The tall, fair haired man lay in his bed exhausted from his tiring job, where it seemed that all his hard work and preparations were thrown away daily. When he slept, he was tormented from memories of the war. Whenever he closed his eyes he could feel the sand in his face and hear the shouting and despair. It was almost as if he was tortured by stress be it awake or asleep. Soon enough though, he fell asleep, ready for work.
The alarm clock blared before the sun had risen, and the man issued only a faint grunt saying to himself, ‘five more minutes.’
Five minutes passed. Fifteen minutes had passed. Two hours had passed.
The alarm blared once more and the man yelled in frustration shouting, ‘I’m going to be late, I’m going to miss congress!’
He dressed himself and ran out of the door, without a care if or if he didn’t lock it, or for the matter, even close it. Even taking the bus was out of his mind and he just ran all the way from his house towards congress without being too exhausted as he was young and in good health. However, he only got to sit down for a few moments before he got up to give his speech. As he got up and walked towards the front, no one even looked, they just kept chatting or playing games on their phones.
‘Good morning, honorable delegates of congress,’ he said with slight glee.
‘It’s twelve-fifteen! It’s not morning!’ one congress member shouted.
After he paused for a bit after having been humiliated by one of his peers he continued with a more stern, stricter tone,
‘Good afternoon. As you all know, country is once again edging on war and we cannot risk instability in the region again. We all remember the failed intervention nineteen year ago and now…’
He was abruptly interrupted by a chorus of laughter from the congress with one person shouting,
‘Get off you Communist hippie!’
He was so traumatised that he just walked off, exited the room and ran home, choking back his tears. He ran through his door which he only now noticed he had left open, slammed it shut and collapsed on the floor of his living room. He just thought to himself, ‘I’m a failure, I’m a failure! I…’ something had caught his eye: a headline. ‘4 MORE YEARS SHE VOWS.’ The man wiped his tears with a new goal in mind and a new determination. ‘If I can’t the country from ruining itself, then there is only one option left.’
He took himself to the streets, with scruffy hair, an uneven tie and untucked shirt. He took himself to the Town Square and attracted a large crowd. Here people would listen to him without laughing. Here people would applaud instead of roll their eyes. He spoke for two hours, and yet no one lost interest. It became clear that the people were with him.
‘UNDERDOG SWEEPS SUPER TUESDAY,’ ‘PRESIDENT UNDER PRESSURE,’ all the headlines of all newspapers read. Within only four months he had gained support from North to South, including places which usually vote Red. A huge crowd was gathered outside his hotel, cheering, eager for him to speak, even though no event was planned there. He was followed around like he was a magnet.
‘Well, that’s a lot of people,’ he told his campaign manager. ‘I can’t believe I’ve gone from speaking to just a few hundred people in my hometown to now address a crowd of ten-thousand people,’ he said with slight disbelief. He straightened his tie, tucked in his shirt and went outside for his speech. Just as he exited he was greeted with cheers, applause and general happiness.
He began speaking with enthusiasm, ‘Good morning ‘The Sunny State!”’
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