This Independence Day I had a realisation most distraught.
From an early age we are taught to appreciate things of a violent nature. A child will fascinate at the spectacle of lights displayed high above as a firework is ignited. But at the sudden boom of an explosion, a child will become afraid. A child instinctual knows that this sudden burst of energy is something to be feared. Yet we, as parents, instruct them to marvel at it, in celebration. We down play the destructive nature of the event with patronising Ooh's and Ah's.
Then we wonder why a child will do something against common sense. We wonder why our children do reckless or destructive things. I know I did.
I once put a screwdriver into a light socket to create fireworks. The sparking was fascinating. I even remember plugging the lamp into a different outlet because the first one had ran out (tripped it's breaker). It wasn't until after the second breaker was tripped, and the T.V. shut off, before I was made to realize.
An inability to sit comfortably and constant adult supervision led me to understand that light bulbs are the only things that belong in light sockets and the T.V. is to remain on except in the case of serious injury or death.
* * *
One of the men reaches for the shadow and is greeted with a swift kick to the side of his face. His head impacts with the metal table creating a resounding gong and knocking the man unconscious.
The shadowy form grapples with the second man as he brings his assault rifle up to fire. The shade strips the rifle from the mans hands, flips it around, and points it back at him.
Just then, the third man leaps over the table brandishing a crowbar. The butt of the rifle meets the third man squarely in the face. His eyes roll into the back of his head as blood streams from his nose. The shadow assailant sidesteps the third man's awkward dive as he hits the concrete flooring like a sack of potatoes. The crowbar falls, lazily from his hands and clangs onto the floor.
Pleased, the assaulter grabs the rifle by it's barrel and lines up a golf swing. The second man attempts to raise his hand in a sign of mercy as the shade swings his arms backward. The full, brutal force of the rifle butt catches the second man under the chin and whips his head up and back. His feet pitch forward as his body is carried into the air. The back of his skull meets the concrete with a "Tok!" and his body settles into motionlessness.
The orange warning lights high in the ceiling finish their rotation to illuminate the face of the shadowy assailant. The face is not human and resembles that of a skull. Wide eyes within the skull's eye sockets gleam with satisfaction. The apparition corrects his grip on the rifle, lines up the sights with each of the unconscious body, and pantomimes shooting while yelling, "Bang! Bang! Bang! You are all dead."
He discards the gun and retrieves the crowbar. He smashes it against the metal table with a sideswing. With each swing, a loud "Pang!" drowns out the sound of desperate footsteps and hurried commands.
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls..." The spectre yells out across the warehouse before throwing the crowbar into the second tier office window overlooking the warehouse floor, "... for it tolls for thee!"
