“The Real Story of Hillary”
Before stumbling into her vehicle from a “Reported” pneumonia attack, Hill manages to work herself into a midnight black bulletproof SUV fit for a presidential candidate. Gasping for air, and dihydrogen monoxide. The SUV drives off, before its final occupant can rush to their prospective side. The brown smog of rocks, dust and pebbles kicks and creates a mild sand storm in the SUV’s wake. Anyone not lucky enough to enter the vehicle braces their faces and eyes, trying to prevent dust particles from lodging themselves in between their eyelids. Hill hears the coughing of the left behind staffers in the distance drowned out by the sound of tires screeching against gravel and the rumbling of pavement. Staring outside her window, one hand on her chest, thinking “This can’t be and am I dying ?”.
“Where (cough), where are we going” asks Hill?
The driver looks back at the Presidential candidate, for the first time ever he actually believes she is a human and has a threshold. The candidate that never fatigued.
“We are going to the hospital, now!” said the agent filled with emotion.
The candidate, uses every ounce of strength, found within her body to yell “No, go To (Insert Address Here) I have a personal secret doctor, there, go directly” before dozing off from exhaustion.
Eyes struggling to stay open, her head swaying back and forth; falling into the light and diving into the dark.
Madam Candidate, can you hear me? She hears in the distance, muffled yet distinct. (need transition) She awakens to find herself trotting through wide green pastures, and wading through clay sludge, brushing against her waist. Looking around for any familiar faces, she’s all alone. She sees a giant black vortex in the distance, everything pointing towards it. Walking through the sludge, she seeing red carbon mountains and crevices along the skyline. Exposed rock, displaying layers upon layers of compressed shale, clay, sediment, and earth. “Where am I? I was just at the event”. Hill thinks to herself. The sound of the voice becomes louder the slower she walks, the voice rippling across the clay colored sludge. Now past her navel, but she continues heading towards the gaping void. Looking to the surrounding skyline, filled with hues of amber, the closer to the void.
Hill reaches upwards and takes a firm grasp of the coarse overhead vines above her to assist walking towards the dark void. The sludge begins landing on her face, covering her shoulders and salpicando into her nose (sneezing frequently). The void, seems miles away, yet perfectly visible from the sludge, illuminating, despite the absence of color radiating from within.
Pains shooting up her calves from the contact hopping she’s doing, fighting to keep her mouth from consuming the sludge. Yet continuing to tread forward, the voices growing louder before drowning out thanks to sludge filling her ears, every time shes submerged before trusting herself up and out, fighting to fill her lungs with air. Every time she’s submerged, her eyes shut, aspirations and familiar faces flicker before her in between the abstract sunspots the become visible from squeezing her eye shut.
Is this it? She thinks before accidentally opening her mouth, sludge rushing in, her body begins to react to the foreign substance, pushing its way through unrestricted sections, growing colder and weighted down from the sludge. Everything's coming in and out of focus, all white damp, and surprisingly chilly. She opens her eyes and whiteness , in all directions, but surprisingly the sludge is breathable. Beneath her, the ground she can no longer feel due to her floating in the clay abyss, Hill begins to stretch and vines sprout from the nothingness, binding her ankles and working their way across her torso, the ground swallows her whole. A distinct voices becomes louder, yelling with a blank audible in the background.
Hill’s fighting the vines clutches, while managing to free her left hand, and reaching for anything graspable. Landing on a shoulder, opening her eyes once again and seeing a familiar face: Dr. ( Insert name here). She surveys the room, medical equipment a galore, tubes and machines attached to her frame. The beeps from the EKG machine and drips of liquid saline solution synchronized, everything begins to go fuzzy again. Her eyes close before bursting open, pupils dilated, the candidate focuses and reaches for the clear dihydrogen monoxide with her sole free hand on the table next to her bed. She gulps the clear beverage down, before signaling for more; and croaking at any attempts of using her voice.
She hand signals what time is it? Fortunately, a midnight janitor recognizes the sign signals and immediately signs back. How do you know ASL? Said the Dr. The janitor replies my son was born deaf, I had to learn ASL and English at the same time. I am not from this country as he continues to add in between translating for Hill. Arcadio: the janitor explains where they are, what time it is and how they arrived, while making light of their moonlight arrival.
Hill sits and thinks about her next move, who knows and what is the current message…..
She signals to turn on the t.v, and Arcadio turns on the television.