Over on Dan Alatorre’s wonderful blog, I found a flash fiction challenge that intrigued me. The premise is to take a line and use it as the basis for a story of a thousand words. so from a list, I picked one that caught my eye and ran with it. Here’s what happened.
Violence, as shocking as it can be, holds a certain charm for me. Most especially when I face the scum of our city. Those that think they are above the law, those that prey on the weak and confused and afraid.
I have learned that to wait for law-abiding justice is to give the lawless time. Time to live, to appeal, to believe they do not have blackened husks for souls.
So I no longer wait. While I play my part in the light of day, nodding over court transcriptions, at night, I watch over the darkened city. I watch the evil among you. I make sure the old lady gets on the bus safely. I take out the guy who has silently broken that lock, just before he climbs into the house where a single mother and child sleep. I interrupt the conversation between the man and the child he is attempting to lure away with his dog.
Someone who broke into a Mom & Pop store to steal food so their kids can eat the next day do not deserve justice, but help. I do not tell the police about them. And when they wake up the next day to find an envelope with a couple hundred dollars in it, that is how things should be. When the sun rises, the police find a few particular practitioners of evil waiting for them, bound and angry. Some seem to have met with violence along the way, and I’m fine with that. Some never see the light of another day. Some do not deserve that gift. That special brand of justice is reserved for the darker souls, the ones who would hurt children or animals, or little old ladies afraid of their own shadows.
Yes, violence is charming, quick and leaves no room for argument. And if a child molester happens to slip in a puddle and fall on a knife?
Another child safe, thousands of dollars saved the justice system.
So stop staring at his body, and hurry on home to your warm bed. You can thank me later.