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JOURNAL
October 2004
A HALLOWEEN STORY
Amy ran up the hill through the darkness, terror seizing her with every slip of her foot, every gasp of breath, every handful of grass with which to pull herself back up. She looked behind her; he was still approaching, smiling and steady.
"I have a plan," he assured her, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. "I have a plan." It was John Kerry.
Amy didn't want to know the plan, she just wanted to keep running away from that beatific face. Once more, she collapsed on the hill, and as she started to pull herself up, she saw a pair of feet, cowboy boots, in front of her. With a whimper, she slowly raised her eyes to see the figure towering over her.
It was George W. Bush. "You can run, but you can't hide," he drawled, a crooked grin across his face. He reached down with his right hand, offering to pull her up.
"No! No!" Amy cried. She pushed herself back and let herself roll down the hill, faster and faster, the voices echoing in her throbbing head: "You can't lead if you keep changing your position" and "it was a colossal mistake." Rolling, rolling, rolling down the hill. At last, Amy screamed again as she stopped herself at the precipice of a deep, dark pit.
Looking down, she saw a man looking back up at her with outstretched arms. "You have reached the nadir of your choices with those two. You must vote for me," cooed Ralph Nader.
Amy woke herself up with her scream. She lay in her bed, bathed in sweat. It was early morning, November 1st. In her mind, still Halloween. And tomorrow would be Election Day.
She remembered a few years ago, when, afraid for her life and tiring of the economic woes, not to mention the stench of burning metal and flesh, she fled downtown Manhattan for the more peaceful Pennsylvania Poconos. And now the stress was unbearable again. She lived in a Swing State.
The entire fate of mankind rested on her still-weary shoulders. Not just Iraq, but North Korea and Israel and nations at civil war in northern Africa. The melting polar ice caps and deadly sun rays streaming through the hole in the ozone layer. The rising price of gasoline. Dwindling healthcare for the middle class. Public school education. One tax going up while another goes down. Stagnant wages. Unemployment and outsourcing. The moral quandaries of stem cell research and unlimited abortion rights. Lack of integrity in leaders. Terrorism on American soil. Her club-hopping, gay friends from Manhattan who now wanted to get married, emailing her and begging her to save them.
Who could sleep through such a morass? When would the nightmare end? Tomorrow? Or would it go on for years and years?
Why, oh why, did I choose a Swing State, she thought, torturing herself over and over again. Could she possibly absolve herself of all responsibility by . . . NOT VOTING? Would that solve anything?
She wished there had been better choices. She wished she had paid more attention, perhaps watched C-Span instead of "Fear Factor." Had her coffee while reading the newspaper instead of listening to Regis and Kelly. She'd had minutes here, minutes there, to better her mind, and she chose to remain ignorant. Now she was in a Swing State and had to make a big decision. Every vote counted. The nightmare she was living in was partly of her own making.
Amy flipped on the light and padded to the bathroom to wash her face. She stopped when she noticed the calendar at her desk. She had forgotten to flip over the next month, and did so. There it was, November.
Tomorrow would arrive soon. November 2 . . . November 2. The day rang a vague bell, something she had touched upon in her studies long ago.
Of course. November 2. Election Day. AND All Souls Day. On the ancient Christian calendar, the day to honor the souls of the dead. And the Day of Wrath for those who had killed them.
The significance of the day sent a sudden chill through her body. She picked up a cross necklace on her dresser and held it tightly to her chest as she crawled back into bed. In the stillness of the night, holding the cross, she sought guidance from above as she drifted off to sleep.
Cool, clear sunlight shone through her window the next morning and Amy awoke, rested. She placed the cross on her nightstand and began to ready herself for another day. The goblins of the night before were gone, and Amy moved about her little house with purpose and clarity.
She would go to work today, and vote tomorrow. With a little quiet and a wink from above, she had found where her heart was. No amount of spin could change it.
Amy would vote, with no second thoughts.
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