Charlie skulked from building to building. He had to avoid the middle of the street and stay as close to the buildings as he could and off the main sidewalks. Gunfire rang out a block away. Charlie flinched at the pops.
Citizens protecting themselves. Taxpayers at work, he thought.
He could see a huddled mass near an alley about a block away. There weren’t a lot of police on patrol that day. Not much they could do against a hail of gunfire, especially with only one or two on the force that day. Charlie didn’t see any law enforcement near the people, not even private security, only a lot of folks with bug eyes, terrified they might drop dead any second. Luckily a few of them were armed. They carried rifles slung over their shoulder, had pistols at their hips, and had no problem shooting anyone who looked like they might be bad news.
Charlie packed too. He’d gotten a pistol on pay day, two days before the last bombing and a week after the last school shooting. Before heading out he loaded his pockets with ammo. It wasn’t cheap, but it made him feel better. No one wanted to be a cop anymore. Bullets tore into the concrete wall near him. Looking over his shoulder, he realized there were a bunch of people on the rooftop across the plaza. Charlie thought about being a cop once, but the pay wasn’t great considering the danger. Another bullet took out a window a hundred feet from him.
Not a good day to be out, he thought. He made his way to the crowd and waited in line. They were shuffling inside, thankfully out of view of the people on the roof. An older woman held her right shoulder. Blood dripped from a wound there. One of the armed men watched her suspiciously. A shiny-headed bald man stood next to him, also armed. He flexed a cold stare in Charlie’s direction.
“Are you even registered to vote?” the man asked him.
He looks like a turkey vulture, Charlie thought. He’s like one of those birds that feed on the dead. They have no feathers from the neck up, only mottled, nasty flesh. It’s so they can stick their entire head inside dead animals. He’s looking at me like I’m a dead animal.
Charlie nodded. “Of course I am.”
“Let’s see your voter identification card then,” the turkey vulture replied.
“Are you with the elections office?”
The man laughed, “Are you?”
Charlie reached into his back pocket. “It’s fine. I’ll show you. I’m only here to vote.”
“He’s going for a gun!”
And then Charlie was dead.
Patrick Whitehurst 
I think this story has a lot of promise. I actually enjoyed it, but it could use a few revisions I think and you’ll have something great. Keep at it!
Thanks for the feedback, Austin! Revise I shall and I am glad you enjoyed it!
Anytime, it’s what us readers are for!
I loved this up to the last line, it seems a real shame to finish so suddenly when the rest of the piece is so descriptive
Hi, Sam! Believe it or not I had a longer ending and opted for something jarring instead. This could be something I alter when I revise it.
Cool, can’t wait to read the next draft 🙂
With luck you’ll enjoy it!
I **Loved** the jarring ending. I think the post is great as is, too. Hell, it’s a very timely blog post. Sometimes pop culture sucks, and we need bloggers like you who are willing to put it all out there in quick, readable, interesting short-story-like fashion.
It does suck sometimes. But not Pokemon. Without Pikachu I wouldn’t know what socks to buy next. And you liked the jarring ending? The longer ending had a bit more on the election, snarky though, but…
Totally not Pikachu. He doesn’t suck at all.
Yes. Please keep the jarring end. I have no doubt you’ll find plenty of other places to add the snark. 🙂
I do enjoy snarking. And Pikathings.
We could invent our own Pokemon, Snarkachu.
And it could evolve into a full blown Curmudgeaki!
Totally. Curmudgeaki! And our pokemon cards will sell for $11.37. Just because.
And they will of course be the strongest cards, since Curmudgeaki has nihilism beams and can only be defeated by ritalin.
Oh yeah. And wrapped in edible foil that tastes like chocolate spearmint. Kind of like thin mints & peppermint patties combined.
And with product placement in every new Samual L. Jackson movie, so they’d be in like every movie.
Totally. And Jack Bauer will be eating the wrappers and handing out the cards while he’s checking the perimeter in all the future series of 24.
And hot and alcoholic beverages will be served 24 hours a day for all creative styles.
Like hot toddies and absinthe?
At the same time, yes.
You betcha. wink.
And the party begins.
I’ll bring the biodegradable water balloons.
And I will bring brick oven pizzas!
I’ll bring the bricks!
I’ll bring the keynote speaker.
I’ll be the keynote speaker for a nominal fee of Uncle Eddie’s vegan chocolate chip cookies.
Just talking about Uncle Eddie is making me hungry! Though I don’t know who he is, but it sounds so good…
Uncle Eddie rocks, but holy shit, super expensive.
So just the thing for my budget.
Yeah. No.