The two great leaders met in the Arizona desert. Alone. No one in the President’s administration knew of this meeting. If word got out, his political enemies would ruin him, much as they had his father. But the risk of doing nothing were too great. Young Trump, as the President was affectionately known, watched as a teenager while his father’s political party spit in the face of science and ignore the signs of climate change. The Deniers became a powerful political force, rolling back centuries of innovation and learning, all in the name of Capitalism.
If only his father had listened to the Truth-Sayers. He could have prevented this catastrophe from happing. But that is all water under the bridge,
Young Trump chuckled at the thought. What a fitting pun.
Swallowing hard, the President spoke.
“I believe they call you Saguaro?”
“My race is known by many names. That is one. Little children know our true name. I believe we are called Man Cactus in your language.”
Young Trump smiled, remembering.
“What do you seek from me,” the ancient one asked?
“Teach me how to live without water.”
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. A Mixed Bag provided this week’s challenging photo