here;
stealing smiles.

just close your eyes

3:28 pm (; i finally finished my SIA properly. welll... here goes.
&&& no laughing pleaaase.



Cultural Prejudice.

Hate, is a funny thing. It can traverse through years, through countries. Time, space, people, in the wrath of hate, all these can mean nothing.

Lincoln sat, in a dingy corner of the hideout. The hideout where the few African Americans left in New York sought refuge. Riots were tearing up the streets everyday, protesting against the decision that the central government had made. That all beings were equal. ‘Blacks’ were hiding and leaving the city as soon as they could as riots turned the city upside down. Flames, fights, fear; all these raised the tension in the city to an unbelievable high. Lincoln and his family were the one of the five cities left to face the disintegrating city. They had wanted to leave, but few ships were available and the prices were exorbitant. Lincoln’s family: his sick mother and sister could not afford to pay the tens of thousands of dollars that could save their lives.

The orange streetlights cast an eerie glow to the ghostly city. The streets were empty, except for the dead and dying. And Lincoln. Lincoln was walking to the only grocery store left after thirty years ago, when everything had been modernized and vending machines took the place of supermarkets. However, you could only get medicine from either the grocery store or clinics, and clinics were run by ‘whites’. Whites who would rather let an innocent person die than sell medicine to a black man. Lincoln’s heart burned as he scowled, the bitterness he had felt for the last few months pouring into an ugly twist of his face.

Suddenly, Lincoln bumped against someone. Icy fear froze his heart but not his limbs as he quickly slunk into the shadows of a back alley. When he was quite sure he was invisible, he looked out to see who he had bumped into.

Amber whirled around and gasped. Who had bumped into her? The streets were bare and still, the wind was whispering and leaves rasped against the pavement. There was no one, no sound. But Amber was sure that someone had touched her. She felt the warmth of human heat and yet not a soul was out here. Goosebumps trailed their way up her bare arms. She stalked away quickly, her thoughts in turmoil. Could it be one of those ‘blacks’, no, African Americans, left in the city? Amber had sworn to herself that she would never disrespect another human being. As long as he or she was human, they were equal, regardless of their skin colour. It made no difference to her and it drove her crazy to see people dying, killing just because someone was not like them. Just because someone was another colour. There was no difference! Amber screamed fiercely for justice in her heart as tears fought their ways to her eyes, as they always did when she thought about this.

Lincoln saw the pretty ‘white’ girl start to cry and he wondered if he should step out of the shadows, show himself to her and comfort her, telling her that it was just him who bumped into her. The thought was shoved aside by another that laughed and yelled “ Who do you think she’ll be more afraid of? Ghosts, or you? After all, to her you just another one of her slaves, just like your ancestors were hundreds of years ago.” The spiteful voice went on and on till Lincoln could stand it no more. The internal battle stopped the second he stood out into the streetlight and said.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you. It was an accident.”
Amber looked at the tall guy standing in front of her. Vaguely, she realized that he was black; he might hurt her and that she should do as she was told, scream for help and run away. Yet, all there thoughts seemed rather foolish and feeble. She extended her hand and said “Hello, I’m Amber. It was probably my fault anyway. I was thinking and walking so I didn’t notice or think that someone would be out at.” she glanced at her watch and finished, “three am in the morning.”

Lincoln found himself staring blankly at her, She did not run away, she did not scream not did she attempt to kill him. In fact, she seemed to be trying to make friends. But the spiteful side of him reacted before the friendly side did and spat out, “Haven’t you white people always thought that we were slaves and dirty? So why shake hands now?” He regretted it the second the words were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. He just shook his head and walked away, his head drooping as he remembered her shocked and devastated expression.

“Wait. Please.”

It was a wonder how those two simple syllables could cause him to stop. However, he did and Amber rushed forward to explain.


“I’m not like that. Some people are not like that. I think that we should all be equal.”

Somehow, her sympathetic reassurance only made Lincoln angrier than he already was.

“Look around you. All these deaths. All these fights, We are being discriminated against in every possible way. Yet you can stand here and tell me that we are equals. That some people are not like that. What good is it if some people are not like that? You don’t have to sneak out in the middle of the night at 3 am to get medicine for your mother, you don’t suffer, having to hide and hide when you haven’t done anything wrong! Look at your clothes, look at mine! We’re in totally different worlds. I’m being discriminated against because of my skin colour. Well you think I chose to be this way? You think any of my brothers and sisters chose to be this way? Think again! The only hard thing you’ve ever faced is probably sneaking out at night to go for your walk. I have to sneak out ever night and I’m not doing it for fun like you are. I have to fight to live.”

All he had ever felt against this prejudice was pouring out of him in an unstoppable tirade. Try as he might, even Lincoln could not stop himself. He was too angry, too tired and he had enough. Amber just picked an unfortunate timing. When Lincoln stopped, his chest was heaving and he’s expression was vulnerable; lost. He looked like a little kid again.

Amber’s heart went out to him. She had no idea how it was yet she felt strangely connected to him. Like they could understand each other completely. She gently patted him on the shoulder, trying to console him, though half expecting him to shift away. To her surprise, he did not flinch but started crying instead. Amber didn’t say anything, but just sat beside him and comforting him with an occasional murmured word.

The two strangers sat side by side on the pavement and talked till the sun rose. The sun’s crimson burst of colour added a magnificent radiance to the dawn and to their moods. While watching the sun rise, Amber found herself smiling at Lincoln as she impulsively took his hand. They exchanged awkward but happy smiles though the conversation slowed to a standstill. Suddenly, Lincoln jumped to his feet.

“I… I have to go. I can’t be seen. I’ll be killed.” He stammered and sprinted off. Amber stood up and watched him run off, her silhouette a shadow of loneliness as the sun rose and she stood alone.

They met every night and talked. The days seemed to pass in months, not hours when they met, yet minutes dragged on for hours when they were apart. Unknowingly, they had fallen in love.

Something else had happened unknowingly too. The riots ceased, day by day. The occasional ones were controlled by policemen. Lincoln once permanent frown relaxed into a bright smile as he realized that he could walk down the street without danger; that he could send his mom to the clinic and that he could have friends with ‘whites’. He still found it strange that he was accepted, that he no longer had to hide. But day by day, he found it normal. He found his confidence and love again, he found a new life.

From year 2038 to 2042, the cultural war and riots waged their misery on the world, especially New York City. But it was now finally over.

Nowadays, racist comments would still be shouted sometimes when Amber and Lincoln strolled down the streets smiling blissfully, hand in hand, but those times were few; and they were easily forgotten and forgiven. After two years secret love, they too, could find acceptance together.

Love, is a funny thing. It can traverse through years, through countries. Time, space, people, in the passion of hate, all these can mean nothing.