Ghost
I sit perched at the top of a tall building. Down below, a man is walking, draped in a white lab jacket. His hands hold a small, white bag with delicate contents inside. He holds the bag like a newborn baby, occasionally glimpsing to see if anyone is following him. He’s running with a secret and he’s desperate to keep it.
Unfortunately, he does not reach home, not in the second I see three men slip from the darkness, wearing dark, ragged outfits. They notice the man is carrying something important, or maybe they were following him all along. I don’t have time to figure out what will happen, nor does this man. They surround him and guns are drawn immediately. The robbers laugh as they hear him plead. I can hear their guttural laughs amidst the breeze of the busy night.
I lower my mask and prepare my descent. I am to face these robbers. I swore to fight them to bring justice to the people they prey upon. This man, in a white jacket, is the reason I scan the streets every night, waiting for men with ill-intent, yearning to spill some blood.
Rooftop to the ground, my feet touch the concrete in a matter of seconds. It feels unreal falling between the man and the salivating robbers with ease. One criminal screams my name. They redirect their guns. The one on my right is slow. I lunge towards him, striking the gun from his hand and sending the cold metal crashing on the concrete.
“Stop!”
The fat, aging man, who appears to be the leader, screams and I realize his reason for doing so. His gun points to my head. He has me where I can’t escape or move fast enough. The light gleams on the barrel of the black metal, shining from the moon. His hands rattle like a cornered prey, yet he holds the power to end my life.
For a second, I cannot breathe. I realize how close I am to my end, more than any time in my years of being a masked vigilante. This time they have me. They have me where I cannot escape. A surge of energy fills up my consciousness, something that takes over me cannot be explained or put to words.
The gun goes off. The streetlamp sparks and shatters, leaving only darkness behind. The man behind me screams and takes off and leaves me wrestling with the 300-pound man. I strike his belly and break his arm. He wails with a loud cry. The final blow comes with a knock on his head, sending him sprawling on the cold concrete.
I rise slowly, cape frolicking in the wind. I’m reminded of the man I had just saved, if he had run away and escaped with his life. But he didn’t, and now he lies on the ground next to the lamppost. I rush to his side and see the pool of blood. He’s shot and grows weaker every minute.
I cannot not bear seeing what could have happened to me happen to someone else. I’d vowed to save people so this would not happen to anybody else, for as long as I could stand on my feet and pound with my fist.
The man still breathes and bears a chance to survive, or at least talk.
“Thank you for saving me.”
“You are injured. You need some help.”
“Take these with you.” He placed the white bag in my hand and pressed firmly. “One life does not matter. Save the city, Ghost.”
