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My Writer's Journal

Bastille Day, Paris, 1789

A mob had stormed the Bastille, and the ancient prison fortress had fallen. They came by the thousands, armed with anything they could find. Many of them were women, some even bringing their children. The fools thought they’d find guns and powder, and secret caches of grain. They believed the cells were filled with enemies of the king, and they were bent on freeing them. The governor of the Bastille hung out a white flag of peace, but the mob ignored it and commenced attacking from all sides. It was a horrendous scene. The fighting grew more intense—the mob didn’t seem to care how many of their number were killed or wounded by the defending soldiers. They climbed onto the roofs and broke into the dungeons and released the prisoners, though they found only seven, madmen and forgers, not the hundreds of the victims of injustice they’d expected.
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