It was December 16, 1773, and the Boston Tea Party, the protest against the raising of tea prices in Boston had just begun. I shot out of the muddied ground, fluttering all 20 of my pleopods. I could hear an unnerving thump echo through the water, the vibrations from the sound nearly reversed the currents in my slow-moving water home. I carefully drifted back downwards, landing on the silt-covered ground. I traversed the muddied terrain with my long needle-like legs, attempting to avoid the source…
Words 1894 - Pages 8