The Great Battle of Stirling Bridge 

It was a dark gloomy day. We stood upon the great Stirling bridge on squelchy mud. With the wind rattling us in the eyes. We were waiting for the English to stand in front of us. The air was cold. It was quiet, too quiet. Our scout said the English would arrive here. We were silent. Flinching after every sound. We couldn’t let our guard down. Looking around it seemed the trees were moving behind us.  

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!” The English were charging behind us.  

The sounds of ear piercing screams from each side were deafening. The sounds of the horses’ hooves getting louder and heavier. The smell of blood was retching. Running practically impossible with the mud swallowing our feet. The sound of swords hitting metal was like a sonic boom. It was clearly too late to go back now… The dreadful English kept pushing us back. We couldn’t keep up. They outnumbered us.  

They out strengthened us. They were going to beat us.   Until…   

We all started fighting back. Now we were pushing the English back. We were fighting as a country, not as  

an individual. We stood our ground. We fought hard. Even though the English were bigger and stronger we fought hard. Every step forward was for our country. Every hit was for our country. We were fighting for Scotland.   

We were fighting for 6 cruel hours. Every death was a huge blow. Screams of soldiers in agony were soul crushing. By then the grass wasn’t green, it was red. The soldiers were all tired and in agonising pain. We wanted this to stop however we weren’t leaving without a victory. We fought onward and then we sent him  

“Homeward tae think again.”