July Writing Challenge: Character Who Witnesses a Historical Event

7/3/2016

July #writingchallenge from www.victoriaminks.com! Can you write a story with a character who witnesses a historical event?

Howdy!

It's time for another challenge! This month we'll be writing a story about a person witnessing a historical event. It could be an actual figure in history or a made up character, and it can be any historical even you choose! That's hundreds of years filled with options right there!

Speaking of history, what's your favorite time periods to write in? I love writing in the 1700s, and WWII... I would definitely say those are the first that come to mind. But then when you actually look at my story ideas/WIPs I've got some in the early 1800's, as well as the late Victorian era/turn of the century, up until the 1960s. But whether all those will make it to publishing is uncertain. :P

Hope you have a lovely day!
<3
Victoria

10 Comments

Olivia

7/3/2016 10:17:23 pm

Oh neat. I love historical fiction :) My favorite time periods would be three main ones: WW1, WW2, and 1950s. I know the last two are pretty close in time, but it's neat seeing the slight differences even after WW2.

As for reading....that is hard! I read loads of different time periods, but if I was to pick I'd probably say WW2 is my favorite historical fiction to read.

Victoria Minks

7/4/2016 10:25:20 am

I'd love to read your story if you do the challenge, (hint hint) :P. Oh yes, I know what you mean about slight differences between WWII and the 1950's! Like the differences between 1910's and 1920's, or the late 1800's and early 1900.
You might have to send me some book suggestions sometime for WWII era books. I just realized how odd it is I haven't read more than I have in that time period. lol. :)

Hannah link

7/5/2016 05:58:55 am

This is so fun!!! I'll have to do it. =)

I'm new on your blog and I have to say that I love it so much! Definitely be looking forward to what you write. =)

Victoria Minks

7/5/2016 02:41:15 pm

Hi Hannah! Thanks! I'd love to have you join in the challenge. :)
That's awesome! I'm so glad you like the blog! Your comment made my day. ;)

Abigail

7/6/2016 02:30:24 am

Yay! I'm so excited! I hope I will be able to do this one. The ideas are already forming. :)

Victoria Minks

7/6/2016 06:19:00 pm

Awesome! I'd love to read it sometime if you want to share it. :)

Katja L.

7/16/2016 12:50:35 am

My favourite time periods are the ones I'm writing about in TDP. My top favorite: Vikings, Robin Hood/Richard Coeur-de-Lion, Sir William Wallace/Robert the Bruce, Bushrangers, Sepoy Mutiny, Acadians, Titanic, WWI, WWII. I like reading all historical fiction, but my favorites are those up there. . . The World Wars (especially from soldiers' viewpoints) are my top favourite periods—theres so much to write and read about!

Victoria Minks

7/17/2016 01:22:15 pm

Such cool time periods! :) Thanks for sharing.

Katja L.

8/2/2016 07:37:52 pm

This story was inspired by reading about a Catholic chaplain in WWII. It burdened my heart to realize how many lost souls died during those wars, and I wanted to write a story about a Christian chaplain. The characters were inspired by three of my great-grandfathers who were involved in WWII—James Watson (cook—incidentally he was a pastor), Eyvind Hellquist (medic), and A. Archibald King (truck driver). This time they're from BOTH my parents' side—the first two from my mother's, the last my father's. And Alexandre Labonté's name is inspired by Archibald's son, Alexandre King. Any comments? Is it pathetic? Would simpler be better? How could I make it simpler? Criticism please! :)

ONE SOWETH, ANOTHER REAPETH:
A Tale of the World Wars
Galatians 6:9

(A Hospital in France after Ypres, 1914)
Thirty-year-old James Watson carefully smoothed the pages of his Bible. The young soldier—he was about twelve years younger than James—had his eyes closed, but he was undeniably waiting.
James cleared his throat. “Let's start at the beginning,” he began in his not-as-quiet-the-nurses-would-desire voice.
The boy opened his eyes. “Je suis québécois, m'sieu. Je parle seulement français.”
James frowned, but silently gave thanks for having studied French in school. “It's alright. I speak French,” he said cheerfully. “I said, we'll start at the beginning.”
The boy closed his eyes again, and the man watched him silently for a minute, momentarily discouraged. Would there be any fruit? Was his ministry even worth anything? So often it was not. Then he shrugged, dismissed the matter, and turned to his Bible.
“First of all you must realize that you are a sinner.” He cleared his throat again. Bothersome cold! “Romans 3:23-24 says ‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’” He looked over at the boy, whose lips paled.
“That is true. I have done many bad things. That is why I am afraid. I don't want to go to Hell.” His eyes opened, frightened and pleading.
“And God does not want you to, mon ami,” James replied cheerily. “Romans 6:23 says ‘For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ Do you know John 3:16?”
The boy shook his head feebly.
“It says, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.
He that believeth on him is not condemned:’” James folded his hands and leaned back in an effort to lower the voice-tone that reached the boy. He was turning paler and his breathing seemed more forced by the minute. “God does not want you to suffer in Hell. But He is just, and he can allow no sin in Heaven. Therefore He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die in your stead. ‘That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. [. . .] For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”
The boy shook his head pitifully, plucking at the sheet. “That is too easy. What about my sins? I need to pay for them, to make up for them.” He shook his head again, closing his eyes. “You are kind, m'sieu, but you cannot help me. I am bad and I will die. That is all” and tears began slipping down his cheeks.
James sat up and opened his mouth for a forcible protest, but it never came, for at the identical moment a nurse came flying in with the pathetic request of a dying man who wanted comfort, and seized his arm, towing him away in an effort to save time. James was obliged to swallow his words and follow her reluctantly, looking back at the hopeless, helpless boy crying silently on the white bed.
~//~

Kots

8/2/2016 07:40:04 pm

(The Battlefield of Ortona, c. 1943)
Twenty-two-year-old Archie Watson clutched his Bible to him. How often had he played this over, committing to memory passages and words! He hoped desperately that his nervousness would disappear, but long suffering had taught him the opposite was bound to happen.
The desperately-wounded Québécois soldier lying on the stretcher was about the same age. He was waiting patiently for Archie, who at last discovered that his tongue was lying in his mouth.
“How do you do?” he stammered. “I'm Archie Watson, the chaplain.” Then he blushed crimson. Of all stupid speeches!
The other laughed outright, and his laugh was echoed by several of the stretcher-bearers working nearby. Archie caught the merrily dancing eye of one in particular who was his age and blushed deeper. Would he never finish disgracing himself?
“I am very well, and you?” replied the wounded soldier politely, but his eyes laughing. “My name is Alexandre Labonté, and I'm a private.”
Archie flushed even more, and the other laughed and swatted his sleeve. “Oh, balderdash! I'm sorry, I couldn't help teasing you,” he added repentantly, seeing the stinging tears in the sensitive Archie's eyes, despite his frantic attempts to disguise them.
Just then Dr. Hellquist bent over Alexandre, then turned to Archie. “He will be fine for a while, but I have a dying man here who desperately wants to see you.”
Alexandre nodded at Archie. “Go, I'm fine. I'm a Christian too, that's why I said I was fine, even if I die. God bless you, and I'm sorry.”
Archie scrambled up with a hasty reply and stumbled after Dr. Hellquist, praying for support and courage. Soon he was hunching over an older man of some forty-three years, evidently about to face his Creator. He opened his eyes and looked steadily into Archie's pale face.
“I know you.” His voice was measured, unemotional. “You are the son of James Watson. Yes. He ministered to me back in ’14 when I was a kid. Read me the verses again.”
Thankfully, Archie had often heard the story and knew which verses his father had read. After considerable stuttering, some dropping, and much flushing, he managed to recited them, the man listening with closed eyes. He seemed to not even be listening, and Archie was watching him, hesitating, with the horrible possibility in his mind that “he might be dead”, when the same quiet, unfaltering voice reached him.
“I believe. Yes. Jesus is real and Jesus can wash me and save me from Hell. What do I say?”
Archie was incapable to reply for several minutes, choking with delight and astonishment and quivering with joy. “Ju–just tell J– Jesus that a-and that you w-want Him to c-come live in y-your heart,” he gasped at last, the words flying out in almost incoherently.
The man's lips moved soundlessly for a moment. Then with an effort he opened his eyes forever to be closed and whispered, his voice failing:
“Tell your father—I will meet him in Heaven.”