Do You See A Demon?
George Washington's Private Journals
General George Washington stood near the fire-place and was wondering why men commit such violent acts. He knew the British powers that be would never sanction rape parties or the slaughter of innocent women and children. It's just the men and the evil the men do. He wondered what evil his men would do once he gave them the range to seek out freedom.
Silence, then a frigid “Freedom is not free,” he whispered. “It never has been, and it never will be.”
The following week, there was a more sinister evil establishing itself at Washington's camp. Patriot agents had reported that the British had so wanted to take New York. The General didn't know whether to meet the British head on, or find out who has been killing his guards during the night.
The General's second in command came into Washington's tent with his arms folded behind his back trying to stand at attention.
“At ease, Paul,” said the General.
“Four more guards were found with their throats cut sir. That's 7 in two nights.”
“We're needed East,” the second in command added.
“We're going to allow the British to take New York,” the General paused. “Find out who is killing our guards. Then we head east to retake New York.”
“I'm not going to have my men murdered during our quest,” said the General. “We find out who is killing my men!”
“Maybe trying to protect New York is what we should mission first.”
The General shook his head.
“George, I really must protest.”
The General thought about the hardship, the weather abuse, and hunger that his men suffered during their quest for freedom. He knew that ignoring the murders was just another slap in their faces. He couldn't allow that to happen.
He burned with anger as he leaned toward his second in command. “I said we let them take New York!”
Captain Caleb Woodall entered the tent almost forgetting to announce his arrival. He stopped frozen in his tracks, but the General just turned away from him.
“What is it, Captain?” asked the second in command.
“Major Sheff, General Washington,” he paused. “The murders will stop now.”
That news completely turned Washington around to face the captain.
“Here, on campus?”
“Actually Chief Running Horse's night guard witnessed the murder of Chester Riley last night, but couldn't confront the killer right away. They had some reservation.”
“Why?” asked the captain.
“He said one of the murderers was a woman.”
“A woman?” the General added.
“The married couple we picked up a few days back.”
“The Pacifists?” the General questioned.
The captain nodded.
“We do have the killers, right?” asked the General.
“Just the woman,” replied the captain.
“Impaled sir, by nearly twenty five Indian arrows.”
The General cocked his head to one side in confusion.
“Sir, the male tried to get away, but the Indians stopped him in his tracks, literally,” he explained.
The General turned away from the captain in order to contemplate the situation. The Indians were fearsome when measured in numbers. The death of the male Pacifist must have sent his ghost screaming toward Hell.
The Indians stayed pretty constant in the area, during the revolution. They were full of energy, they ran faster, rode faster, but never lost that touch of humanity.
“What do we do with the woman?” asked the second in command.
“We have no time to try her,” said the General softly. “Firing squad, immediately.”
“But General, she's a woman.”
“That was an order!”
“Aye sir,” the second in command turned to the captain and dismissed him.
“Go with him,” said the General. “Make sure the ordered is carried out swiftly.”
“George,” the second in command paused. “When you look in the mirror, do you see a demon?”
“Dismiss!” Washington barked.
When the second in command turn to exit he heard Washington clear his throat as if wanted him to wait.
“I do Paul, I do,” he answered as his second in command closed his eyes and exited the General's tent...
© 2015 Frank Atanacio
More by this Author
Kimber then started scanning the length of the train station platform and the parking lot looking for any trace of a witness. It was very early in the morning, and the streets were empty and the .....
O'Brien knew that somewhere deep down inside him, he could handle a drink. He never truly believed he can go on with his life in the state of sobriety. If he planned to drink after weeks out of rehab,
The gatherers just stood around and watched the young woman suffering as their brains were being pickled by stupidity.