It began as a peaceful protest in the heart of Melbourne’s Central Business District.
It was a drab, melancholic day and people of different ages and backgrounds blended together in a sea of red to boycott the barbaric horse racing industry.
Despite the belief that this was a peaceful demonstration, there was a collective nervous energy in the morning air. Sensing the impending commotion, policemen wore concerned looks as they hastily gripped their weapons and intervened.
Feeling threatened, the crowd roared, like wild animals defending their prey. Muddy footprints littered and trudged on the concrete floor. They had become the very thing they were fighting against – barbaric and cold-blooded.
It was supposed to be a peaceful protest, but it resulted in a tumultuous blood bath.
Two critically injured by means of stampede. People scattered like mice.
One policeman stood still, his boots frozen to the floor, his sympathetic nervous system activated.
‘Is this how the horses feel when they race?’ he thought, quietly terrified.