Cordia s Will A Civil War Story of Love and Loss

The cold winds of October swept through the small town of Compton as the cries of a newborn echoed in the dimly lit room of the Watkins farmhouse. Louis Watkins, a dedicated nurse with tired eyes and calloused hands, held her baby boy close to her chest, tears of joy mixing with the sweat on her brow. George Watkins, a rugged farmer with a stern face and gentle heart, stood beside her, his rough palms trembling as he touched his son's tiny fingers.

They named him John.

Life on the outskirts of Compton was never easy. The Watkins family owned a modest plot of land, barely enough to keep food on the table. George toiled under the sun from dawn till dusk, and Louis worked long shifts at the town's clinic. But to them, John was the hope they clung to, the seed of something better.

John grew quickly, a quiet boy with wide eyes and a mind that wandered more than it worked. By the time he was seven, he had already become familiar with the scent of freshly tilled soil and the feel of warm soup shared after long, hard days. His world was small, school, home, farm, and yet, it often felt too large for a boy like him.

School was a different kind of battlefield.

At Compton Elementary, John lagged behind. While other children read aloud with ease and scribbled numbers quickly across their papers, John stared blankly at the chalkboard, letters jumbling into meaningless shapes. His teacher, Miss Clara Hewitt, tried her best to be patient, often pulling him aside after class.

"John," she said gently one afternoon, kneeling beside his desk, "you need to try harder. I know it's not easy, but you have to focus. Your future depends on this."

John only nodded, eyes downcast, cheeks burning with shame.

His best friends, Martins and Ferdinand, were the only ones who didn't treat him like he was broken. Martins was a chubby, cheerful boy with a laugh that could echo through an entire building. Ferdinand was thin and smart-mouthed, always quick with a sarcastic remark. Together, they formed an odd trio-two bright boys and one who always tried but barely kept up.

"You'll be fine, Johnny," Martins said one day, tossing a football across the schoolyard. "One day, you'll be smarter than all of us."

But not everyone shared that kindness.

Thompson, a tall, mean-eyed boy with a mouth full of cruel words, never missed a chance to make John feel small.

"Hey Watkins," Thompson sneered as John passed by the hallway one morning. "Did your brain forget to grow with the rest of you?"

The other kids laughed, and John felt his stomach twist into knots. He tried to ignore it, but the bullying chipped away at his spirit. Every insult was another crack in the fragile confidence he tried so hard to build.