I can't believe I wrote this.

Okay, so this is incredibly different from anything I've ever written. Here's the prompt: 

 President James McCloud is the first president to ban all country music from the White House. When a group of rednecks come to challenge him, he must defend his stance and stand his ground.


So, with that being said, the result.....

President McCloud cleared his throat.

“Let them come. I’ll never give in. This country’s been on a loose leash too long. Let’s show them something worth singing about. Real music. Give the order McClintock.”

  "But sir, the citizens are willing to die to protect their music!”

“Let them die! Why should we care? I’m done with this. From now on things are going to be different and nobody,” He looked up, his face contorted with rage, “Nobody is going to get away with signing that offensive, demented babble.” He slammed his fist into McClintock’s ribs. “Which side are you on soldier? The side of order? Restraint? Or the side that made this country fall to the depths it’s reached over the last two hundred years?”

Through his teeth McClintock responded, “I’m on your side sir. I swear.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to your word. So make this count. Send out my troops. And let the chips fall where they may.”

~*~

Hunter cleared his throat. They were at the gates. The sky was amarillo and everywhere hidden faces were watching. The president wouldn't relent, Hunter, knew it and no one would ever alter McCloud’s mind without a fight. Hunter licked his lips nervously, tasting his father’s blood in his mouth, along with the saltiness of tears. He remembered his home and felt blood and bile building his throat.

How did we become this? How did this country fall so far? What started it? What pushed this man to the edge of madness? His thoughts ran rampant through his head like and avalanche of snow cascading down a steep slope. They gathered more animosity as they tore through his head. Every moment made him more determined.

“Remember the days when were free, Emily?” He whispered, taking her hand. “Free to sing whatever we wished, at any moment, without fear?”

“I remember.”

“We’ll have them again.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just am. Nothing can stop us. Because we’re fighting for what we love.

And with that they ran. The gates of the White house burned fiery and brighter than all the heat Hunter felt inside him.

~*~

“Mr. President, they’re coming!” McClintock shouted, his dry voice echoing like crackling paper through the long hallways. In the oval office, McCloud signed his papers. After all, the minister shouldn’t be kept waiting just because a band of country rebels thought they could stand against the might of his House. He tapped the end of a pen against his teeth.

“What did I say solder? Let them come. I don’t fear them. I don’t fear anyone. They wanted their music, well let it play! Let it rain down as they watch their wives and children die. No one will get away. Kill them all. That’s an order.”

“But sir, they’re musicians not soldiers! Are we really to turn against our own citizens with such a penalty as death?”

“It’s the price they pay. They chose this McClintock. Never forget that. Give the order.”

~*~

Hunter felt Emily’s hand ripped from his own as fire filled his lungs and he crooned the last line of a country song…