Project Imagination

Chapter 13

The story of President Grey

Location: James Home Date: 12/18/2011 Time: 9:12 pm

I watch as my son bolts through the back door. I wanted him to be brave, to be safe. The man nearby laughs. I turn to him.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You really think that can save him?"

"No, but he'll be fine for now."

"Zachary Ryan James."

"How do you know my name?"

"You know, you're wife is very beautiful......"

"Don't you dare!"

"Such a shame." The man says, he snaps his fingers. The two men point their guns at my wife, and shoot her. I watch in horror and rage as they shoot her. There was nothing I could do. I felt hopeless. As her body falls limp something snapped inside of me. I felt stronger. I turned to him, and started laughing.

"What are you laughing at?!"

I don't answer.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!"

I still don't answer.

"WHAT THE F..." The man tries to say before I quickly punch him in the gut. He man spits out a little blood, but I don't care. Nothing matters to me anymore. The man snaps his fingers and those two men point their guns at me. One of them fires, and I act like I got shot. "Never try to hurt me again." the man says, "I believe you remember my name, oh wait you dead." As he turns away I start laughing again. I sit up and hold out my hand, I show the bullet I caught, the bullet he thought killed me with.

"How did you?"

"You know, you shouldn't have done that." I say as a quickly disarm one of the men he had brought with him, "Well, Jordan Michael Straeten, get out of my house before you regret it."

I look at Jordan. He looks calm. Did my words not phase him? Why was he standing there as still as a statue? Jordan reaches for something in his grey suit. He pulls his hand out to reveal a small microchip. "What is that for?" I ask. He laughs like he didn't believe I had no idea what it was. Then it hits me. "Wait, is that, the same microchip?" I ask, sweat dripping down my face. He nods. This was bad, the microchip was from a security camera, that showed me killing an innocent man. If he showed it to the police, I could get discharged, or worse. I quickly grab one of the men's guns. I aim, and fire. He dies within a few seconds of the bullet piercing his chest. I had to get away, I have to start a new life.

Five Years Later

It's been five years. I've changed my name to Robert H. Grey. I started a new family about a year after that fateful day, sadly about three months ago my new wife died of cancer. Now I'm on my own, with my son and daughter. "Hey dad!" My son says, relieving me of my train of thought. I look at my son, Shaymen.

"Yes, son?"

"Sis says there's a woman wanting to see you."

"Did you let her inside?"

"I didn't want to, but sis let her in."

"Well, shouldn't keep our guest waiting."

"She's in the parlor." Shaymen replies. I walk through our nice house to the parlor. When I get there, a woman is standing there, looking at the picture of my wife and me. She turns to me. She looks so familiar. She tells me her name, and then I remember. She's one of the Democratic candidates for the election. We end up talking and I find out what she wants.

"You want me to be you're running mate?"

"Yes, and Vice-president if we win."

"I accept," I say excitedly. This is just what I needed, something to keep my mind off of the pain of life. When she leaves my daughter walks up to me.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Alice?"

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"Ok, now what is it I can do for you."

"Are you helping her?"

"Yes, and if we win, we're going to be in the white house."

"That sounds fun!"

"Yes."

"I wish mom was here to see it." my daughter replies. This hit me hard. I can't think straight, but I reply, "Yes, but God is taking good care of her now." My daughter nods and goes upstairs. I sit down in a red armchair. I begin to contemplate my life. I open a cooler I find nearby, I take a beer out, and start drinking. "I can't give up." I say.