Event created by richardmurray
This event begins 11/11/2025 and repeats every year forever
November 11
Veterans day is November 11th, share photos of art OR test of fiction, guest comments are allowed
The photos can be to->sculpture/knitting or sewing/graffiti/tattoo concerning Black Veterans, any country any time, any army
The text can only be fiction based on the following: Black Soldiers who fought against the USA for the british/ Black soldiers during the Haitian Freeing/ Black Seminoles during the time of osceola/jonas caballo/Black soldiers who fought for Menelik II in the first Abyssinian-italo war
story 1
story 2
STORY 1
A teenage boy sit side his parents in a living room, surfing the net while eating breakfast, the quiet is nullifying. He see a trailer for a film.
“Black people in Mexico!… you hear this”: the teenager shout.
“yes, you didn’t know, Hakim”: pleasantly inquire his mother.
Hakim father chime in a vocal gesture, a nod, and words: “Black people live, all over, the earth, always have, always will”
“You guys didn’t tell me about that”
The parents look to each other, and the father speak: “now you know”: and the father laugh.
“Can either of you tell me more about them”
“I will go make muffins Sweets”: and the father begin to leave the living room.
“Ok Cowboy…You see that envelope Hakim… yes, open it and pass me the photo inside… thank you, this is your grandfather, he fought in what you were taught is called World War 2”
“it wasn’t called that”
“not to him, he said, Black folk all around the world been at war and still at war with whites for hundreds of years, no one called that a world war… you know, he died when I was a little older than you, I missed him a lot, you want to know how I saw him later, and how it relates to Black Mexicans”
Hakim give a nod and his mother tell a story.
A girl cry in her room unaware of, what she will do or be, where she can go. She look through a photograph book and see her mother side Aunty Bessie, when they served in world war 2.
https://todaysdocument.tumblr.com/post/189791629093/ltjg-harriet-ida-pickens-and-ens-frances
She remember her father telling her: “Never join the military Dulce, never, never serve another unless it is for your own safety, don’t let your enslavers sell you their lies till you can’t eat anything else, I was forced, like many, don’t do it unless they force you to”
Dulce’s mother was less clear; she suggested to Dulce: “I know your father’s ways but no matter what you do, I will accept it”
But Dulce want to uphold her father; she want to uphold his truth; her problem is few opportunities exist outside joining up. Dulce does not want to clean homes. Dulce does not want to open doors. Dulce does not want to be a secretary. Dulce want to play basketball; no female teams exist, even though she play side all her friends in South Essex.
Dulce continue to cry, nearly twenty and unsure. The rain pour over everything outside. Dulce hear droplets from the crack in the window; she has to close the window so the rain do not come in. At the window she see an odd member in the graffiti on the back side of Uncle Benny’s Ice Cream Parlor.
It wink at Dulce; and she go outside to take the trash; her mother call out her name at the back door; she reply, just taking out the trash ma, and get a simple affirmative.
In the back alley she approach the graffiti soldier. His eyes look to her, she shuffle backward and gasp, and he speak: “Glad you came out to see me, glad you got your hood, preparation is good for any soldier”
Dulce look about worried: “am I in the Twilight Zone or something”
“No need to worry young one, but your father told me all about you”
“My Daddy… but he”
“is dead? yes, but what most of you living folk don’t know is, when a soldier dies, part of their spirit is unrest till their country is found”
“my daddy was an american citizen”
“yes, he was, but…”
“he never loved the usa”
“thus, the part of his soul that is a soldier has no country, think of it, like a spiritual veterans day, you living folk honor the soldiers who live based on your rules of citizenship, but we spirits, honor the soldiers who died based on the countries they were fighting for, take my hand”
Dulce step back again.
“I want to take you to your father”
Dulce step forward, and again, and again, and take the outstretch hand of the graffiti soldier.
Dulce and the Graffiti Soldier begin to walk in the spirit world, hand in hand.
“Don’t worry, you are only in here because of me, if you let go my hand, you will be back in the rain, no problem”
The two walk about in the forever fading world and she see soldiers, who look like her daddy in uniform.
She see soldiers from other times
She see soldiers she think is from the war between the states
Dulce see soldiers that look like the Graffiti Soldier: “they look like you”
“yes, some from the Black Brigade, most of the Ethiopian Regiment”
Suddenly, the Graffiti Soldier grab her hand tight and say: “remember, you can’t leave me”
Dulce is excited as she see her father, sitting among other troops, about a fire.
Dulce father smile bright when he see her and break to only stand firm and salute the Graffiti Soldier:“ Thank you Colonel Tye”
“No problem soldier, I wish I could leave you two alone but”
“It is alright sir, thank you for this”
“Well little one, I will sit here and you can sit beside me while you two talk”
Dulce sit side her father while the Graffiti Soldier sit as arm far as possible.
Dulce and her father hug: “Daddy I miss you”
“I know, the part of me that is your father, your mother’s husband, feels your love all the time, thank you, but know a part of me has a timeless love for you”
“Can I help with finding a country”
“Well, I know some spirits have been waiting for, well, longer than I can explain, over there are Loyalists, who fought for the British, the country they fought for may never happen, the best stories come from the Black Seminoles, their oldest ones were actually descended from loyalists who are here, can you imagine a family reunion here, truly wild”
“Well, can I come back here”
“I am being helped by my comrades to do this, I wanted to show you some of those guys over there, Warriors who fought with Jonas Caballo. They died so that Florida could be its own country, where black or indigenous people could live free absent raids or any sort of attack from the usa, they said something special happened”
“what tell me please”
“well, they say, that the people must have found a home, cause no soldier joined them who said they died out, the last soldier said they were in mexico and were heading south”
“Black people in mexico”
“well now you know, though I have seen many soldiers, I tell you, Black people live, all over, the earth, always have, always will, just like whitey, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, the whole world has native black or white people, look a little different here or there, but everywhere has black or white people”
“Should I tell ma something?”
“No need, I see her in dreams… I want you to know, the country I fought for, has never existed, but if you need to sign up, even if you know about this place, do it”
“Thanks poppa!”: Dulce embrace her father very tightly: “I still miss you”
“I know, you get back in the house ok”
Dulce feel Colonel Tye releasing his grip; she try to grab him back but rain pour on her in the back alley, instead. She stand up and lean over to get the rain from falling on her face, and enter back into the house.
“Alright everybody! muffins are made”: speak Hakim’s father, entering the living room with a warm buttery smelling plate.
He sit down and Hakim ask him as his mother begin a needlepoint: “you know the story of when Ma met OldPa”
Hakim’s father laugh.
“Ma, is this your home? thank you”
Dulce put down her needlepoint: “Well… the home soldiers fight for, thank you… soldiers die for, soldiers return from war to, is not the home of the heart, like our little apartment, it is the home for their people”
“But why didn’t you try to find that home…for our people, the home where grandpa’s spirit can be at peace”
“I think … that is what your grandpa wanted to tell me, that he will be alright, part of him has eternity to wait and pretty good company, I need to find my home of the heart first, before I can find a home for the people”
“I will find the home grandpa’s spirit can return to”
Hakim’s father hand him another muffin: “I bet you will, but put some jelly on that first”
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/
STORY 2
It is an afternoon sun through calming clouds on the private catholic school Institution Marmoutier , along the Loire river. A boy take his lunch and go to his favorite riverside, alone.
He unfurl his mat and lay on it, placing his lunch beside his head, and look to the gentle clouds, tears budding at the corner of each eye. He sniff and take out an earbud to hear a Carl Sagan recording. His dad liked Carl Sagan alot, as a kid his dad listened to Sagan with his grandfather. The youth cover his face using the back of his hand while tears flow down cheeks.
Abrupt yelling interrupt his woe. He see a girl running from other girls, and he leave his food and mat yelling: "Arrete!"/"Stop!"
He chases them to the abbey; it is quiet cause most of the students are in their rooms or the game room or cafeteria.
He go inside the abbey and silence. He see the portrait of Saint Martin, third bishop of this abbey.
And he recall his father telling him on his first day at the school.
"Souvenez-vous, soyez altruiste, comme Saint Martins"/"Remember, be unselfish, like Saint Martins"
He prayed for days that his father will recover and come home, be a veteran. He is afraid of memorial day communication from relatives in New Orleans in the USA.
Sobbing interrupt his prayers and he go to it. Nestled in a small corner of a hall is a girl his age, by her dress pattern.
He ask: "Qui a fait ça?"/"Who did this?"
The girl do not reply but the boy notice blood from her inner right thigh. He take off his jacket and put it over her and rip part of his shirt and give it to her. She wrap her thigh. A chaplain arrive. The boy is nervous. The chaplain place a calm hand up and say: "Sois calme. J'ai vu ce que tu as fait."/"Be calm. I saw what you did."
The girl rise and go to the chaplain. He whisper in her ear and she turn slightly, her hands on the jacket. The chaplain calmly dissuade her and she exits out the abbey.
"Avec moi"/"With me": gently demand the chaplain to the boy. They walk quietly through the halls and into the chapel.
"S'il vous plaît, priez avec moi, là où saint Martins a prié"/"Please, pray with me, where saint Martins did pray"
The boy at first kneel and close his eyes, peering slightly to see if the chaplain was doing similar. The chaplain smile while praying and the boy close his eyes. The silence made the boy dwell on his thoughts to his father, and he prayed in earnest after a while, and lost track of time, until.
A bell sound a new hour and he rise up.
"profiter de l'école, tout ira bien"/"profit from the schooling, all will be well"
The boy run to class, an official stand outside the classroom door he run to; his jacket is on a hanger.
"bein etudient, aller aller"/"good student, go go"
The boy put his jacket on and enter the classroom, and his day progress as most school days do.
But, in the evening at his dorm room, a knock on the door. He cut on the light and run to embrace his father.
"Vous avez laissé ça dehors"/"You left this outside "
The boy smile looking to his father and notice a wrapping; the right thigh of his father has a tight strapping.
"Oh, ma jambe, j'ai essayé de sauver la vie d'une fille, elle est morte plus tard d'une explosion, mais je jure, j'ai pensé à elle dans mon coma"/"Oh, my leg, I have tried to save the life of a girl, she is dead after an explosion, but I swear, I have thought to her in my coma"
"Merci , Saint Martins"
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
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