For this school assignment I had to write a 2 page paper telling the story of a French Huguenot Christian during their persecution in the late 1600s.

February 2, 1698

Yesterday they came. The yellow coats. With their horses and rifles. Streaming through our town like the spring rain. I knew this day would come. I have known it would for some time, but somehow I didn’t think it would come. Not today, not any day. I feel as if I am in a dream – a nightmare – never to wake up, never to go to sleep. It has been nothing but running. Running, climbing, wading, hiding, running. I am not tired. Nor am I hungry. It is like the devil himself is chasing me for eternity, never to rest. And where can I go? Who will help me? Is there nothing left?

February 3, 1698

We have found shelter in the woods, for a time at least. I have enough time to write the sorrows of yesterday.

*****

In my small town, tucked away in the corner of France, I sat stitching away at my soon-to-be new dress. I was humming a song with the birds. And, oh! What a merry little song it was! I was tempted to put down my sewing, fly downstairs,out the front door, and whirl around under the oak tree until I fell  in exhaustion. But, no. I had to finish the dress. No, no, I wanted to finish the dress. I would look wonderful in it at church. That is when it happened. The noise. The shaking. I looked up amazed at what I saw. The king’s men, the yellow coats, in our town. In my town. They went straight to the priest’s house, stopped and came out again in a few moments shoving the  priest out with them. I held my breath as I opened my window a crack. By this time many men and boys had gathered out on the streets. The priest  was pushed to the town square.  And then the captain shouted, “ Will you take the vow to become a Catholic and leave behind your Huguenot ways?”

The answer from the minister was loud and proud, “NO.” There was an unbearable silence. It seemed as if all held their breath for what was to come. The captain straightened his rifle on his shoulder, and then turned to the crowd which had grown quite big by now.

“Does this minister speak for all of you? Is there any reason within you?” I could tell that no man would be the first to speak. No man would lose his honor giving in to such. “Very well then. You have chosen your fate!” Every thing after that happened so fast. All I know is that I ran. Fast. I ran down the stairs, into the kitchen, grabbed some food and the spare money. Then I was joined by maman carrying my baby brother. I heard gun fire. I smelled smoke. Was that screaming? Where was my father? I was out the back door. I saw maman trying to say something to me, but her words were lost in the noise. She handed me a basket as we ran, ran, ran. I saw my neighbors running with us.

*****

Well, I am here now, with maman, my brother, and many others. But I will never forget that image: the minister falling, falling, never to stand up again.

February 5, 1698

Maman, my brother, and I have made it to a harbor where we persuaded a captain to take us to America. It took almost everything we had to get the fare, and still we have to work for our keep on the ship. We set sail this morning. I wish I was able to look at France once more, but Captain Louis said we would have to hide in storage barrels until we were in open water. “ Believe me,” he said, “ you’ll be much safer down there.” Then he laughed. An evil laugh. I pray to God that he will keep his word and not betray us.

It felt like hours when finally the first mate came down and helped us out of our hiding spot. Captain Louis said that the king’s men had boarded and he had to bribe them not to search the cargo hold. He said, “ I am sorry for the inconvenience, but further payment must be made. Perhaps the young lady’s diary? Yes! Isn’t that gold binding? That would be perfect!” He smiled a fake smile. So here I am writing my last entry in my new diary.

Maman is calling. I must return to my chores. And let go of my old life.