Alina Mashanlo 

English 11 

3 October 2017 

Mr. Barozzoul 

                                      “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”

“He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.” 

While the firing squad were preparing their aim a metallic aircraft came in with a motor as loud as a swarm of enormous dragon flies. “Right on the clock,” mumbled Walter, while he was covering his eyes from the sun, that was shortly shadowed as the aircraft flew past it, dropping something that looked like a bomb of some sort. “What is that?!” cried the gunmen, they were dressed head to toe with black clothing, maybe to not see the blood that would spray at them if they all pulled the trigger on their rifles. Their hold on the guns have weakened, due to the strange object coming closer and closer as a distraction. Mumbles turned into screams, as the bomb made contact with the sandy ground, creating a mixture of dust and smoke, Mitty knew on the other hand that it was a smoke bomb that the aircraft had dropped, unlike the inscrutable gunmen. The surprise brought complete distraught over the group of executers, blinding them by covering their face masks with dampened sand.  

“The criminal!” reminded one of the shooters and they all pulled their triggers, as if they just remembered the task that needed to be completed. Walter, as always, was way ahead of them and rolled out of the way before becoming nothing but ravaged limbs. “Keep shooting,” he said with the noise of the guns murmuring out his voice, he wiped of the moist sand with the palm of his hand, and exited through the hole in the wall, that was created by the bullets that meant to hit Walter.  

He took a turn, right after he crawled through that crumbling wall and ran towards the liquor that was left sitting around on the steel bench, after noticing a handful of gunmen trying to balance on their own feet, he knew that the bottles contained alcohol and was quick to go to work. Walter ripped a part of his shirt and stuffed it into the bottle, trying to create a hand made molotov cocktail, using his still burning cigarette as a fire starter. Behind him, the gunmen noticed his absence and began to search for the convict. “Surprise,” Walter says as he lights the cloth on fire with his cigarette… 

“Hey, you have to pay for that!” informed the cashier. Walter looked down in his hands and saw a bottle of scotch, “Sorry,” he said and surrendered the alcohol. 

“Walteeeer, didn’t I tell you to wait outside for me, I told you to wait outside, so I went out but you weren’t there and I couldn’t find you. It’s the second time this happened today, the second time!” Mrs. Mitty exclaimed. Walter looked outside and finally had an excuse, “It was raining so I came inside. Sorry”  

“That’s alright, but next time just stay by the entrance so I won’t have to go everywhere looking for you, and what are you doing in the liquor isle?” She questioned, while grabbing his shirt sleeve, and pulling him out of the store towards the car, shielding herself with her purse. 

“Nothing,” he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, he carried on towards his car. 

Turning on the cars engine they began to drive of onto the road, back home. The rain water made a slight ping sound as it bounced of the roof of the car and slid down the sides, while the wind blew it sideways. Walter already found himself dozing of inside the car, but jumped back into his seat when he heard a slight bell outside in the pouring rain. He looked over into his side mirror and saw a young child on the seat of a bright red bicycle. 

…”Let’s ride!” yelled Winston as he jumped onto his motorcycle and turned a key, which made the engine roar to life. Walter slowly walked to his Red Hunter motorcycle and continued to put on his black helmet, leaving the strap unbuckled.  

“Go on! I’ll catch up and soon be riding front!” Mitty rakishly said. “In your dreams,” another member of the gang called back and they jumped on their bikes and rode of, but not without making a circle on the ground caused by their rubber tires and the smell of burned plastic. 

“Amateurs,” he muttered to himself, and let the motorcycle get two starts off before he could start to ride. Vroom Vroom and he’s off, not even a foot apart from the gang, “Behind you,” he sing-songed loud enough for them to hear over the powering sound of the bikes, “Where’d you come from?!” Winston questioned in astonishment as Walter pulled up front, and lead the team towards their next breach. “Where we heading, captain!” one yelled over the noise, “Wherever the sun takes us,” sarcasm laced his words, as he whooshed past the trees and small houses…