All's Well... by Jill Waters

‘This isn’t going to end well,’ I said, watching the crowd gathering below the window. ‘Oh I don’t know, could be fun. Love a bit of a demo.’ 

‘We’re not at uni now, Suz. This feels like trouble to me.’ 

‘Oh come on, Jen,’ she replied, ‘At least let’s go and show them some support. We can stay on the fringes if you’re worried.’ 

Grabbing our coats, we made our way to the source of the noise, increasing in volume with every step. As we opened the door of our office block, shouts of ‘Black Lives Matter’ and ‘Say no to Racism’ assailed our ears. It seemed as if the whole World was in our city, protesting inequality and racism, waving placards and blowing horns. ‘I thought vuvuzelas had been banned,’ I shouted above the cacophony. 

‘Only at football grounds. Come on, this is exciting.’ Susie grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the middle of the horde, surging towards the park. 

‘I’m not sure about this,’ I yelled, as we were lifted from the ground and swept along, a riptide which threatened to engulf us. Ahead, I could see the statue of a man. People had started to throw ropes around it, and began pulling with superhuman strength. We watched as the statue toppled to raucous cheers. I didn’t understand. I walked past that statue every day. ‘Why have they done that? I don’t even know who that is.’ 

‘Edward Colston, founder of the city,’ said a man with a bloodied nose, ‘Made his money as a slave trader - 84000 people he transported. Doesn’t deserve a statue.’ 

‘You’re right,’ I shouted, helping to roll the statue towards the harbour, ‘Come on, Suz!’ I smiled as I sat in the police van. That splash would live with me forever. 

Published in Issue #23

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