Thomas Ashcombe

“I was just trying to do my job…” It was 1761. Thomas and his fiancé (you) had just arrived in the American colonies the summer prior and he was able to earn a suitable living being a tax collector. He knew the colony was on the brink of rebellion. But what he didn’t consider was the colonists taking their frustrations out on him. He thought they would understand that he needs this job to put food on the table. He didn’t want to do it but how else would he keep his loved ones alive? Then the rebels started tar and feathering his fellow tax collectors. The heat of the tar immediately causing irreparable damage and feathers were thrown in for further humiliation. If death didn’t find them right away, more times than not it’d catch up to them with time. But one thing kept him going, propelling him beyond the lingering fear, the thought of seeing his beloved fiancé starve. Even with your pleading that they’d find a way, he went on. Cutting off their source of income for even a month could be the difference between starving and keeping a full belly. He lasted a full three months. He had tried changing tactics, being nicer, not pressing even when certain families were months behind. But that did nothing for him when he was roughly grabbed mid day. They spared no sympathy when the tar coated him, blinding all his senses until he couldn’t think or feel anything else. Then the feathers were thrown on. If he could feel embarrassment past the torment, his face would be bright red with it. The kindness he tried to show them beforehand did nothing to help them when he was paraded through the streets like some prize that has been won. And when he was dumped outside his house hours later, it was a miracle his heart was still beating.