She didn’t remember the last election, not really. She remembered thinking that they both had funny names, and voting for Peter Pan when asked who she wanted to win, but that was all. She had been too young to care then. She cared now. She had no memory of another president, and the change itself sounded scary, but the candidates were worse.
She knew it would be bad from the beginning. She heard stories, a man who hated because of love, a woman who killed because of speech. It bothered her, but not much. It didn’t feel real yet. They were names and faces, jokes and punchlines.
The jokes got worse, more threatening. He was called awful things, and she felt bad for him. She didn’t find the jokes funny. She saw the truth behind them, though, who he really was and what he really did, and she didn’t find them funny. She hated him.
She heard more about the woman, Ms. Blue, she called her. She was a lier, a criminal, and a killer, but she was not as threatening. Ms. Blue was a terror, but hiding behind a kind face. The girl hated her, but was too afraid of the man, Mr. Red, and what he stood for.
There was more and more news of their atrocities, a new death, a new lie. She would worry, she would cry. She could not dispel the fear that hung over her like a cloud, but it was an abstract one, akin to a frightening memory.
Then more news came. Mr. Red said things, promised things, that she knew would hurt her. He promised to act against her, she who was just a girl, her friends, some even younger, adults and couples. Infants. He promised to make their country great once more, but she knew he meant great for him. For him and his ilk, the ones who were right and pure in his eyes. Her fear grew.
She saw people saying they didn’t care who won, saw people saying they were for Mr. Red. She heard horrors come from her families mouths, stories and tales, opinions and facts. She hated it all. She wished that it would all go away. She was so young and felt she was in so much danger.
She cried. She cried for her friends, for those like her, those who may be hurt, those who had been hurt. She cried out in hopelessness, she cried out in despair. She hurt, knowing that the oh so small victories that they had won before might be torn away. She hurt, knowing that her brothers and sisters and siblings might be killed.
The girl didn’t believe in a god of any sort, but she prayed anyway. She prayed to every god she could name, “please, help us. Please, keep us safe. Please, I’m so scared.” She knew they were both monsters. Ms. Blue was a trickster, cloaked in lies, hiding crimes and felonies, masking hate where no one could see it. But Mr. Red was worse. There was no deceit. He was a demon, a devil, the creature under her bed. He was a corpse, rotten and rank, flesh crawling with bugs. He was all the fear in the world, condensed into one being. He was destruction and hatred, where he walked, footsteps of flame burned the ground.
The day drew near, and the nation was still undecided. She prayed that he would lose, prayed to Fortuna, and God, and Ra, and any other deity she could think of. It was the day of the election, and she heard her parents talking about it. She was filled with fear. It felt real now.
That night, everyone was worried. Few were free of anxiety, and many were terrified. Her chest ached, physically hurt, from worry. She didn’t know what would happen. There was still time. She hoped there was. She hopes there is.
It hasn’t been announced, and this girl is still panicked, pleading and praying, begging that she and hers will be safe, that they will not be hurt by these people. She and so many are waiting for the news. They are waiting to find out if the world had condemned them or not.
Even if you do not believe in a greater power, a divine entity, or anything of that sort, please pray with us and for us. We are the ones you love. We are your friends, your coworkers, your neighbors. We are your children and grandchildren. We are humans, and we are afraid.
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
pixelskylines