< Previous Chapter | First Chapter | Next Chapter >Thanks for reading June Fiction! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Many of the pleasures of rule had faded away for Steven over the years. Power, rather than a thrill, became a brute fact. At all times it wafted off of him, attracting and repelling others whose heartbeats he could feel in one hand and stop with the other. The White House, which had become progressively more lavish over the many years– decoration based on his mother’s taste– disgusted Steven. The ostentatious display of the wealth he bled from the American people offended every aesthetic sensibility he had. A good movie poster and a decently patterned rug would have made Steven feel more at home, but the home wasn’t his. President for Life Steven Williams lived there, and he wanted nothing but the finest things in life to signify his status above the rabble. But the one activity that never got old was speaking to a raving crowd. He faced them from the balcony, the thousands of faces– many of them paid to fill the square, to be sure– gazing up at him, waiting for the first words to drip from his lips and splash onto the crowd.
Faster on My Own: Chapter 29
Faster on My Own: Chapter 29
Faster on My Own: Chapter 29
< Previous Chapter | First Chapter | Next Chapter >Thanks for reading June Fiction! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Many of the pleasures of rule had faded away for Steven over the years. Power, rather than a thrill, became a brute fact. At all times it wafted off of him, attracting and repelling others whose heartbeats he could feel in one hand and stop with the other. The White House, which had become progressively more lavish over the many years– decoration based on his mother’s taste– disgusted Steven. The ostentatious display of the wealth he bled from the American people offended every aesthetic sensibility he had. A good movie poster and a decently patterned rug would have made Steven feel more at home, but the home wasn’t his. President for Life Steven Williams lived there, and he wanted nothing but the finest things in life to signify his status above the rabble. But the one activity that never got old was speaking to a raving crowd. He faced them from the balcony, the thousands of faces– many of them paid to fill the square, to be sure– gazing up at him, waiting for the first words to drip from his lips and splash onto the crowd.