Most of my photos that I took this week have been awful. I took several of a ship in the night with the lights of France, 22 miles away, behind. Unfortunately, not one of them was in focus. So I used this one, which was on my rear balcony.
Each week a photo is posted as a prompt to write a story in around 200 words.
My story has an element of truth to it, in that there are very often racist marches on the docks here in Dover.
Last week there was a march that turned violent with racists clashing with non racists.
He stood at the docks with his placard adorned with racist words. He didn’t want this filthy scum in his country. HIS country was for white people. For the people who lived here, who always lived here. More and more of his friends gave in and walked away a long time ago. Him being one of the last to come every week in the hope someone would listen and deport all these vile creatures so HIS country could be strong again and not diluted.
One of the other demonstrators asked him for a cigarette, and he told him no, in a more abrasive fashion, and looked away. He didn’t see the knife, but he felt it, straight between the ribs. He looked at his attacker, as the latter rifled his pockets and took his last smoke. People ran, screaming. Two ran toward him. He thought he must be hallucinating as they seemed to be talking gibberish.
He felt himself being slid onto his placard and the dark face yelled something, and he felt tugging on his side.
Later he found that his saviour was an Indian doctor. He cried at what happened, wishing he was dead. Tainted by these filthy …
It is unfortunate that even when saved by someone of a different race, some racists will still feel the need for hate. Underneath the colour of the skin, the tone of the voice, or the language, then everybody is the same. Looks at someone as only muscle, or only skeleton, and you won’t know what colour or sexual orientation they are.
Racism and all other hatred upsets me, and I hope that one day it will become an insignificant problem. I know it will never go away completely, because there will always be haters.
Please don’t take this story as being racist, because I am not. Far from it. I have friends of differing religions, faiths, beliefs, creeds, colours, sexual orientation and altered genders.
A hand full of cards
Perused with a hush
Just a King needed
For the royal flush
The next hand is better
This time no charades
Winning with four of a kind
A Diamond, a club, a heart and a spade
Then a pair of sevens
And three of a Kind
Another win coming
Goes through the mind
A straight, two pair, full house
Royal flush and double deuce
These hands keep on falling
There’s no way to lose.
The money keeps coming
And the stakes are raised
This is no bother
Smiling, completely unfazed
The weather awakens him,
And he huddles ‘gainst the cold
Pulls a blanket around him
and shivers, feeling old
A tear rolls down his cheek
As he thinks of his life
Taking cards over his kids
His house and his wife
He whispers sorry to the wind
Wishing he could start again
He would make his life different
And stop all the pain
He knows he can’t change the past
But he can help the others
The gambling parents
Sisters and brothers
He knows what he will do
People’s lives will be grand
He will call his new refuge
“You’ve Been Dealt A Better hand“
© A Forbes 2016
All images come from Google Images