Racism Within

• Cara Widdicombe, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

The white sheen that surrounded me was like a haze that blocked my vision.
All around me was the same white, stark glow, intruding my train of thought. I was moving through the white cloud, to a destination I did not know.
Slowly, the white mist began to form distorted, disfigured shapes. Shadow was introduced into the blank canvas and the figures began to gain perspective.
Colour timidly arose into the mixture. Pale shades of blonde and grey began to intertwine through, silently finding their place.
Blonde lines formed thin strands; long, yet defined. Grey formations grew into circles among the starkness; uneven, contoured and yet precise.
And then I understood.
These figures are human bodies. These bodies have identical hair and eyes, and were staring directly towards me.
Slowly, grey lines of contrasting dimensions warped into this strange place - like airborne ribbons, circling and dancing an identical choreography through the open, white air.
They ended their performance, settling upon the alienated humans' faces. Only then did I come to the realisation that these dancing ribbons were human mouths.
They were talking. Talking to me. Their eyes glared and their mouths danced, while I watched in agonising terror.
"Black!" Suddenly, there was an excruciating pang of pain in my chest and I dropped to the floor. Whilst on my knees, a high-pitched, deafening tone rang through my ears; a muffled chant, breaking the deafening silence.
"Black!" The word pulsated through my veins, I closed my eyes to escape the fearsome reality that I was caged within. "Black, black!" The voice was joined by others, the chant grew to a deafening roar. "BLACK! BLACK! BLACK!" I opened my eyes to see their mouths yelling, their eyes staring and their fingers pointing.
The sea of white bodies in this terrifying, blank world grew larger and larger. Wherever I looked, a pair of eyes stared, and lips danced to the song of death.
The bodies that surrounded me now towered over my limp figure. Unexpectedly, I felt a force under my elbows; a strong, violent force, which lifted my naked and exposed body off the ground.
I was amongst thousands upon thousands of white bodies; being lifted and touched by their white hands. I was carried throughout the white space to an open area, where they released me. I fell to the floor in agony; my vision blurred and ears ringing. White figures danced around my limp body, proudly watching my every move.
I was trapped. I was imprisoned, targeted and being tortured, and I knew there was no escape.
Their anger rose to a frightening level; their chants simply pulses of sound piercing through my body. Suddenly, the sea of bodies parted directly in front of me, creating a pathway.
And at the end of the pathway, I saw hope.
There was a tiny speck of black - alone, slumped over and tired. I picked up my broken body and ran towards it. I soon realised it was running towards me, too.
An overwhelming sense of relief overcame me. I realised that this black speck was not chanting, not glaring, not pointing and not white. I reached to touch it; to feel acceptance - but alas; I felt the cool, smooth surface of glass.
At once, silence prevailed. I could no longer distinguish any bodies amongst the white mist. The chanting had stopped, leaving a high-pitched ring penetrating my ears.
I turned back towards the mirror, staring at myself. I was faceless, small and tired, sitting on the ground of this white room. A lone, black figure with its shadow.