Cassandra stood at the window wondering where whispers went when they finished with her…and where alliterations came from. Was it all in her head? Why didn’t those voices stop, and why did no one ever listen to her? So many questions…and yes, she  knew the answers. The problem was, no one paid attention.

When she told them not to open the gates and bring that horse into the city—oh, it did no good. Why think about that now? It was so long ago. More recently she’d screamed from the rooftops that invading Iraq was a bad, bad idea. Did anyone listen? No weapons of mass destruction, she sobbed. Only weapons of self-destruction, as the US, once a formidable, wealthy nation hit its proverbial iceberg and sank, electing Trump as a sort of self-inflicted coup de grace.

And Brexit. They thought no one would vote for it, and, just to show, they voted for it, never thinking Other people would be stupid enough to vote for it en mass—only they did. Cassandra tore her hair and gnashed her teeth. Her “I told you so’s” were lost in the wind. Now, the wind was blowing once more. She points her finger at the world. “You have one more chance.” She says; “here is my prophecy. You have two choices.  Two choices. Cater to the rich, or cater to the poor. One leads to contentment, the other to revolution.  Government ‘one-oh-one’: When there are more rich, cater to the rich; when there are more poor, cater to the poor.”

Cassandra put her hands over her eyes. It was better if she didn’t look. Knowing things and not being able to stop them was worse than actually seeing them happen.  Maybe they wouldn’t happen? Maybe someone would finally listen? She took her hands away and gazed upwards. The sky was blue, a few fluffy clouds sailed across it like sheep ships…was that another alliteration starting? Between those and the prophecies, she thought she’d go mad. The blue sky mocked her – especially since her dreams had been filled with thunder and lightning. Storms were brewing. But did anyone listen to her predictions about global warming? She glanced again at the sky. A sheep-ship winked at her. She turned from the window and picked up her crystal ball. It was heavy and inert. It was only for decoration. Like her. With a scream that made the curtains flap, she hurled the crystal ball out the window. “I quit!” she shrieked. As usual, no one believed her.

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