Irene Plax and
Pharoah Bolding

Pharoah Bolding
Inspiration piece

Irene Plax

I fell asleep listening to the President being interviewed on the radio.

“Mr. President, what about the videos of peaceful protesters being attacked by armed military guards? The videos have gone viral, and the international community is forming opinions about what is happening in your country.”

“Fake,” he says. “I can stage an event, film it, and put it on the internet too. You see? And then everyone will want to come help me. But I am a man of honor, and I will not do such things.”

“And the last report from the assassinated journalist?”

Pretty soon I am dreaming. I know it’s a dream is because I have it a lot: The streets are empty but someone is coming. I am waiting behind a corner for them. I have to kill them, and I don’t want to, but the adrenaline will carry me. The longer I wait the more excited I become to pull the trigger.

In my dream, I know this is going to change my life. I’ll be on the lam because there will be evidence against me. My mother won’t understand why I did this. I won’t either. I won’t recognize myself. I’ll lie to the radio and TV reporters. I’ll lie under oath. I will dismiss the evidence against me as being fake.

I hear rusting of trash on the ground further down around the corner. I try to wake myself up.


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