New Haven was on fire. Screams and cries shot out at me from all directions. I ran as fast as I could down the middle of the street, glancing left and right I saw atrocities no man should know. Instead I tried to close my eyes as well as I could without becoming completely blind to where I was going. I felt a burst of heat and light to my left, but I kept running. Occasionally a body would fall from the sky; I’d jump over these whenever I had to. Running, never stopping. Go, go, go! Don’t look around. The wind whipped at me through gaps in the skyline, blind wind fury stirring the fires. Fires that made everything around them dark, pitch black. I began to recognize street names. Asher Street, Foley Street, Declan Ave, Protestant Boulevard. I turn left onto Victoria Lane as soon as I saw it. I stopped short. No fire, pitch dark. I took a deep breath and ran down the street. At the end a door was ajar and a light peaked out. I rushed inside and locked the door.
“Blind luck, Henly, complete blind luck.” Darmond laughed behind me. He was seated at a small writing table in the corner of this makeshift union headquarters. It had, six months earlier, been a preschool for inner city children, but without funding it was abandoned.
“Cool it, Darmond.”
“What? I’m just congratulating you. Haven’t you seen what’s going on out there? It’s just savage celebration! Animal jubilation! All thanks to you.” He stood up and walked over to me, dropping his sarcasm on the floor. “You.”
“Lay off. I know I screwed up bad. But it’ll all be worked out soon enough. I’m working on it.” I sat down heavily on a couch.
Darmond, my closest confidant and personal assistant, stared at me through slits in his eyes. “You’d better sleep upstairs tonight. We wouldn’t want anything happening to you, would we?” I could tell he loathed me. I deserved his hatred. I deserved everyone’s hate. I screwed up.
The whole back-story is so very convoluted and unnecessary, but I guess it’s important to know. I’ll keep it short. I was born in New Haven, Connecticut and lived here my whole life. I fought in the first Gulf War. I came home and entered into politics. I became a senator as soon as I was of age. I fought for the little guy. I was very well liked by my constituents. But reality soon hit. Special interest groups, political galas, bribes, drugs, alcohol, women; everything that was thrown at me I took gratefully. And ‘the people’ had no idea. I was elected mayor of New Haven. I was home grown royalty. The power went to my head, but I kept a solemn face in public. ‘The people’ loved me. Their support never wavered. Why would it? Outwardly I was a godsend. I was reelected four times. During my fourth term, while on vacation in the Caribbean, I discovered cocaine. That really went to my head. I came back home to New Haven with a new found urgency. Projects, projects, do this, start that, get going, move, make, do it! They started out fine and unnoticeable, public works, roads. Then we moved up to education reforms and public policy. The public was behind me all the way, unaware of my little white friend. Soon the drugs took over completely. I went out of my mind. Paranoia set in. I began diverting funds into an emergency project that I kept hidden from the public. Steadily the money poured into it, and out of the taxpayer’s pockets. But they were patient with me. I hadn’t steered them wrong yet. After months of strained optimism, I finally unveiled my great creation: a five story bronze statue of myself. Suffice it to say, the public lost their faith in me. It all went down hill from there. Rallies were held to have me impeached, death threats came in daily, panic took hold of the city. People were out on the street, no money for food or shelter. Violence became a steady backdrop of New Haven. After weeks of this, ‘the people’ finally had enough. They were out for my blood.
—–
I paced around the small room. In my mind I paced as well. In the mind of the little guy in my mind who was pacing, there was an even littler guy pacing. There is a common misconception about pacing. Most people think a pacing person is deep in thought. This is wrong. Pacing is used to disrupt thought. Pacing in your minds mind disrupts the soul. Disrupting the soul makes a body numb. That’s what I was looking for.
A deep roar washed in through the balcony door. I continued to pace. I had spent the night in the cramped room on the top floor. The room had once been a nursery for unwanted children, and now it held me. How fitting.
“Antichrist!”
“Hey, that isn’t fair. Listen now; quiet down! First, I want to say I am deeply saddened by the recent turn of events. Though I acknowledge my involvement, of which I am very sorry, it is you, all of you, who should be ashamed. You acted like children. No, animals! Childish animals! Have some pride in the human condition. It’s all ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows. And yes, we may be in a flow right now but…wait, which one is bad?”
“An ebb, you bastard!”
“Right, we may be in an ebb right now, but if we stay together, stand united, we will make it through these trying times.”
The crowd down below pulsated with dissatisfaction.
“Stop the bullshit!” * “Repent, you demon!”
“Kill yourself!”
“Burn In Hell!” “Antichrist!”
“Listen! Now, I have a three-step plan to set us right. Firstly…”
“Jump!” A voice called down below. His cry spread until the whole mob was yelling. “Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump…”
I stepped back into the room and tried to pull myself together. How rude, how thoughtless, I thought to myself. I returned. “Now, listen please. Firstly, we must…” I had to duck to avoid the shoe. Soon, various objects came flying up at me. Rocks, fruit, bricks, rolled up death threats, more shoes. I took a seat on a chair in the corner. I closed my eyes and tried to remain calm. Deep in my meditation, I felt a hand grab me. I looked over my right shoulder. “Darmond?” A tear rolled down his cheek and landed on my jacket. “Darmond, what are you…?” He slowly walked me over to the ledge. A cheer rose from the depths. Darmond was silent. “Don’t, I can fix this,” I pleaded with him. He turned his face away from me. I glanced at the bloodthirsty crowd. Darmond gave me a violent shove. I felt myself float down the side of the building very slowly. I could see each and every face, the expressions changing from disgust and outrage to orgasmic joy. They finally had me, the bastards. The mindless mob, the violent brutes. But as I passed through the air, falling to my death, I felt a certain joy. I was giving back to the community. I was giving them the security and reassurance that a public office holder should give their people. I was giving them satisfaction. Once they had me, they would tear me to pieces, and then their minds would be at ease.
~ Justin Totora
Seems reasonable.