Seth J. Pierce
From Chapter 1, "The Holy Scriptures."
I don’t know what was different about that night; for some reason my brothers and I did not want to go to sleep. My brother Ben, my stepbrother T. J., and I had all been marched through the bathroom and then downstairs to our bedroom and told it was time to go to bed. I decided to mount a resistance.
We owned a collection of toys known as Sky Commanders—plastic spaceships and battle stations that fired plastic missiles. They had zip lines attached to the ceiling so you could send the ships whizzing across the room at your target while they fired the plastic missiles. I determined these toys would be the answer to our parents’ power trip—I mean, who were they to tell us when to go to bed? How much power did they really have?
So I gave a rousing speech to my siblings. “We can defeat our parents if you will follow me and my plan! We will use our Sky Commanders to mount a resistance—it will be a devastating attack! Our parents will be weeping and apologizing for sending us to bed.” My brothers believed me and took my speech as absolute truth. Together we set up our attack.
When everything was in place, we made a lot of noise so as to rouse our parents from their slumber. Soon we could hear the thump, thump, thump of footsteps coming down the stairs. Dad was coming, and he would be angry.
“Battle stations!” I hissed in a loud whisper. Everyone ran to a different corner of the room, readying their equipment.
“Lights!” I hissed again, and the room was in utter darkness. “Wait for it—”
When my dad opened the door expecting to have to give yet an- other lecture to us wayward children, he was greeted by a surprise. Total darkness. He fumbled around until he found the switch and the lights came on. He was taken aback by what he saw. Zip lines were strung all over the rafters, with spaceships ready to fly; a whole army of futuristic plastic canons was arranged all over the floor. And manning all the toy weaponry were three very stupid children semi-frozen with fear. My dad took a step back.
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Abigail was the homeschooled daughter of a Christian minister in the northeastern United States. She was largely self-taught, desperately wanting to ensure she received a good education. She loved to read, and spent time studying law, French, ancient classics, and the works of William Shakespeare in depth. Along the way, Abigail developed skills in writing, for which she would one day become very well-known. Her father, William Smith, who led the Congregationalist church in Weymouth, Massachusetts, was himself a very well-read man, a graduate of Harvard College several years earlier. He often allowed young Abigail into . . . read more