An American Nightmare - Part 1

An American Nightmare
Pseudofiction by Amy Branham

PART I – THE WOMAN
George climbed into bed beside Laura, tired from the long day of work. Running a nation isn't easy. It's really hard work. The war in Iraq wasn't going well and disapproval by the American people was growing by the day. His economic policies were awash. You have to make hard decisions when you are President of a country, he told himself. I'm the President and I can do what I want. The people elected me, and that gave me the freedom to do what needs to be done.
George drifted off to sleep with that thought running through his mind.
In the night he was awakened by a sound. He opened his eyes and scanned the room but saw nothing. Laura was still peacefully sleeping, undisturbed. Unconcerned, George closed his eyes. The White House was teeming with security at all hours of the day and night. He was safe. Nothing could happen to him here.
Just as he began to drift back into dreamland, he heard the sound again, louder this time. It seemed to be coming from the far corner of the bedroom. This time George sat up in bed and looked around. The sound continued to grow steadily louder. Crying, someone was crying. Who would be in his room crying at this time of night?
George sat there in his bed for a moment, not able to decide what to do. Where were those Secret Services agents that were supposed to be protecting him, he thought to himself. George rolled out of bed, slipped his feet into slippers on and grabbed his robe from the back of a nearby chair as he headed for the door, intending to find out where his guards were. As he did so, he looked back to the corner where the noise was coming from and stopped.
In the corner stood a woman, her head covered. She was weeping and moaning, a sound that came from the depths of her soul, eerily ghost-like that almost gave George a chill. He turned to face the woman.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" George demanded of the woman.
The woman said nothing, but took a step toward George. He stood his ground.
"How did you get in here?" George demanded of the woman.
The woman still did not answer him. She continued to advanced toward him, her cries growing louder and more shrill with each step. George looked to the bed for help from Laura, but Laura was still sound asleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath. How could she not hear this?
The woman was now just a few steps away from George. He found himself backing away from her. One step. Two steps. Three steps. His back was now against a wall and he looked around, panic stricken, trying to find a way out. The door, there was the door that led out of the room, he thought to himself. Just get to the door and you can get out, call security.
There was no escape for George on this night. He was caught in a nightmare of his own making.
As he tried to inch his way along, back against the wall, the woman spoke to him.
"Mr. Bush, you killed me."
"What? I haven't killed anyone," George replied.
"Mr. Bush, you are responsible for my death. You killed me with your bombs. I was in my home, sleeping in my bed. Your bombs came and hit my house. I died."

more at http://www.houstondemocrats.com/archives/2005/12/an_american_nig_1.html

Which three individuals would be the ghosts? I nominate Nixon, Reagan, and Eisenhower. Nixon for the future, Reagan for the present, and Eisenhower for the past.