Jimmy Olsen lay between two gar-bage cans in the alley. It felt like an elephant on fire was sitting on his chest. Night Lord’s gang scattered. Distant sirens grew ever fainter.
The eleven-year-old choked on his own blood, tears filling his eyes and fear pouring out along with his life.
Powerhouse. Powerhouse, where were you? You promised to protect me. Power-house, help me. I could really use a super-hero right now. I’m going to die. I’m scared. Please, Powerhouse, you could have stop-ped them. Help, somebody save me!
A Middle Eastern man in a shining white robe walked up, his sandals going clipety-clip on the pavement.
Jimmy whimpered, “Powerhouse?”
His hero scooped him up, holding him in his arms like he was still a baby. The pain left like a bad dream.
Jimmy spotted the ugly scar on his hero’s wrist and gasped—he knew this Man!
Tears engulfed his hero’s cheeks. “Let’s go home, son.”
Continued Next Tuesday
Tales of the Dim Knight is coming out as book later this Summer