Short story - As the fog lifts over the snowy French Alps on a cold winter morning a small green tank becomes apparent pushing over the snow and into view.

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Short Story:

As the fog lifts over the snowy French Alps on a cold winter morning a small green tank becomes apparent pushing over the snow and into view. Then in the blink of an eye hundreds of little green men pop their heads over the rocky white hills. As the sweet sounds of the tanks roar through the French valley thousands of people flood the streets in celebration.

As the trucks, tanks and troops stormed through the village, it seemed to trigger a hope in the hearts of the young impressionable. The whole of the town rejoiced thinking that the English had come to save us. I on the other hand knew the truth.

The troops headed my way; I decided to go to the back of my shop. I had just started re-heeling one of the local’s shoes, a scruffy looking thing with no laces and rips in the side, these shoes must have been at least five years old. Just as I started hammering a nail into the cheap rubber leather, a soldier walked in, as I sharply looked up I caught a glimpse of a smartly dressed Englishman and then smacked the hammer on my thumb.

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As I stumbled into the front to the dark haired, dark skinned man. He asked politely for some laces. I reluctantly obliged, gave the man his laces and then ushered him out of the shoe. It’s bad enough having an Englishman in the shop, but a darkie it’s absolutely disgraceful. ‘Sir, if I may don’t you think that people should be judged by their personality not their colour?’

‘ Hush boy and get back to resoling those shoes.’

 The celebrations that night were enormous. Parties all night and then when everyone was asleep they drove out ...

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