The city around him is desolate and filth has built up in the corners of buildings with boards over broken windows and doors. Many of these buildings are empty, abandoned by the people and families that once lived there when they were unable to pay the rent. Alfred limps through this new ghost town, passing a burnt out building with a crescent on the smashed sign that once announced this to be a mosque. He looks away with pain in his eyes as he continues down the street to see a clinic full of bullet holes, chalk lines of people splayed out on the sidewalk and street, no one bothered to clean up the scene after the shooting last week. The rags he has used to wrap around his hands and head show equal amounts of blood and filth as he sees evidence of people living on the streets. Little leantoes made of cardboard and trash cans. Children peer out around tarps draped in from of their openings only to be pulled back inside by invisible hands. All of them afraid that this lone man, injured as he himself was, would kill them for simply being there, a challenge to his dominance. He looks away, focusing on his worn sneakers, full of holes and threadbare. He doesn't have anything that can hurt them, but he knows why they fear him, he is a grown white man. Alfred shudders at the fact he looks this way, the last decade has shown him that you are only safe if you fight for. It left people afraid of those that should have protected them.
The government had fallen into ruin, driven into the ground by the corruption of the system that should not have been corruptible. Money could buy anything after all, even elections. Alfred found himself leaving the city now. Abandoned apartment buildings falling away in favor of empty houses, boarded up and left to rot. A few of these buildings had was safer out here, more places one could run and fewer people clumped together, harder targets for the extremists that sought to make shows of power against those less fortunate than themselves.
Alfred continues on his way, leaving the neighborhoods of the city behind and entering the suburbs. The houses are larger here, but there are patches just as run down as the houses in the city once were. Lawns littered with bricka brack and grass kept high. Peeling paint and faded siding, gutters sagging. This used to once be the home of the middle class, now many of these homes housed multiple families. Too poor to live on their own, they search out others to split a house with. High fences have been put together to give children a safe place to play in backyards. Streets aren't safe anymore.
He leaves these homes of the desperate behind and finds himself moving into a better area. The houses are even larger here, many have gated driveways and all have well manicured lawns. People can be seen out here, most in some sort of uniform showing that they are workers, tending to lawns or repainting houses. This is the part of town where the upper class gloat over their riches and how little they pay for anything they could want. They flaunt their wealth to those that work for them or drive by in their nice cars to point and ooh and aah at the larges gilt houses. Alfred comes up to the gate at one of these homes, it is emblazoned with the seal of the United States of America. His rag wrapped hand reaches out to push the button on the intercom to request entry.
"Where have you been? And what are you wearing? Get in here and get cleaned up. I can't believe you would wander around looking like that after everything I've done for you, you lazy bastard."
The gate swings open and Alfred enters the property, making his way silently up the drive to the house where a few of the staff are waiting for him outside with bags. He is told to go around to the back of the house and strip before entering straight into the bathroom where he will be cleaned and presented fresh clothes for his meeting. After all today he would have to show the world the lie that they had been telling the world about how great their country was and that everything was just perfect there. After all the man in charge was a brilliant business man that knew how to run a country with the best efficiency.
Author's note:
I haven't written fanfiction in a while. I've mostly been doing my own original writing and working toward getting something published. But today I kept seeing and hearing more and more about how guns are destroying our country. And not just guns but Fascist ideals and fundamentalist beliefs. It seems that the more people let fear rule them and let that fear fester into hatred for anyone that is different. The more our country slips into an oblivion that we can't just crawl out of. I wrote this to get out my own feelings of frustration with everything and to hopefully show people that if we continue down this path, what I just wrote up there could come true. Share this with people. Try to think about how others feel when you belittle them and their beliefs. Be compassionate, be kind, be understanding. Those Tolerance and Coexist bumper stickers don't have to just be words, make them a reality. Don't promote hatred, help people to understand that the differences between them are beautiful and that we should all do our best to learn about everyone around us instead of tearing them down for not thinking the same way we do.
Thank you for reading all of this and hearing me out. If you have any questions, leave a comment or message me. Share this story with your friends on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumbler and any other social media. Let's try to bring back hope to our country.