flash fiction

There wasn't much he could do, except stand back. The morning was grey, the festival quiet, about to begin. He watched his daughter run into the crowds, her red duffel flying behind her. Dark coats stumbled back bemused, their eyes turning generous at the sight of her joy.

The fog seemed to lift slightly from the shadows as the gurgle of her giggle rose. He smiled to himself, thinking that at least he had this, this moment, this love.

Later they told him there was nothing he could have done differently. No one could have expected it.

Sirens blasted from the other side of the square, and the man whose gunshots were heard fired aimlessly at the crowd. He was tasered to the ground and bundled into a police car, but not before his bullets caused a shriek.

Blood seeped crimson on the cold hard stone, and people started screaming. The father ran and when he saw the red duffel coat he tried to save her and there was nothing he could do except hold her as his wife behind him howled.

"Do something," she said, over and over again.