The first thing you should know is that I love writing and reading fiction. So, I’m gonna introduce myself the only way I know how: writing a story. You’ll get to see my political views as well! Isn’t it exciting… Yay, politics… It’s harder than it should be to write sarcasm.
The story below is mostly fiction, as the Trumpocolypse hasn’t happened yet.
It was on 28 January 2017 that Donald Trump, newly elected president of the United States, launched the first Nuclear Missiles.
The attack was expected and dreaded by many, because Trump had told the public before he would use nuclear weapons if needed, stating that, ‘If we don’t use them, why do we build them?’, but the target was a complete surprise. Trump would later tell the public the country used to be the USA’s ally, yes, but by not publicly supporting him had betrayed their alliance. It mattered not. His supporters turned their opinions faster than the public raised their pitchforks, and Trump was de-elected by an age old agreement that had not been used since the concept of presidency was first thought of.
It made no difference to the girl sobbing in a corner of her destroyed house in the Netherlands, dying of radiation poisoning. She had been living a good life at only thirteen years old, she had a loving mother, four caring half brothers who she barely saw but were still nice to her and a cat. She had a loving father in America who may have been a stereotypical redneck but that didn’t matter because he loved her and his extended family in America, and a half sister in Amsterdam. She was smart and got good enough grades at school, innovative and creative even if a bit antisocial and silent. Her classmates had been friendly, which was a whole lot more than her other classmates had been in elementary school, and even if she was barely friends with them she had friends a few cities away. She was naturally curious, an explorer, with as goal to travel the world and record her findings with a camera. She had a wonderful life ahead of her and a list of things she wanted to do in her life, at the top of which was becoming a shapeshifter. She was okay with being having Asperger, she could live with the constant tiredness, after all she had lived thirteen years with it. She didn’t care about the unexplainable headaches she always got or that she showed many signs of having ADHD. She grew up with the mentality that anything was possible, and if she was a bit poor well that didn’t matter to her, because she had more than enough food and water and a house and school and clothes and even an Archery membership and a phone and piano lessons every Wednesday and there were so many people so much worse off and she wasn’t ready to die…
Her mother had been at the office in Amsterdam, doing volunteerwork to get the work experience on her record so she could get payed work in a few years. Her half-sister lived there too, and her four half-brothers had been in North-Holland too for some kind of party. She had been home alone in the other side of the country when the bomb hit North Holland, and her family.
The shockwave destroyed the half of North Holland, and radiation took care of the rest of the Netherlands. She was pretty sure the sea life around the country was radiated too, and however much of an animal lover she was she couldn’t cry much more at that particular moment. She wasn’t even sure what she was crying about now. Maybe the fact she could’ve done so much more with her life, or her dead family, or her poor father who had already lost so much. She wondered, in her last moments, if one of the superheroes she always read about would save her. She wondered, in her last moments, if one of the characters she wrote fanfiction about would come to say goodbye. She wondered, in her last moments, if the pain in her chest would go away if she let go. She wondered, in her last moments, if someone would ever tell her story. She wondered, in her last moments, if she should hate Trump for what he did, for taking her future away from her. But she didn’t feel any hatred. She was only tired.
And she closed her eyes.
Okay, so maybe I have a flair for dramatics…