[note: this is a journal entry assignment I did for English class in response to the short story Harrison Bergeron]

August 7, 2081
    3:06 a.m.

      They visited again, just as vivid as the first encounter. My body is trembling, too afraid to call up the emotions and pictures they stirred through my every fiber. There’s an entity, black as coals, who is terribly disfigured. His frayed shadow clomps towards my bedside. I am frozen, as if invisible ties strap me down. He grips my wrists, cutting of my blood supply and weakening by bones. His fingernails dig into my pale skin and as he releases my wrists, he runs his nails up both arms. Dark satin trickles down my fragile skin, a metallic odor filling the room. The man moves faster than I can track him and before my mind comprehends, my lungs are screaming bloody murder.
      However, my life doesn’t seem to fall way, but I am stuck in a miasma of death. My eyes dart furiously, which is when I notice a haggard old woman. Her grimy black cloak is ragged and torn. It appears that every single possession of hers is carried on her body: a muddy, stained-brown shawl, and a thrifty canvas handbag. Her stringy, white hair partially hides her deeply etched, pale-gray face. Within seconds she is sitting on my chest. Her weight is heavy enough to constrict my breathing, but not quite enough to end this eternal nightmare. Time freezes, my eyes taking in the freakish tableau. I find myself able to inhale before I am plunged back to this chilling reality. The old woman snarls and raises her hand. My face stings, searing pain shrieking from every single nerve ending. My surroundings become translucent crimson and murky shadows become all I can ascertain. The man and woman then retreat, slinking backwards and glowering, becoming revenants of a persistent, perpetual hell.
     My usually lithe body is left listless, with static buzzing in my ears. It’s like a tape stuck on repeat, the fear, the pain, every single detail down to my emotions are identical to their first visit... The urge to fall into the dream world is calling me, forcing my controls to surrender; the dawn will be rising shortly.

August 8, 2081
    7:24 a.m.

     Last night’s happenings surfaced even more reasons why this superficial, Hollywood-run world still needs to be wholly equal. My fingers burn when I trace the scabs which should’ve by now become faint scars. The spirits have chosen me to be the dominator, the Handicapper-General, but it has come with a price. Their ceaseless vexations have given me paralyzing phantasms but also a tremendous strength with which to dominate the human race. My own re-opened lacerations have given me new faith in my plan. No one shall defy me...no one shall defy another. A world of chaos, Pandora’s Box as I tend to believe, will cease to be. The world I have created...is truly perfection.

August 11, 2081
    6:18 p.m.

     The last three days have been a horrendous display of typical human behavior. Harrison Bergeron, the boy we captured some years ago, has been harassing the guards who watch over him. His delinquency has forced us to take drastic measures in keeping society protected from the beast he is. I fear for the safety of my well-ordered world and for the security of my carefully meticulated scheme. The pain is returning as I think of Harrison. My face burns and my arms pulsate with a withering pain. I must-

August 11, 2081
    9:13 p.m.

     What a massacre. My heart defies my mind, thumping loud enough to drown out even the most tumultuous of noises. Harrison Bergeron, the one person in the whole world who could overturn my beautiful wickedness, escaped from his prison cell. Within minutes I had received word of the predicament transpiring at the studio. The maniacal young man had stripped himself of all his handicaps, to reveal the truly hideous monster beneath. I can still feel how my heart skipped a beat as I walked into the studio. My pulse slowed for a fifth of a second, my footsteps falling in slow motion. The horrific sight filled my eyes and I lost control of my mind. Harrison Bergeron and his ravishingly divine ballerina hung in the air in the dance of romance, not knowing what their future was to behold...that they had already sold their fate. Two shots rang out, my body jerking backwards with each blast. The heinous sound resonated through my soul, inducing a catatonic state. The elderly man and woman...the appalling scabs...Harrison Bergeron being locked up, then escaping...and finally, the first droplet of blood splashing onto earth, signifying the exact reason this ideality was created. I would never be inferior again. The wounds may never heal, but no one will ever be better...no one will now have to go through the suffering I was put through. I will reign forever more.