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200 word fictional account of...
A person who participated in the pulling down of the statue of Edward Colston in Bristol:
 
 His face bares down on me every day, his face of smugness, face of arrogance, the face that condemned thousands to a life of pain and suffering and it makes my blood boil. Why should he get to be remembered, lording over us as if he didn’t slaughter our ancestors? It’s sickening.  Think of all the wrong he did- welcoming slaves into the depths of hell, where they were worked to death and were treated like animals. Now he is rendered a hero. It’s as if his wrong doing were torn out of the pages of history and those of us that remember the truth are ridiculed, written off as crazy for wanting justice to be served.
I want, I need, I must do something. Change is too slow coming. Resilient, resourceful people, those are the ones who will make a difference. There’s so much I want to do but the support must be there. Thousands are like me, feel my pain, but will they be willing to join me? I hope so. It must start with the statue; I will tear it down with my teeth if I have to. Send it crumbling to the ground where it belongs.
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