By LV
What happened to me? I stand alone in the corner of a cold warehouse. The inscribed plinth that I once proudly stood upon is gone. My sculptured body is covered with cobwebs that no one bothers to remove.
For over a century, visitors would gather around and look up to me. To them I was a hero. They took photographs of me from all angles. Many stared at me in adulation of the feats I had performed in days long gone. My visage and attire were frozen in time to capture the essence of my professional prowess. I observed visitors from all over the world reading the words etched into a plaque mounted on the granite platform below me. The inscription extolled my incarnate accomplishments that led to the monument crowned with my sculptural embodiment.
About two or three years ago, crowds began to appear before me that were decidedly hostile for some reason. They directed their venom at me with belligerent shouts. Occasionally, I endured physical assaults in the form of thrown eggs, rotten vegetables, and rocks that defaced my body. Eventually, security guards showed up to protect me from the abusive crowds and a fence was erected around me.
Soon thereafter, I met my destiny. A truck pulled up and I was unceremoniously removed from my pedestal. A crane with long ropes hoisted me into the air and transferred me into the back of the truck, where I was covered with moving blankets. After a rough ride across city streets, I was transferred to this storage facility, where I currently reside.
Since my arrival here, other statues have joined me in seclusion. Apparently, the wave of hostility toward us continues unabated. I don’t understand what caused the change in public opinion that made me such a pariah.
So, here I remain forlorn and forsaken in this gloomy room. Perhaps, a more appreciative and perceptive public will redeem me from my solitude and allow me to see daylight once again. Until then, remember me for what I accomplished in my own time. If judged through the lens of a future generation, no statue may be safe from the fate that has befallen me. Hindsight is the bane of all public monuments unless such a view is tempered with forbearance and reason.