Sunday, 10 December 2006
07:02:22 AM (GMT)
We stopped in Washington. they let me out of the boot and held a knife to my thorat
and marched me along the parade.
My tuquiose top ruined, nothing would get blood out, my blue skirt with black leggind
were loose and cut and smelt like smoke, i was a mess, my cut on my throat was
healing, it was scabbing and it itched.
"Oi you, black person!" Yelled the man holding me and the knife. Several people black
and white turned to stare, i could see my father in the crowd, he was weeping his
"Oh my dear, look at that poor girl." said a black elderly woman.
"That poor girl's my daughter." my father sobbed. A few people comforted him.
"I am Martin Luther King, and you are needing?" The great man himself asked.
"I want you to stop all this peace stuff and i'll let this girl live and let her go."
The man said. He was scaring the grip on the knife tightened he edged it closer to my
throat, agian i could feel blood trickle down my throat.
"Let her go, and i'll think about it." Martin said calmly. The man let me go and
threw me to the ground, i tried to crawl away but the had hold of my leg, the cut it,
and let me go. I got up and ran to my dad who had stretched out his arms for me, but
i fell the cut was too deep, i saw nothign but black i heard Martin say... "This
peace march will never end even if you kill all of us here right now, there are more
of us around the world than there are of you. Right infront of me." I collapsed i
struggled a few peopel hovered over me, Martin Luther came over to rescue me, the
ambulance was there. I woke in hospital.
"Oh Ria, i thought we's lost you, i would never forgive myself if we did." Leesa
said. She was stroking my hair.
"Lee, you know i'm strong as a whippit." I laughed, bleak smiles all round turned to
Thomas, my eldest showed me a crystal necklace. "It's from him." He nodded and there
he was The Most Spectaculair Man ever, Martin Luther King.
"I hope you'll be ok Miss Bolton?" he asked me. "That necklace was donated by every
black and white person in the street and a few more from the people who saw it on
television." He paused. "I may have donated a few hundred, but it's all yours." He
laid it down on my cover, and walked out.
"That man, is the greatest you'll ever meet, Rihanna." My mother wept. i checked my
hair, it was clean of blood, my clothes were clean too.
"My clothes, how did they get the blood off?" i asked bewildered. My dad shook his
"They didn't clean it, they threw them away and bought some more." He said.
Not understanding what he ment, then i realised.
"Where's Bertie?" i asked. Bertie was my brother they was 14 and the youngest boy in
"Bertie's dead, sweetheart." My mum soothed, Dead? i bet i knew who killed them.
The End.... Or Is It?