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This is my first attempt at writing a story; it’s from the point of view of a world leaders child. A view that we don't often to get to see. I would love to hear your info and criticism, so please read and feedback!
I gazed aimlessly across the living room, adorned with the finest silk cloths and gossamer linens. A room accented by the smooth timber furniture, their values unimaginable. To an average kid, it was nothing spectacular to see. Just old, dusty chairs made back in who knows when. Then again...I wasn't your average 13-year-old girl, being the child of the nations president that is. Yup, that's right, the Presidents first and only child! Can you imagine that? Heh. So many people at the Private School ask me how it feels to be the president’s daughter. I don't know why they ask...he's like any other father, I guess. Never let me stay up late never let me go out with guys and always bugs me about my homework! Don't their fathers do the same thing to them? If not, then they're sooo lucky!
I wish he would stop worrying so much about me.
With yawn a flipped through the delicate and thin pages of a teen magazine, the thought of my father fading into the depths of my mind and being replaced by a media hyped boy band. I could only role my eyes as photo-shots, showing star-stricken, screaming girls beamed up from page 14. I mean, don't these girls have a life? They're just some guys, not god or anything. Then again, they're kinda cute... I let go of another yawn, my right pointer finger, twirling the ends of my long hair. A smile crossed my lips as I closed the magazine, my eyes looking down at the date of this month’s issue, October 15th. I smiled because it reminded me of the fall dance coming up soon, which then reminded me of Howard Dean, my date. Well, actually he wasn't my date YET, but soon I would gather the courage to ask him out. Just maybe, he'll notice me this time? It's sounds funny that the presidents own daughter couldn't get attention from a single guy. Oh well, that's the way it is I guess. Then again, I can't help wondering if Howard is trying to avoid me. Man that would suck. If so, why? Was it my hair? My face? My BREATH?!....
I sat idly on the couch as I pondered my possible faults over and over again until a tired myself out with anxiety. I figured maybe a little TV would drive the thoughts out my mind and in suite I reached for the remote, instantly tapping the "power" button. The sharp and clear image of the plasma screen filled the half-lit room with a dim bluish light. The first thing I made out on the television was 3 separate couples sitting on the beach and discussing ways to back stab each other. Obviously it was another "reality" television show. Hah, reality my butt...when was the last time you saw perfectly thin and tall people get cast away on some desolate island with no food and water and then come back looking their same fabulous selves? Get real!
I changed the channel, deciding not to fill my mind with such junk. It seemed nothing was on. Almost 500 channels in this palace and nothing was on! I would have turned off the TV had I not spotted my father, standing behind the familiar light-brown podium, which carried the nations symbol. Of course I had seen this a thousand times before, but still, just seeing my own dad stand in front of a bazillion people gave me a small ounce of pride. I observed on as he smoothly ran through his previously written speech on the subject of world peace and those attempting to unravel its delicate knit. I often wonder why he even became president. The few days he could come home from international visits or public appearances, he always seemed drained and over-worked. I could see the stress on his face. Wrinkles tell more then just age you know. Why does he care so much about what happens waaaay on the other side of the world, when he has a loving daughter right here to take care of? Either way, he was my father and I loved him, whether president or not. But still....
I gave out a huff as my father closed up the final points of his speech. He clearly condemned the use of force against other nations, especially acts of terrorism. Everything was going fine as usual, but then something happend that I would never forget. As my father geared up for a powerful ending, shouting cut him off from the right. At least I thought it was from the right, since the camera angle was looking from the left side. The shouting was followed by multiple screams and a "POP, POP" noise. I jumped from the couch, closer to the TV as I saw men in uniform black suites; my fathers personal guards, jump cover him. At that point in time a strong chill went through my body, it felt as if I couldn’t move. I was confused, startled, and scared. As I hopelessly stared at the television, seconds seemed to last for hours. I began to get angry, I wanted answers! I wanted to know who would try and murder my father! I wanted to know if my father would be ok! If I would be able to see his warm inviting smile even after a tuff days work!
I jumped for the second time as the secret service lifted the body of my father. I waited anxiously as he came into view amidst the crowd of black and white tuxes. For a moment nothing happened and a feeling of overwhelming dread washed over me. What if the worst had happened? However, my emotions had been wiped away as my dad shook his head and stood up on his feet. Those who were left in the crowd cheered in celebration and in triumph my father walked toward his limo, holding his fist in the air. I could feel tears running down my cheeks and onto the carpet, but they were tears of relief. For that very moment, I had forgotten about the fall dance, the boy band in the magazine, the reality TV show and even Howard. It was then I understood why he worked so hard to make the entire world a better place. It was then I understood that he did it for my future and for me...
I gazed aimlessly across the living room, adorned with the finest silk cloths and gossamer linens. A room accented by the smooth timber furniture, their values unimaginable. To an average kid, it was nothing spectacular to see. Just old, dusty chairs made back in who knows when. Then again...I wasn't your average 13-year-old girl, being the child of the nations president that is. Yup, that's right, the Presidents first and only child! Can you imagine that? Heh. So many people at the Private School ask me how it feels to be the president’s daughter. I don't know why they ask...he's like any other father, I guess. Never let me stay up late never let me go out with guys and always bugs me about my homework! Don't their fathers do the same thing to them? If not, then they're sooo lucky!
I wish he would stop worrying so much about me.
With yawn a flipped through the delicate and thin pages of a teen magazine, the thought of my father fading into the depths of my mind and being replaced by a media hyped boy band. I could only role my eyes as photo-shots, showing star-stricken, screaming girls beamed up from page 14. I mean, don't these girls have a life? They're just some guys, not god or anything. Then again, they're kinda cute... I let go of another yawn, my right pointer finger, twirling the ends of my long hair. A smile crossed my lips as I closed the magazine, my eyes looking down at the date of this month’s issue, October 15th. I smiled because it reminded me of the fall dance coming up soon, which then reminded me of Howard Dean, my date. Well, actually he wasn't my date YET, but soon I would gather the courage to ask him out. Just maybe, he'll notice me this time? It's sounds funny that the presidents own daughter couldn't get attention from a single guy. Oh well, that's the way it is I guess. Then again, I can't help wondering if Howard is trying to avoid me. Man that would suck. If so, why? Was it my hair? My face? My BREATH?!....
I sat idly on the couch as I pondered my possible faults over and over again until a tired myself out with anxiety. I figured maybe a little TV would drive the thoughts out my mind and in suite I reached for the remote, instantly tapping the "power" button. The sharp and clear image of the plasma screen filled the half-lit room with a dim bluish light. The first thing I made out on the television was 3 separate couples sitting on the beach and discussing ways to back stab each other. Obviously it was another "reality" television show. Hah, reality my butt...when was the last time you saw perfectly thin and tall people get cast away on some desolate island with no food and water and then come back looking their same fabulous selves? Get real!
I changed the channel, deciding not to fill my mind with such junk. It seemed nothing was on. Almost 500 channels in this palace and nothing was on! I would have turned off the TV had I not spotted my father, standing behind the familiar light-brown podium, which carried the nations symbol. Of course I had seen this a thousand times before, but still, just seeing my own dad stand in front of a bazillion people gave me a small ounce of pride. I observed on as he smoothly ran through his previously written speech on the subject of world peace and those attempting to unravel its delicate knit. I often wonder why he even became president. The few days he could come home from international visits or public appearances, he always seemed drained and over-worked. I could see the stress on his face. Wrinkles tell more then just age you know. Why does he care so much about what happens waaaay on the other side of the world, when he has a loving daughter right here to take care of? Either way, he was my father and I loved him, whether president or not. But still....
I gave out a huff as my father closed up the final points of his speech. He clearly condemned the use of force against other nations, especially acts of terrorism. Everything was going fine as usual, but then something happend that I would never forget. As my father geared up for a powerful ending, shouting cut him off from the right. At least I thought it was from the right, since the camera angle was looking from the left side. The shouting was followed by multiple screams and a "POP, POP" noise. I jumped from the couch, closer to the TV as I saw men in uniform black suites; my fathers personal guards, jump cover him. At that point in time a strong chill went through my body, it felt as if I couldn’t move. I was confused, startled, and scared. As I hopelessly stared at the television, seconds seemed to last for hours. I began to get angry, I wanted answers! I wanted to know who would try and murder my father! I wanted to know if my father would be ok! If I would be able to see his warm inviting smile even after a tuff days work!
I jumped for the second time as the secret service lifted the body of my father. I waited anxiously as he came into view amidst the crowd of black and white tuxes. For a moment nothing happened and a feeling of overwhelming dread washed over me. What if the worst had happened? However, my emotions had been wiped away as my dad shook his head and stood up on his feet. Those who were left in the crowd cheered in celebration and in triumph my father walked toward his limo, holding his fist in the air. I could feel tears running down my cheeks and onto the carpet, but they were tears of relief. For that very moment, I had forgotten about the fall dance, the boy band in the magazine, the reality TV show and even Howard. It was then I understood why he worked so hard to make the entire world a better place. It was then I understood that he did it for my future and for me...
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