Quintus Dialectical Journal

Three men stood, huddling together on the blazing hot afternoon. They whispered amongst themselves, the discussion bouncing back and forth, debating over a certain topic— revolution. Boxes and crates of resources and weaponry from the French and Indian War surrounded them, covering them from the view of passing citizens of Boston. The cover also served another purpose. A spy by the name of Quintus Kelsey was hidden behind them, listening in on the men’s conversation. He was on the British side, and he was about to discover something that changed millions of people’s lives.

“Paul, we can’t afford for those lobsterbacks to find out,” said one voice Quintus had inferred was Samuel Adam’s. He, of course, was a protester at a broad scale, being part of the Sons of Liberty. Adams was massively wanted throughout the colonies.

Quintus’ spying was

He was quartered in the house by the law of the King. Quintus was in a unique situation. He was a spy quartered in a house as though he was not a British soldier.

Quintus had made it to his house. He pulled the key from his pocket. They jangled as they fit into the lock. The door swung wide open, leaving the insides of the house to the public to view. Quintus stepped in, and locked the door once more.

He grabbed a loaf of bread from the pantry. The kitchen was a cramped mess of rusted tools and spilt food and drink. The walls were stained a sickening color of dark mustard yellow.

As Quintus bit into the bread. It was a bit stale, but nevertheless, it was satisfying to fill his stomach with something after being so on-edge with the French man and the spying incident.

A roar of fury came from the street. Quintus poked his head outside to see what the trouble was. A horse was on the ground, panting while a man shouted insults at it. The horse didn’t understand a word the man said, but it knew it wasn’t