Time to Dust off Some of my Older Stuff.

In previous versions of my site, I had posted some short works and even my entire novels. As I rebuild my presence here online, I’d like to be able to share some of the work I’m most proud of.

Sure, there will be more stuff coming. I love writing little snippets that can sometimes blossom into larger stories. But the beauty of short stories and one-offs is that they are short so every word really matters. I only have a page or two to set the scene and then tell a story. What a challenge!

So as a Friday treat, I’d like to bring that back. Sometimes it will be something old, sometimes something new. It all depends on what my world helps me deliver or what is polished enough to let the rest of the world see. Some may be in rough shape that others too, but that’s the nature of creativity sometimes.

So here is today’s offering. One that I am really proud of and that I have reworked for many years to really fine-tune it.

Inside a SuperHero’s Head

I entered my apartment using my other entrance, the one hidden in the shadows, the one no one else knew about.  Battered and sore from the night’s activities, I began to pull the fitted leather jacket I used for an attempt for armor from my aching body, letting it fall to the floor as I walked down the dimly lit hall.  All I could think of was getting into the shower and let the heat soothe my aching muscles and wash away the night’s grime.

Inside the shower, I stood under the water in relative darkness so that I couldn’t see the color of the water at the bottom of the tub.  I tried not to think of anything and just let the heat help my battered body.  It didn’t work, it never really did.  Every time I closed his eyes I was transported back in time to that night when everything changed.

I had been happy with my love by my side.  We had been discussing the movie we just left and were trying to decide if we wanted to get something to eat or just call it a night.

In a blink of an eye, our happy, normal, life was destroyed.  There was nothing either of us could have done.  According to the police report, it was a gang initiation attack and nothing more.  I had been hit on the head with a pipe and knocked unconscious but my love wasn’t as lucky.

I woke up in the hospital with a severe concussion, broken ribs and in a world of hurt, but alive.  My love wasn’t as lucky and lay in the morgue while I lay in a hospital bed.

The doctors were amazed at how fast I healed from my injuries, much faster than normal.  I didn’t care about healing.  I was angry.  Angry at the gang members that had attacked us, at the EMT crew for not getting there fast enough, the doctors for not saving my love, the world and mostly myself for surviving.

I drug my butt out of the shower only when the hot water became lukewarm.  After drying my body, I wiped the towel over the steamy mirror to survey the damage of the night.

The black eye was the worst of the lot.  I only vaguely cataloged the other injuries sustained that night.  Nothing a bit of Vicodin couldn’t cure.

Climbing into bed just as the night’s sky was turning from its inky blackness to shades of purples and oranges, I checked my calendar to make sure I didn’t have an early appointment that my day job seemed to like to torture me with.  I was lucky that all I had was a conference call at ten that morning.  Something I could do from my bed if I had to.

“Where were you last night?” Carl asked via text.

“Off line.  Had some stuff to do around the apartment,” I typed back.

“I tried calling.”

“Forgot to charge my cell… again,” I explained, hoping that it was a good enough excuse.

“Wanna grab some lunch?”

“Not sure.”

“Come on dude.  Ya gotta leave that apartment once in a while.”

I checked to see how my eye was healing before replying.  The bruises were almost all gone by now.

“Uh, I guess.”

“Cool.  Twelve-thirty at Harry’s?” Carl asked.  Harry’s Pub was Carl’s favorite lunch spot for now, mostly because of the waitress Carl had his eye.

“Sure.”  I rolled my eyes knowing we were not going for the cuisine but at least the beer was always cold.

“Did you hear that there was another sighting of that mysterious guy again?  Stopped a mugging and was caught on a traffic camera,” Carl said as we waited for our food to arrive.

‘Oh Shit,’ I thought.  “No, I haven’t seen the news yet today.”

“Yeah, he put some Gangers in the hospital.  Looks like they were about to make a drug deal or something too.  The news said they had coke on them.  Enough to get ‘intent to sell’ charges on them when they get out of the hospital.”

“Really?” I asked, glad the gang members would hopefully see some jail time.  But that was only if Robert Ricardo, the big Gang boss in town, didn’t find them some high priced, sleazy lawyer to get them out of it.  “Any idea on the mystery guy is?” I asked, hoping the media was still completely clueless.

“Not much really.  He’s too fast to really get caught.  They say he’s got super speed or something.  That and it looks like he can really take a beating.  The police want to “meet” with him.  I think they just don’t like having him go all vigilante for them.”

‘I bet they want to talk,’ I thought.

“But all they really seem to know is that he always wears a dark leather jacket and a hat or hoodie under it.”

“At least he’s not wearing yellow spandex or worse,” I joked.

“Yeah, you bet man.”

“What’s the media calling this vigilante?” I asked a bit curious.

“Nothing catchy yet.  I’m sure they will come up with something ‘Super’ soon, unless he turns out to be some kind of psycho or something worse than a Ganger.”

I knew Carl was only joking around but the idea that I was getting seen and may be considered worse than the gangs made me want to hurl.

I sat in my apartment, after promising myself that I wouldn’t go out that night.  I had gotten too close to getting caught the night before and didn’t want to answer questions by the authorities or worse.  The media would rip me apart, asking questions I didn’t want to answer or couldn’t answer and digging up all of my past.  My past was buried along with my love. 

Before I realized it, I was dressed in my leather jacket with gloves and gray hoodie and was opening the hatch to the roof of the apartment building.  My love loved that we “owned” the roof even though the apartment below was a bit on the small side for the two of us.

It only took a moment to hear the tell-tale sounds of someone in trouble somewhere down below.  The city was alive.  I could hear it calling to me, to protect those who couldn’t be protected, for justice, for my love.  Maybe someday the gangs would disappear and I could be at peace again but that was not tonight.