Don't Open The Well
Page 4
Chris stood where he was, unmoving.
“You looking for some ice?”
The man, who looked just as pale and goggle-eyed as many of the other residents he had seen, smiled. Chris saw he was missing his front teeth, making him appear much older than he must have been.
Chris shook his head, shocked at what he had just heard, “No, I don’t do that shit!” He turned and walked off, pushing through the double doors into the casino, feeling anger boiling up through his veins. It seemed everywhere he went; his people were willingly filling their bodies with poison. He didn’t see the attraction himself, but somehow he knew why many of his brethren had chosen to immerse themselves in drugs and alcohol. The pain and anguish they still felt at their humiliation and eradication from their lands by the white man still burned as brightly as it always had and with unemployment figures in the reservation soaring, there was no hope for the Whayani tribe.
Little by little, they were destroying what remained of their heritage. He gritted his teeth as he heard the beeping and buzzing of the gambling machines and the raucous cheers of the casino denizens. This is what they had been reduced to.
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