Those type of people always relied on their own sort so to avoid ever being caught. There were many occasions when those that had been most affected felt those type had run as far as they could.
They stood at the precipice, left with two decisions. Jump or Admit.
Had they jumped, eyes would have followed the trajectory of the fall and flight with both pity and relief.
Admittance, recantation, or apology would have also fixated the ears of the people, like families of old that huddled around a wireless absorbing the possibly life-changing broadcast.
Many had suffered first-hand; others had only experienced the aftershocks, still bad enough. Oh, what sweet nothings it would have been to their ear and soul to hear the letters S.O.R.R.Y
Jump or Admit?
Eyes had gathered round to grab a sighting of one of these “jumps”, they had stared with a twinkle in their eye only to be left deafened and dumbstruck as they realised that the jump, was not a jump after all. It was a leap to safety; their own sort had come to save them. One of those impossible and unbelievable near life escapes where the villain is plucked from his last moment by a chopper, with a pilot wearing dark glasses.
“So much for accountability.” Sufferers would mumble as they had to once again rally up the strength to make their way down from this figurative viewing point, bracing themselves of any future interactions.
“Accept or Dream?” was a question raised by one of the sufferers.
“Never accept!” was a sole voices cry, their clenched fist viciously pumped into the air to which large numbers raucously joined in.
“Never accept but always dream.” was a lone voice in the midst of the justice seeking rallying call.
Faces turned and stared, disgusted at what seemed a cowardly retreat.
“Never accept,” was bellowed out, trying to bring this lone voice into their fold.
Others stopped and asked “Why? Why should we accept when people say, write, tweet, and post vicious, abusive, prejudicial, racist, sexist, demeaning things to list just a few?”
“Never accept!” Some hardened, not for turning sufferers screamed, cajoling the solidarity and support they yearned for.
The lone voice, calm, and unperturbed consoled the questioners “I didn’t say ‘Accept’; I said ‘Never accept but always dream.’”
The small band of sufferers stopped, and as if choreographed stepped back from the lone voice and created a small round, open area, so all could be addressed.
The lone voice slowly rotated to get a visual grasp of this self-made arena they found themselves in. North, East, South, West. They turned a complete 360, taking in the faces of interest, anger, anguish and longing.
“The system makes people accountable for what they do. We say “Make them pay for what they say!”” We have all suffered at the hands of others; and we have seen no accountability for the words, tweet, or post. We have eagerly held our breath as justice seemed to be in our grasp, yet taken away as quickly as it appeared. Yet, we should dream that we can make a difference, we can encourage change.”
The lone voice had not thought that far.
The monosyllabic word was bouncing around the ‘lone voice’ like a silver ball in a pinball machine. Lights were flashing, the left and right paddles were flapping, the machine was tilting, and dreams of hitting the ball square on, straight into the heart, JACKPOT!
“We all have a vision of making a difference and encouraging change by ourselves being accountable for what we say, tweet, or post. We actively show the superiority of those that are able to interact, communicate, debate and even argue without showering others in some venomous poison.”
“Make a difference! Encourage change!”
The sufferers felt lifted, bitterness replaced by a vision. Of course, they dreamt that the many protagonists would meet their end by either jumping or admit to what they had done.
Yet, dreams were also made that their small singular voices, united with others would bring about difference and change just as that “lone voice” had done.