uws writing sample 3.14

8/11/2019 UWS Writing Sample 3.14

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Book Two

Chapter Eleven

This wasnt a game anymore. I was shot. Really, truly, shot. It all seemed sort of surreal

to me up until this point. Sure, I was definitely traveling back in time, the elixir was for real, but

I never reallythought that I was in an actual danger. This is no joke, Nathaniel. There is no going

back from this.Salvadors words rang through my head. Faith did her best to patch up the

wound, but with every gingerly step I took, I could feel a thin warm stream of blood trickle down

my shin. I looked down and saw that the once white cotton bandage was now mostly pink, with a

deep, dark red circle in the middle where the bullet had entered my leg. Faith found me a stick of

wood, about four feet long, just strong enough for me to use as a crutch.

Here, take this walking stick. Shesaid with a flash of innocence, trying to make the best of a

bad situation.

I used to play with these when I was younger, She continued.

My sister and I would pretend we were Lewis and Clarkexploring the great unknown, She

paused and took a look at my leg.

Except neither of us had been shot.

I couldnt help but smile, even amidst all of the pain.

Yeah, I guess this is a little different. Not much though. I joked.

We moved slowly through the country, each step seeming more painful than the onebefore. The air was hot and muggy, the moisture seemed to be sitting, waiting stagnantly for

someone to push it out of your way in order to move forward. The humidity was strangling me.

It reminded me of the many summer days I spent in New York City, one of those days where I

would take a step outside and immediately long for my return to my air conditioning.Air

conditioning,I thought. Wouldnt that be nice right about now.Just another thing I had taken for

granted. One of the many. I could feel the blue cotton uniform, which you could now argue was

more red than blue, sticking to my back, smothering my torso, making it difficult to breathe.

And to think that I volunteered for this, I said to Faith between deep breaths, trying to

make light of the situation.

What? You cant take a little exercise? Faith responded.

A man like you should be up for a march like this.

Faith, Im shot, remember?

Oh comeon, think of the bright side, youre not dead!


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Thats true, I wasnt dead. Yet.

Faith was good about trying to make light of a bad situation. She was positive. I loved

that about her. Thats what I needed in my life, some positivity.

You are right about that, Faith. I looked down, inspecting the bandage, making sure Ihadnt lost too much blood.

So, uh, do you know where were headed? I asked, just realizing that I had no idea

where in the hell we were.

Sure I do, its easy.

Again, positivity.

Right now well, you see that river? Between those trees? Faith stopped walking and

pointed to the right.

Yeah. I lied. I had no idea where any river was. Truth is, I just trusted Faith.I trusted

that she had my back and that she would take care of me. Hell, I had Faith.

As long as we dont lose sight of that and keep walking north, we should be okay. She

said.

We should find Washingtons armyeventually.

Ill take your word for it.

The walk became easier the more I got used to dealing with the pain. What started as asharp, shooting, disabling pain, had turned into a sort of numbness, as if my brain wanted me to

forget I had been shot. Trust me, I hadnt forgotten.Every hour or so we had to stop to change

the bandage and make sure the wound hadnt gotten infected or increased in sizeit hadnt. I

wasnt used to being the one needing looking out for. Thebaby. The cripple. Sure, being an only

child did allow my parents to baby me more than, say, Tommy Richnows parents, who had six

childrenfour boys and two girls (God bless them)but I never allowed my parents to spoil

me. I resented that treatment. Plus, growing up in the city always seemed to provide more

freedom, more independence, than anything else.

I had developed this odd sort of limp. Faith joked and said that I looked like a duck whenI walked; all straight legged, waddling from one side to the other. In a way, I knew what she

meant. I remembered the day trips to Central Park that my Mom and I would take when I was

younger. She would pack us each a bagged lunch, usually an egg salad sandwich (my favorite),

whichever fruit we had in the house, and always made sure to include three strawberry fruit roll-

ups for dessert (two for me, one for her). We would spread a blanket down on the crisp, well-

maintained Central Park grass and sit and watch the ducks for hours. And when I would toss a


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next to Faith and started to take off my uniform. Carefully, I nestled my boots off, one at a time,

to make sure that I didnt pop any blisters.

Ah, I let out an involuntary sigh of relief and extended my legs in front of me.

Henry! Faith shouted. Your feet! Look at them!

Yeah, theyre just blisters though, Ill be fine.

In reality, the blisters and my overall level of discomfort seemed to have effectively taken

my mind away from the bullet wound, which, I guess, was a good thing.More pain to cover up

the old pain. I get it Salvador, I get it. This is real. This is dangerous.The bandage was now

moist and cherry redit was time for a new one.

uws writing sample 3.14

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