• “Hi, my name is Rich Blakeman, and I’m here to tell the story of how my world ended.
    I lived in the ever so colorful city of Kansas, also know as Kansas City. Before my kicking of the bucket called life, I reached the ripe old age of sixteen, only to be destroyed. Raised by a single mom who worked at the local Arby’s, I wasn’t a child who got to enjoy life to it’s fullest like so many of my peers. When holidays would roll around we would eat out at the ever common workplace, now this may not sound so happy go lucky to you, but for us it was a rare treat. Nothing against my mom or anything, because I know that she tried her best and I woke up many a night to hear her crying after these days. We were one of the unfortunate family’s who didn’t always have food in our kitchen, I mean being the skinny little teen I was it never really mattered to me anyways since I didn’t eat much in the first place.
    My favorite place to go was th roof of our little apartment, because up there I could think clearly as opposed to the cramped space that was my mentality while in the open, being observed by others of my species. I know I know, nobody wants to here the whining of a dead teenagers, but that’s about all I can do seeing as there really is no after life.
    Here let me start by saying this, my death was not an accident, I wouldn’t necessarily call it planned, but people don’t just shoot themselves, well I guess they do but that’s not how this went down.
    I was killed by a gunner on the corner of Choutoua and Parvin. My soul can’t be at rest until the person responsible for my death is dealt with, please find and catch him.”

    Sincerely,
    Richard Blakeman.

    “That’s what the note said sir.” said the doctor at the morgue to the cop at the door.