” “Okay.” The pitcher threw the ball. “Swing, Jackie, swing.” “Strike!” “I told you to swing, Jackie.” “I know.” The pitcher threw the ball. “Swing, Jackie!” Crack! The ball flew out of the stadium. Therefore, Jackie listened to me since. Even though we got struck out a few times didn’t mean we were going to quit. Jackie became the first black person to ever play baseball, plus with me on his side he hit more homeruns than anyone that year. Jackie became the most valuable player for the Brooklyn Dodgers. The Pirate game was the most important game, because if he hit a homerun it will be a new record. “Ok, Jackie, get ready.” “Ok, it’s all you.” The pitcher threw the ball. “Swing, Jackie.” Crack! It was a record, but when he looked down to say thanks, I was in half.
Jackie started to cry and ran back into the dugout and drove home. He stayed inside for years, then came out. But then Jackie died of old age on October 24, 1972, but it was the most happiest day of my life because I get to see my buddy again and this time we can’t be separated.