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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: dreamscape

Young toughs including a woman proceed to rob an older gentleman, more than bargained for, fends them off. The law doesn't find a simple case of self defense and expects to lay charges.

Broad daylight be the hour and several young toughs elect to occupy themselves.


An old unassuming man is perambulating down the street, cane in hand, not pleasurably, more akin to having a place to go. Under a minute reaches the bus shelter. Age qualifies him for free bus rides, instead without skipping a beat on his pace or a glance at the several youths occupying the shelter, goes past.


Approximately half a minute on and was well past and even rounded the corner, out the shelter’s sight. The five youths are gaining, when they reach, the elder stops, his face quizzical. Girl, concurrent with a pleasant smile inquires the time.


At home would be something for the young to lay eyes on black and white photos of a younger military man.


A glance at him suggested in his seventh decade of life...


A man suddenly seizes him, his struggles prompt another man to seize him as well, his septenary self manoeuvred free.


The girl stresses get this over and done. He is surrounded. His head swivelled back and forth once at his foes anxiously.

A man lunges only to receive a smack to the forehead delivered by walking stick. The next guy rushes in and eats a horizontal cane to the stomach and second knock to the back of the neck sprawling him.


The brigands are taken aback. Their pause was to last though.


The girl vicious, ‘Finish him!’ Could this mean more than robbery?


She the leader or not, the command renewed their vigour. His eyes were on her and foot step sounds directed his vision to an approaching guy from the front who managed to grab the stick firmly in place, the old man couldn’t dislodge…next felt a weight on the back.  


His pocket has a sensation of a hand poking - a wallet is removed. Thanks to another man at his side. The elder can barely move.


Something had to give. Life fading is slowly collapsing to the ground. The woman on his back slowly slid off. Tends to happen with a switch blade jammed between the ribs. The old tough cognizant enough to snatch it from the attacker at his side.


Searing pain in the love muscle. Kneed in the groin. The fellow holding the cane was distracted in a donnybrook by the woman. Motions to fall over before that happened caned across the nose bridge, disfigurement in a flash.  


Now the chap at the side’s turn. Tip of the cane smashes in the joint between top of the foot and bottom of the leg. The deltoid ligament. He held it with his hands forced to stand on one leg.


Five either on the ground or in no doubt concerning the brain’s pain receptors. The old man unharmed, supports himself with the cane as normal.


Time forbade its own movement. Roughly half a minute went, the old man was rather disbelieving himself. In the heart of hearts hadn’t expected the outcome a forgone conclusion. The last time anything close to this could come in the past would be in war time. Before he can do anything more, two cyclists come upon the scene. The elder smashes the cane upon the nose bridge an attacker.


Some news outlets posted smiling images of some of the assailants. Perception as they say is in the eye of the beholder. The law found fault with the guy. The prosecutors office contention was not his self-defence. Saying he mustn’t thwart brigands is preposterous. See was their attempt to portray a second victim, the recipient of the second nose bridge adjustment. That moment in time the fight was over, the geezer had neutralized all threats around his person, therefore a case to be presented turned from defender to opposite.


The woman’s knifing was not in contention.


The cyclists reported the old man related who started what and why. They expressed that they were loath to find reason to doubt.


The public is quite opinionated and not all of it sides with authorities expecting to lay charges. Justice for the criminal again went the cry.





Submitted: April 27, 2019

© Copyright 2021 dreamscriber. All rights reserved.

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Ah, dreamscriber, if it had not been for that final one should have to be fearful of walking alone but so many are, because of such incidents.

Sat, April 27th, 2019 7:28pm


Old ain't weak - its punks who had to fear. Silly ass law I put and feel set it apart from a run of the mill 1 vs many tale.

You will not be seeing me a few months whilst I begin overdue work on novella/ SP - Portrait of Perdition. About several groups of people during an apocalypse and the US military nukes its own people, sacrificing even more to settle a supernatural threat.

Sat, April 27th, 2019 3:22pm

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