The Man

By Riley Burgess

“Pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat.” The black soles of the man’s green and yellow vans smacked down with a hard slapping noise. The man was big and muscular, his waxed muscles almost bulging through his black t-shirt. He t-shirt read, “FLAP” in big white letters across the front, and it was tight, bulging his muscles even more. His long brown hair bounced from left to right as he walked. The man started walking faster. He turned his head to the left and then to the right like he was searching for something. He looked at street sign that read in musty faded letters “Oak Street”. When he recognized the old letters he sped up his pace yet again and looked around once more. It was twelve o’clock and the streets were only light by a small glint of moonlight. Suddenly the man turned into the street and broke out to a sprint after noticing the car behind him. The black Honda sailed towards him, and through the darkly tinted windows the man could see his foe. The man reached down, taking off his vans. With one efficient motion he turned around and hurled his shoe, making his target the Honda’s windshield. Bull’s eye, the windshield cracked sending shards of glass everywhere, like a bomb was exploding. The car slammed on its brakes creating a loud screech, and then the car spun out of control, tumbling off the road and into a creek. Seconds later the sky was filled with springs and piles of metal as the brand-new car exploded. The man slowed his pace and casually walked down the devious path to the house. His feet pounded down on the pavement, “ pit, pat, pit, pat, pit, pat.”