Choose Carefully

This was it, the final debate. He had to do everything he could to win, his ways were better, his plans for this great country were better. They would certainly be united under his rule. He just had to win. That shouldn’t be too hard; she wanted to do away with abortion! How could she be a woman and not support abortion? That was practically unheard of! He smirked when the crowd booed her when she mentioned banning abortion. This was it, she had practically handed him the victory on a silver platter. All he had to do was let her open her mouth. She may have been being honest, but she was always saying something that could be so easily twisted around and turned against her. It was way too easy; he practically had this in the bag. And then, it was his turn.

The audience watched with baited breath as he spoke, he was so eloquent, so calm, so laid back, and was offering everything they wanted! Abortions, euthanasia, equal rights, free health care, a raise in minimum wage, and so much more! He clearly wanted what was best for the people; he wanted them to have the best of everything. On top of that, he was just so charming, and so educated. He had an aura of confidence; it just felt so good to be in his presence. He had won many people to his side just with his confidence and his charm. There really wasn’t that much of a question of who was going to win. There was no doubt, he would win. And he spoke to the audience, reminding them of what she was offering for their future, taking away everything he vowed to keep running. They had something great, why change it for some old-fashioned system? They were progressing forward, not backwards. The audience laughed, this was it, he had them wrapped around his finger.

He stood on the balcony as the judge swore him in. There were thunderous cheers when he finished the oath. A grand party took place that evening, and he accepted congratulations all around. He had done it, he had made into office.

Later that night, he crept up to an attic room, a lone window on the far wall with the curtains closed. He gripped the curtains, and pulled them down, revealing a grotesque painting of a hideous figure. He grinned at the disaster known as his soul, so many lies, so much blood spilled to get where he wanted to be.

“This land is my land,” he chuckled cruelly as he threw the curtains back over the painting. He left the attic, ready to show the world what kind of a tyrant he really was.


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