The Dark Knight

The paint slid down the canvas. It was dark, as deep as the night, and its mere passage imbued everything it touched with its essence. A dark so profound, that the thugs in the alley could barely see each others’ faces. It had been a long night of robbing storefronts and the three were almost done.

An old man stumbled between them, like a battered ball being tossed back and forth. His wallet lay on the ground, empty, and the thugs’ raucous laughter punctuated his whimpers. He tripped and fell, a stopwatch shattering on the pavement, peppering the canvas with flecks of black paint.

Layers met and diverged, moving, the color flowing like an obedient herd, guided by the girl’s brush. A gray ravine emerged from the black, spanning the white between two dark cliffs. Sharp as blades, they climbed high, higher than the gargoyle on which the shadow perched, watching.

He saw the dark, and the sin, everything that made this city reek with crime. Everything that made the criminals crawl out of the woodwork everyday, the injustice, and the hate.

His will hardened into a cold spear once again, a deadly grimace on his face. The black figure coiled and spread his cape.

Dawn was about to break, but for the thugs down below, the night had just begun.



– a big shoutout to the incredibly talented Manvi Tyagi for the bat painting and the inspiration. Show her some love and follow her Instagram page at @datduskychick


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