WASHINGTON, JANUARY 20, 2056 – In the immediate of truth, our novel President delivered. At Inaugural Address, a Nation shocked with forebears came sputtering and hissing into the glossy future. Many onlookers shouted and turned, and as if gas parted to allow passage to the high. The next day seized! Brilliance!
Indeed, a rousing Speech, in my nonpartisan frankly. Grand, grand alludings to upbringing and what was lost. Hand over fist. He spoke and we visioned, O, upbringing! O, mother! My recollectance but exter-selective. Mother at the table, mother at the washer. Great, patriotic mother. Mother everywhere with pride and care. How she worked for me, us. In instance, in essence… mom folding my sheets as I packed my bags to move out far from house. Mom cleaning bile from my lips when I couldn’t keep anything down. Mom, mom warm meals. Mom, I should’ve called you more often. But I got busy, okay? I got busy, mom. I would’ve if I had known. There’s so much I would say to you if I got the 2nd chance. In essence… Oh, this is the mother of whom he speaks! I weep now for the President i.e. his Rhetoric. Biblical tears. Brilliance!
The Speech in whole rang of this exceptiallance. He spoke and we visioned of love and call. Captivating all. Unify all. Love and purpose within and I visioned the girl in the nonfiction section at the library before it was cratered. Dark, dark, deep eyes re: affixing eyes. Hair all in a desert twister (haboob). Some sort of a whisper, even secret for a library. Stolen moment, laughing in the face of whatever miserable light had been pulling me. Enquickened love. Panicked love. Kill or “be killed” love. Hours since spent hungering, terrifying over minced details. Give it to me! Give it here, me; crushing, damning love! Ah, yes, this is the love and the call as to which the President beckons! Nation will be one under the umbrella of my mystery girl with black hole eyes! True duty reigns at last / screaming with my vote. Politics powers over the soul…
Wait, days under the apple trees, like, wrestling with her. Tongues fighting for space. Wrapped up in the same chrysalis – lying to my friends. Small, darting lies. White hot, pollen caught in her duskeyes. There it is! I’m here. Yes, please let me chase this memory! What was her name? This is real. Oh, come on, it’s right in front of me. Feeling around in the dark. Follow that love. Let me shed this speech and run home.
No. That was an unintended. It’s every in a single, minute second. President speaks this holy unto all of us. We all vision in his shadow. Such Rhetoric. Quite impressive. She’s gone now, though; leaves on the concrete stirred by wind of Rhetoric stand still. It’s fine — she existed for this. She was drawn from me for the Nation. President can use this well. I’m full only of this love, love for cause, and no longer of complex, spiky chrysalis love. Surveying crowd, every in attendance visioned of love. Visioned in own special ways. But all for same. Selfish love becomes selfless love. Purpose.
At final, President spoke of embarrassment, at National scale, and we visioned. I visioned of grade school, in third period, when at presentation, I became nervy and soiled myself. In front of the whole class I soiled myself. Burning ears. Scalding in my throat. Palms sealed with welling. Don’t take me here, please. Every seen. Every heard. All, ALL around. Shooting with scorn. Please don’t. Robust, rich cackle booming ALL AROUND. I may burst! O, the casting beam – ant under magnifying glass style agony. Please! Look at them! Look at them out there! Only mouths visible, chattering and biting from behind veiled. Squint and the pain takes shape. It’s not me, is it? No, it’s other. It’s my turn to point. Such dare they possess. How could they? Down at speaker notes on card in hand – alien scars, written with pen-breaking force. It’s alphabet soup; letters form hurt. My slideshow is gore. Now is the time to act, flip the mirror, capture their jeers. Out there, I can see them i.e. the enemy. Despair reverberates. Wear it on your sleeve, brand it in your flesh. Thank you for the indignation, President. All my thoughts are cherry stem tied to knots with tongue. Made presentable. Impressive, beautiful, Rhetoric makes me.
President concludes with exclamation, and we vision no more. Now we get vision. I’m sorry mom, I failed you. I’m sorry mystery girl, but I must forget you – I love this more. They humiliated us; I’ll take them.
Ave Halycian reporting.
Cormac Abbey is a junior Television & Digital Media Production major who abundance majesty wowzers! You can reach Cormac at [email protected].