England is not a land of opportunity anymore, minorities are being sent home, soon a soldier will come to my door, and escort me to the docks, but I will not be here. Africa is not a homeland for Negroes anymore, famine, death and Aids welcome all at its ports. No economy and no law has made Africa the place Negroes die to avoid.
Anyone who reads this, move on, England is for the whites.
Daniel Matoka, 19 March 2019
In the future I see naught but blood, death, tears. I see loss. The wars have started and Leicester is burning to the ground. Forcing Asians out of there homes and livelihoods are soldiers armed for combat, machine gun fire is rampant, I can hear the cracks of guns popping in the night like fire crackers. The rumble of the tanks mowing through the main street causes my table to shudder across the floor, the ink well tips onto its side and careens across the table and I grab it quickly before it can make the final inch and tumble to the floor. Ink is hard to come by, the black market can not afford to trade it for fear of being caught, minorities are not allowed to document anything in England anymore. I saw a man on Thursday who was hung in public for writing a love letter to his wife in Africa, the guy screamed her name on his last breath, reaching out for her as his legs kicked and struggled pulling the noose tighter around his neck, I’ll never forget that day, that name “Madera.” They left him there hanging until his neck was stretched as far as it could go; we all had to pass it on our way home.
I'm part Irish, my mother hails from Ulster, my father from Zimbabwe, soon the police will be arresting me, soon I'll just disappear. Politically I'm just a technicality, something that makes the governments plans all the more complicated, the Chinese for China, English for England, Africans for Africa, where the hell am I supposed to go? The government seem to have a solution for that, people dissappear almost everyday now. But if you think I'm going to just sit here and wait for them then you've got another thing coming. Tomorrow my wife and I will--
"Danny what in the hell do you think your doing? Is that ink?"
I look up and see Cerys peeping through the battered door her eyes as wide as coins.
"Do you know what could happen to us if you are caught with that? They could send the police at any time you fool!"
I push the ink and quill to one side still grinning at the strange instrument we had taken to using, pens were near impossible to get these days. Cerys creeps in almost shaking in horror and stands over me her caramel skin glowing.
"If you expect to last through this then you gotta get with the system"
The system? I just look at her for a second taking in her fear and her words. "Get with the system?" I stand quickly, brushing quill shavings from my shirt and reaching across the table to grab her arm and pull her closer. "You just don't get it. Two years woman and you still don't get it!"
I've never seen her look so shocked, her green eyes widen and glint with unshed tears, in twenty years of knowing her i've never laid a hand on her so help me God, but she was still in denial, still thought things would get better.
"They took your mother, they took your sisters, your father and uncles, everyone you know is gone and you still think things will get better? This isn't the kind of thing thats going to get better Cerys, it can only get worse"
I shoved her away disgustedly watching as she stumbeled toward the door, her sobs seemed to echo through my mind as she slammed the door and ran down the hall. Sighing I slumped down into my chair and put my head in my hands, anyone would think it was the 1940's.