| General Fiction posted July 22, 2022 |
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Even when it hurts, you do the right thing.
Call of Duty
by Rachelle Allen
I voted today. Actually, that's a typo. I meant to write "I Vo(mi)ted Today," because that's a way more accurate description of what transpired in that cloaked booth.
I felt like a bulimic who swallows down what she's been force fed--in this case, that it's my "civic duty" and that "good men and women died on distant shores so that I could have this privilege." I seriously felt bile rising into my throat as I filled in the circle next to "my" candidate's name. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't so much vote FOR a candidate as I did vote AGAINST his opponent. Kind of a high-stakes theme-and-variation on "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Oh, here we go: encore performance of rising bile.
I don't remember which comedian said this, but he's right: Why do we get fifty choices for Miss America, and only two for President of the United States?
I vote because, as my father taught me, it's not only my right, it's my responsibility. Shirking it would make me a substandard citizen--derelict in my duty--for the entirety of that year. Even the year my mother voted for Lyndon Johnson "because he's such a good dancer" didn't reduce her to a substandard citizen in my father's eyes. A kook, maybe, but not a substandard citizen.
His mantra was, "Even if you go into that booth and you pull the lever with one hand while you're holding your nose with the other, you vote."
So, like I said, today I vo(mi)ted. But, honest to the lord above, Dad, I really think that this year it would have felt like an act of heresy even for you. I hope you're resting in peace now.
I adjust my dark shades, sound-check my ear-piece, and loop my badge back around my neck as I saunter toward the Oval Office to begin my shift.
I voted writing prompt entry
I voted today. Actually, that's a typo. I meant to write "I Vo(mi)ted Today," because that's a way more accurate description of what transpired in that cloaked booth.
I felt like a bulimic who swallows down what she's been force fed--in this case, that it's my "civic duty" and that "good men and women died on distant shores so that I could have this privilege." I seriously felt bile rising into my throat as I filled in the circle next to "my" candidate's name. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't so much vote FOR a candidate as I did vote AGAINST his opponent. Kind of a high-stakes theme-and-variation on "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Oh, here we go: encore performance of rising bile.
I don't remember which comedian said this, but he's right: Why do we get fifty choices for Miss America, and only two for President of the United States?
I vote because, as my father taught me, it's not only my right, it's my responsibility. Shirking it would make me a substandard citizen--derelict in my duty--for the entirety of that year. Even the year my mother voted for Lyndon Johnson "because he's such a good dancer" didn't reduce her to a substandard citizen in my father's eyes. A kook, maybe, but not a substandard citizen.
His mantra was, "Even if you go into that booth and you pull the lever with one hand while you're holding your nose with the other, you vote."
So, like I said, today I vo(mi)ted. But, honest to the lord above, Dad, I really think that this year it would have felt like an act of heresy even for you. I hope you're resting in peace now.
I adjust my dark shades, sound-check my ear-piece, and loop my badge back around my neck as I saunter toward the Oval Office to begin my shift.
I felt like a bulimic who swallows down what she's been force fed--in this case, that it's my "civic duty" and that "good men and women died on distant shores so that I could have this privilege." I seriously felt bile rising into my throat as I filled in the circle next to "my" candidate's name. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't so much vote FOR a candidate as I did vote AGAINST his opponent. Kind of a high-stakes theme-and-variation on "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Oh, here we go: encore performance of rising bile.
I don't remember which comedian said this, but he's right: Why do we get fifty choices for Miss America, and only two for President of the United States?
I vote because, as my father taught me, it's not only my right, it's my responsibility. Shirking it would make me a substandard citizen--derelict in my duty--for the entirety of that year. Even the year my mother voted for Lyndon Johnson "because he's such a good dancer" didn't reduce her to a substandard citizen in my father's eyes. A kook, maybe, but not a substandard citizen.
His mantra was, "Even if you go into that booth and you pull the lever with one hand while you're holding your nose with the other, you vote."
So, like I said, today I vo(mi)ted. But, honest to the lord above, Dad, I really think that this year it would have felt like an act of heresy even for you. I hope you're resting in peace now.
I adjust my dark shades, sound-check my ear-piece, and loop my badge back around my neck as I saunter toward the Oval Office to begin my shift.
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Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story beginning with the words "I voted - " You can continue the sentence as you wish. Beyond the opening lines there are no rules. Maximum word count is 500 words. |
 Recognized |
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