When Walls Come Down

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story focuses on what could be the future for America if Donald Trump is elected president and does indeed build his walls. The main character is a young woman who travels the country trying to bring people together, and mend the broken homes.

Submitted: September 20, 2016

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Submitted: September 20, 2016

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Shouts rang out, some even louder than the ring of rocks falling on top of each other. It was a glorious day with the sun shining and the clouds few and far between. It was about 50 years after the fall of dictator Trump. He had died and with him his followers soon fell as well. They had no chance against the public once their leader was gone. Today was only possible because the people had finally opened their eyes and stood up and fought back. Today was a day for history. It was the fall of the northern wall. On the other side stood the great wild land of Canada. Little was known about them anymore, and the few elders of the land who remembered the erection of the wall and the splitting of families were barred from speaking about it. Some information had been passed but who knows how much of it was true? It was good though to see families being brought together again. Tears streamed down some of their faces while others just sat in stunned happy silence. I had traveled up to this joyous occasion to see if my skills were needed. I had heard of a rumor that the people on the other side spoke a foreign language-French I believe. But the shouts I heard were of English. I turned away and began to wander. Perhaps later on they would need me but for now I looked for a place to camp.

 

When I was 10 years old, my mother and I had traveled down south to see the southern border ripped away in a similar fashion. It was pulled away to reveal a land of sand and warmth, with blue water. It was loud and large and the people were eager to show their enthusiasm and share it. I was captivated by Texico. Being it just my mother and I now, we stayed for a long time. But within the first month my talent began to shine. It was an elder woman who first saw it. One afternoon she and her husband called on my mother. They explained why they were there. I had been playing with her grandchildren and speaking almost entirely their language. They realized the importance of such a skill and wanted to make sure my mother and I knew it as well. It was another wall that had built between the people of the world. Separating everyone meant blocking off cultures, trades, religions, and languages. So while the world was trying to come back together it could not because no one could speak to the other. Very soon we began traveling all over Texico. We visited all kinds of people in that warm land. We even ventured further south to a man-made river! The people on the other side of it however spoke a new language and were not as warm and welcoming as the Texicans. My mother spent weeks in front of their land trying to establish trust. Again it was I who made the first real bond. As a child I wanted to simply play. And I did and eventually I began playing with the native children of that land. By winning the trust of my fellow children, they brought me into their homes. Then it was easier to learn their ways.

 

I was now 12 and I was very happy. We ran through jungles and rivers, seeking out caves and wild animals, and climbing trees for treats and fruits. My mother however began to see I was changing and turning into womanhood and away from childhood. She spoke we me and convinced me that I should give up playing in the wild lands and instead travel and see to it that I bond the world together. That I learn the languages of many and in turn teach them the language of the main land. I accepted. That summer was a hot one and we took it as a sign to head north. Some news had filtered down talking about the west wall coming down finally.

 

The west wall was were California sat. The people were hesitant to unleash it for it was locked away because it had been sucking away the precious resources from the main land. My mother said her mother was there for when it had been built. Many tears were shed, but they said it was for the good of everyone, that California was now a dried up wasteland with nothing to offer and only sucking away the life of the mainland. My grandmother told me some stories about it to put me to sleep. She talked about how it was in a terrible drought (but only because an evil worm had come up from under the earth and sucked all the water away and the Californians were so sad that they cried for many moons until they had surrounded themselves almost entirely by salty water) and there was only a small patch of livable land left. Even with the drought and the great sadness of the people, many traveled there to see the epic body of tears. There were many rich and famous people who brought tribute to that great land. They even said it once housed gold for miles but even the great worm took that as well. Looking back I knew my grandmother was only spinning a grand tale for her grand baby but I still enjoy the tall tale.

 

When the wall finally came down I was now 13, almost 14. Traveling had been hard and even harder due to us having to travel entirely on foot now. We encountered many dangers and even had to fight off bandits (there will always be bad people even in good times). We did make it though and we saw the smiling faces of the tan wiry people. They were good natured, much like the Texicans, but they were more relaxed than them. They moved at a pace that wasn’t slow but it wasn’t fast either. It was odd. They showed us the many fruits and vegetables they grew and how, and showed us how they surfed-an art that was lost for many years. I even asked about the great worm story and they laughed for they had never heard of such a thing before. They asked me to tell the tale many times and each time I remembered my grandmother and how proud she would be of me. I wish she had lived long enough to see this day. We loved the land but didn’t stay long due to the fact they spoke English already. While they had a funny accent, it didn’t need translating, so we gained our strength and supplies back and headed out to a new land.

 

I was now well into my 14th year of life and winter was setting in once more. My mother had never really recovered from that harsh summer with the air heavy with humidity and bugs that sucked at your blood. We decided to head home for the winter. We had tried to keep in touch with our hometown as much as possible but sometimes the birds weren’t very good at their jobs. Once there were hundreds of thousands of these birds. The Trump resistance fighters from many years ago had created them so that people could keep in contact with others from over the wall. Giant towers were then constructed and gave a 50,000 volt shock to anything trying to get across. Many of the birds died and the ones who didn’t stayed huddled together and as a result too many of the birds inbred and created sad shadows of their once great race. Much like the human race…

 

We did make it home and everyone welcomed us. They had kept our home clean and waiting for us. They held us with respect for I was now their Translator. I was a voice to many and a way into change and a huge step forward. Apparently, news of this had traveled fast and many people came to see us. They looked to me for teachings in the mainland language, and in turn I wanted them to teach me theirs. A simple exchange and it broke endless boundaries that Trump had placed on the people. We stayed in our little town for the next few years, slowly becoming the center of many different people. Once we were taught to hate and fear that which was different. To shun those who weren’t like us. We built walls and burned all bridges. We cut off all human acceptance and tolerance. Eventually, people grew weary of carrying hate in their hearts and things changed. We watched with pity as the man who changed the world die on live TV. We no longer hated. We simply pitied him. The world as we knew it crumbled away and changed. Some things were unalterable. We had sealed the fate of many, and we did terrible damages to the Earth. We would try to overcome though. We would move forwards.  And that we did. There were others out there like me and my mother would sought out these other lands and tried to bridge the gaps. Relations grew and everyone prospered.

 

I am now in my twenties and a fully-fledged adult. Two summers ago I lost my mother. In honor of her memory I told the townspeople that I was leaving and I was going to continue to help bring everyone together. It was hard at first without my mother there to help me and guide me. Even harder traveling alone now. However, I am respected everywhere I go. I even ride on trains and buses now, something unheard of for a person from such poor background as mine. The older I grew the more truth and lies I saw and unraveled. I knew that Trump had done something terrible to the world and it was a wound so deep that even my generation could not heal it even after 50 years.  I stopped to see a group of people throwing their arms around an elder. He cried and desperately tried to wrap his arms around all of his loved ones. His thin frail arms looked like they would snap from the effort and began to shake uncontrollably. He took them all in anyway. I smiled and felt joy for these families that had been finally reunited. I was glad that I was going down this path in life and forever grateful to the elder woman in Texico for convincing my mother to help me even though I was so young. Now that the main walls were down and most of the main land was now open to travelers, I wondered if perhaps I should travel across the seas and begin an even bigger bridge. I knew there was more out there. We would eventually need their help. The question was where to start.


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