Couldn't Even Dodge a Bullet? - Contest Entry

I think this was a pretty good idea. And as far as the word "whirled" was in the beginning, I think that was exactly the right word to use, because if you know anything about guns and bullets they do spin out of the barrel. Keep up the writing.

The bullet whirled I Think this is a bad word for a bit, implies a spinning motion instead of the straight forward movement of a bullet through the air at an unthinkable Up to you but I don't like this word, a bit childish?speed. A gun plummeted to the floor and fell down the stairs as the man bounded from the scene. However the bullet was on a mission and wouldn't halt until it tore threw the flesh of the cop who stood alone.

He raised his hand to the hole in his chestGood image while gasping for air. Blood bubbled out of the wound and over his uniform. A wail escaped his lips as he plummeted down the stairs crushing his knees. The sound of bones cracking filled the air.

"Charley! No! Charley!" Margaret shrieked rushing to the foot of the stairs.

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He bit into a piece of a stale bread. It crunched between his teeth, and crumbs fell from his lips into the giant body of water below. Charley, or remove the or who used to be Charley the cop, sat on the top of the curve on Sydney Harbour Bridge. The bread he cherished was probably the only thing he would eat that week.

Three years passed since his accident. Years of recovery and therapy drained all his money away until he was left with nothing but a mortgage to pay. Maybe just left him pennilessCharley lost everything that day removethe drug dealer decided to shoot. The drug dealer got away and Charley the cop died. Now there was a new Charley. Unrecognizable by his old crowd. The only people who knew Charley now were the women who worked in the soup kitchen.

Recovery really was never that hard for a couple bones and shot dunno what that means, but Charley never asked for help from anyone. He never accepted it either. The day the drug deal shot him, he thought he could do it on his own, but that is the past noweek sounds awkward in my head.

Charley finished off his piece of bread and stared down into the bay. Suddenly a thought came to him. What if I jumped...? Charley felt ashamed for thinking it, but then again he felt ashamed everyday. No, its just the easy way out.

What is left for a 56 year old cop who can't recover? Couldn't even dodge a bullet. He laughed at him self as all the hatred toward him self sank in. I have no one, but I don't need anyone. Right? If I jumped.... who would miss me? They probably couldn't even identify my body. Charley smirked.

No I can't. He stood up warily, trying to find the best way to get off the bridge. His legs trembled, and hands shook violently. Slowly he took a step. Before his foot rested of the bar of bridge Charley's other foot slipped. His body plunged through the air, much like the bullet that hit him, his path towards the harbor couldn't be stopped.

Charley's body was engulfed by water. The feeling had already drained from every inch of his body as he continued to plummet downward. Below the surface of the water a mans life was leaving, and above, in the land of the living, sirens were going off. Charley, barely conscious, tried desperately to move. It was as if his brain didn't coincide with the rest of his body like it always had. At last he gave it up when his limbs refused to cooperate and everything started fading at a rapid rate.

Couldn't even dodge a bullet?