Protected by Darkness

Protected by Darkness

Nomar Knight



         A starless night in the big metropolis filled my senses with all kinds of odors.  Perspiration of hard workers soaking their sorrows in tequila, rum, and other assorted poisons blended into the extraordinary landscape below.  Nothing stirred on the rooftop as humidity held a firm grip on the living.  I stayed behind a man while he stood on a ledge of a six story building.

         “Jump!” 

         One of the onlookers, at ground level, laughed, waving at the innocent grown up in the hopes of having his morbid curiosity satisfied. 

         “Can you smell it, Dexter?”

         “Hey, you scared me!” 

         My voice startled the poor fellow as he almost lost his balance.  Dexter’s eight-year-old mind remained trapped in an adult’s body.

         “Smell what?  Um, who are you?”

         “I come here often to take the city’s pulse and to breathe in the foul odor of malice.”

         “Huh?”

         The portly man-child squinted, no doubt trying to decipher what I had said.  He wore a yellow cape which he loosely tied around his neck. 

         “I’m Oscar.  That’s a nice costume you have there.”  I did my best not to sound patronizing. 

         “Those people don’t believe I can fly.”

         “Oh, don’t take it personal.  The city is full of nonbelievers.”

         He sneered, “I’ll show them.  I’m going to jump and fly high, up in the sky.”

         Again someone from the ground shouted, “Jump!”

         I spotted the troublemaker who encouraged Dexter in the hopes of viewing a suicide. 

         “Dexter,” I said in a soothing and calm voice, “What does it matter what they think?  It should be enough that at least someone believes you.  I believe you.”

         He eyed me with one eyebrow raised. 

         “You’re saying that so I can walk down with you and then they’ll laugh at me.”

         As if on cue, the wise guy cracked a joke and some of the onlookers joined him in a chorus of laughter. 

         Dexter pointed at the young, twenty-something year old in the leather jacket and jeans and yelled, “I’ll show you!  I’m going to fly down and steal your girlfriend.”

         The crowd laughed, but the instigator didn’t join them. 

         “Come on, loser!” Again he gestured for Dexter to jump.

         Dexter pounded a chubby fist into his palm. 

         Trying to reason with the kind soul, I said, “My friend, you don’t have to listen to the bad man.  The fact you’re up here shows that you are a superhero.”

         “I’m not just any superhero.”

         “Now that you mentioned it, are you supposed to be Superman?”

         The heathen downstairs curled his arm around a blond and shouted, “Come down, fat boy!  You’ll see what happens to you if you try and steal my girl.”

         The young lady elbowed him and whispered something in his ear. 

         “Did you hear what the girl told the bad man?”

         I tried to distract Dexter by making him focus on something impossible.  The fact he remained quiet signaled he just about had enough with the taunts. 

         “Of course I heard her.  She told him to stop it and that he was bad.”

         The possible accuracy in his statement impressed me. 

         The instigator restated the challenge which had Dexter totally fed up.  A number of people joined in on the taunts.

         “Jump! Jump! Jump!"

         “I had it with this guy, Oscar!”  He raised both hands at the bleak sky.  “I warned you!”

         The good thing about a starless night is that reality can easily be distorted.  Once the police flashed their huge lights, something as simple as a power outage, would leave the crowd momentarily blind.  Again I tried to stall Dexter by breaking his concentration. 

         “Look at me, Dexter.  Look at my eyes.”  I snapped my fingers to get his attention.

         “No.  I’ll show him.  I’ll show them all.”

         He sang, “Here I come to save the day!” and jumped in the air.

         “Mighty Mouse?”  I clapped my hands.  The lights flickered off and on.  I watched from the ground, unable to conceal a grin as the blond girlfriend leaned over the ledge in disbelief.  Her wise guy boyfriend soared in the air. 

         Dexter stood on the ground next to me wearing the instigator’s clothes, and uttered, “Huh?”

         The crowd gasped as the lights revealed the instigator somersaulting head first into the unforgiving concrete.  His head exploded, body parts snapped and compressed, painting the pavement blood red. 

         I whispered in Dexter’s ear.  “Sometimes superheroes don’t wear capes.” 

         He eyed me with suspicion.  “Did you do this?”

         I shrugged, “Normally, I’d let you do your Mighty Mouse thing, but this job called for angelic superpowers.”

         “Huh?”

         “Never mind.  Do me a favor.  In your jeans pocket you’ll find that poor sap’s wallet.  Go buy us some chocolate ice cream shakes while I escort the bad guy to oblivion.  I promise we’ll find a safer way to fly.”

         “What do you mean?”  I thought you believed I could fly?”

         I grinned and nearly blinded him.  “I do, it’s just that you were wearing the wrong cape.”

         “Oh.”  He checked his pocket and found six twenty dollar bills.  “How did you get us to switch?”

         “Superheroes don’t reveal their secrets.”

         I winked at him and watched as he trotted to the ice cream store. 

         When I rechecked the morbid scene, an officer tried to console the blond girl.  I couldn’t wait to get to oblivion and deal with Ted Styles, the instigator.  Sometimes in life, the innocent receive divine protection.  Sometimes, they’re protected by a dark angel, like me.



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