I thought you guys might be interested in my Historical Narrative. It's slightly depressing but yeah. 

My feet dragged along the ground, kicking up dust as my mother pulled me through the market. I was reluctantly being taken to an unofficial sermon by a man my mother held in very high regard. His name was Peter, I think.

I'd much rather be playing with Jack, who got a new toy every week. I hadn't seen him for a while, so he would've had some hand me downs, old ones that he didn't want anymore.

My mother sighed, pulling me onto my feet.

"Bailey! Honestly, act polite! Saint Peter has finally come to our village! He's travelled a long way, at least act respectful! He's a messenger of the Pope!" She shook her head down at me, but soon turned back to the path, attempting to push through the crowd in front of the small wooden stage.

As she did so, I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out. It was ridiculous how obsessed she acted. I mean, I believe God is great and all, but this guy just seemed like a nut-job.

"Bailey!" My mother grabbed my wrist, anger flashing in her eyes. "These are the Pope's words he conveys!" I flushed, looking down. I had just doubted the pope! That's practically heresy!

As we reached the small wooden stage in the town square, I caught the rank scent of a donkey. My nose crinkled, but after the last time I spoke up, I wasn't going to risk it. My mother pulled me through the crowd, trying to make sure I could see. After pushing through the people, we stopped, my mother being me as I tried to look up at the man's face. He'd come onto the stage as we had crawled through the mass of people. He looked scrappy, even more than me after wrestling Phillip after it rained for days. He was good at holding me down, but I was the all-out winner.

The man cleared his throat, taking a swig from the pouch on his belt. The hush that fell over the crowd as he did so was kind of incredible, especially as the gossip queens of the town were very nearby, but even they were devout Christians.

As the man spoke, he was very persuasive. He spoke of how the Pope told the world that God wanted the Christians to have control of the Holy Land, and all who fought for His cause would have redemption, and be free of all their sins. I heard a small sniff from above me, and looked up to see tears welling in my mother's eyes. I would bet my best shoes that she was thinking about my father. When I was only three, they'd argued, leaving my father to storm out of our house, and directly into the path of a carriage. She felt she'd sinned, and her wrath was what had sent him onto the road. A chance to be clean of that... Heck, I'd go for her!

"Come, meet me, and WE will take back the Holy Land! God's people will take it back for Him!" The cheers were deafening, my mother and I joined in, adding our voices to the cacophony. I turned my face up to her, and she smiled down at me, eyes still brimming with tears. I will do this for her, and my father.

"We're off to save the Holy Land! The Saviours of the Holy Land..." My mother laughed at the girls skipping down the dusty path in front of our small house as she folded one of my tunics.

"We certainly are!" I smiled at her, but her happy face faltered, into one of worry.

"What is it, Mother?" she shook her head at me, but still smiled.

"I don't know if you should be coming on such a long journey." I gaped at her, looking grumpy.

"You can't leave me behind! Everyone is going, God needs us for His army!" Her smile came back, noting my diligence, despite it being slightly strained.

"Bailey, I'm sure God would understand if you didn't go..."

"Mother! I'm not staying behind, not without you!" She looked at me seriously, thinking it over. I decided to speak up again, to persuade her finally.

"The Saviours of the Holy Land, eh? You and I, Bailey. We can save the Holy Land!" I cheered, and she picked me up, kissing my forehead with a small laugh.

"Hurry Mother, they're passing now!" I jogged on the spot, impatiently waiting for my mother to get the last bit of food we could bring. "Let's go!" She came out of the pantry, slinging her pack onto her back. I had my own small bag, with a change of clothes, a water pouch, and little bit of the food Mother had packed.

"Quickly, quickly!" I shouted, grabbing her smock and dragging her out the door. She laughed, following willingly. We merged with the flow of people, full of excitement and anticipation. We strode down the wide dusty paths, laughing, talking, and having a gay time. Soon enough, the song that had been echoing through the village started up.

We're off to save the Holy Land,

The Saviours of the Holy Land,

God's Army for the Holy Land,

The People of the Holy Land!

This happy personality of the People soon faded. Children, like me, were tired and sore, like everyone else. We struggled over hills, across plains, and hoped for charity from the villages we passed through. We were running very low on supplies, and so the spread of food was very thin. Phillip was one of the worst, looking like he was going to fall over if he didn't get any food. I wasn't much better, my mouth very dry, my lips cracked and rough. Mother was trying to give me her water constantly, but I had my own.

"Mother, I'm fine! Look, here." I took my water pouch, gulping from it as she watched anxiously. After a couple of swallows, I hooked it back on my belt. She pursed her lips, but gestured for me to keep walking. I grimaced in response, as my legs ached quite harshly. But I continued, stumbling onwards.

We soon saw the mountain range getting quite close, and our slowly swelling force cheered loudly. That meant we could stop to rest, before crossing the mountains to meet the other parts of God's Army, as we had decided our name would be. We tramped through the small town, and went to find a good place to camp. A farmer lent us his barn, large enough to hold a village, which is exactly what we were. We traipsed into the barn, everyone collapsing into the hay. I blinked slowly, the world becoming blurry as my eyelids closed.

When my eyes opened, they opened with a start. I'd been awoken by shouts of: "Phillip? Phillip!" I rubbed my eyes, sitting up. The world still blurry, I saw my mother rushing over to another woman. I blinked rapidly, my eyes clearing as I saw my mother crouching next Phillip's mother. I jumped up, running over to them. I managed to see, that underneath Phillip's mother, was a very gaunt, still, Phillip. My mouth gaped open, and I gulped.

"Mother?" I said slowly, shaking slightly. She turned, looking seriously at me.

"Bailey, come here." I shuffled slowly towards her, nose wrinkling at the horrible scent.

"Phillip is... dead." I gasped, my mouth stretching wider, along with my eyes.

"L-like Father?"

"Yes." I shook my head rapidly, staring down at my friend.

"He can't be! It's not possible!" Phillip's mother drew me down into a hug, and I felt her tears on my dirtied tunic. I didn't respond, still too shell shocked to do anything. He was dead, like Father. Never coming back. Ever. That just wasn't... okay. It wasn't okay.

"Hilaria, come have some soup." My own mother helped me out of Phillip's mother's embrace. The grieving lady stood with me, and nodded, walking stiffly over to the large pot that was being used for food. She was muttering something under her breath, anger beginning to flare in her eyes. Mother looked at me.

"Come on, you need some food too."

"I don't think I can eat, Mother," I told her in a low voice. I couldn't speak any louder, nor did I want to.

"You need it, Bailey. Come on, you'll feel better." She reached out, and I took her hand, my heartbeat slowly as I felt safe once again.

The next day, we packed up, thanking the farmer that had lent us his barn with some dried meat. We walked through the damp plains, as winter was setting in. All I could think about was how Phillip looked, gaunt and deathly still. Deathly still, huh. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I sniffed, louder than I wanted to. I felt a hand land on my shoulder, and looked up, expecting to see my mother. But above me was a teary eyed Hilaria, who leant down, hugging me to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her neck, a couple of tears landed on her smock. We stood there for a minute, before we were swept away by the slowly dwindling group.

The People of God's Army, including me, soon reached the bottom of the mountain range. By then, winter had truly set in. I was almost constantly shivering, unless I was squished in between Mother and Hilaria, who's been acting like I'm her second son. All we had to do was travel over the Alps, and we would meet up with the rest of God's Army. I felt so weak, I didn't think I could make it. I tugged on the edge of Mother's smock, coughing slightly. She turned, and I could see the fear in her eyes.

"Mother," I said, voice low and weak, "I don't think I can make it over the mountains." She started chewing on her lip, looking anxious.

"Don't be silly. We're getting stew tonight. I'm sure you're just hungry." I nodded, trusting her decision, like I always did. She was my mother. She took my hand, leading me to one of the few sleeping mats that what was left of our village had. Hilaria's sister had died soon after Phillip, and our Headman had passed onto Heaven just before her. Our new Headman's daughter was next, starvation, they said. And they're only the ones I know of. They were many more, leaving our village with only half of what we'd started with. Despite our dwindling numbers, we had managed to make it to the meeting point of the other two villages along the long, long way. That's why our collective was so large.

"Go to sleep, darling. I'll wake you when the stew is ready. I promise you'll feel better." That was the last thing I heard, as I laid down, Mother placing a fur over me. The first thing I heard, however, was sung in a different tune.

"If God takes him too, I'll know He has abandoned us." The voice was female, but blurred, and thick with tears.

"Bailey will be fine, Hilaria. He just needs some of that stew." I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, realising they were talking about me. Soon enough, I recognised that voice as the one of my mother. She sounded very calm, the opposite to Hilaria, the teary voice.

"Are you sure?" asked the low, wobbly, voice.

"Completely. Now, will you get a few bowls of that stew for us?" There was a silence, then I heard footsteps going away from where I was. After that, a hand gently shook my shoulder.

"Bailey?" I opened my eyes slowly, like I would if I was just waking up.

"Yeah?" I said, adding a fake yawn for emphasis.

"Dinner. Hilaria's just on her way back with rabbit stew. More water, though. There was only one rabbit." I laughed with her, sitting up with a growl of my stomach.

When Hilaria returned with a few rough bowls of weak rabbit stew, I immediately dug into mine. Ravenous, I felt my stomach ache as I dug in. The wooden spoon I had to use was splintered, and scraped against the edges of my mouth. I quickly finished the weak, watery meal, but even that didn't much help the pain in my stomach. I groaned, curling over after I set the bowl down.

"Bailey, are you alright?" Mother asked as she placed her hand on my back.

"My stomach hurts... I feel like it's eating the inside of me!" Hilaria and my mother exchanged a nervous glance.

"You'll be fine. Tomorrow you'll get to climb a mountain!" I smiled slowly, and lay down.

"I promise you'll get up in the morning, Bailey, if it's the last thing I do.

That sentence was the last thing I heard.

Oh dear. I apologise for my horrible short story.