Encounter With the Red Skull

It was a cold fall day and I just got back from my job at the school. I was a teacher, I taught all the music classes in the elementary and high school. I lived in a small town, three hours away from Chicago. The town I lived in was one of those towns where people haven’t heard of, unless they were at least close enough by maybe, sixty miles—and still not always then.

I just microwaved some supper and brought it with me to the living room where I spent most of my time with the TV. That or on my computer laptop. I thought it was going to be another normal day like always. I watched the news before my regular programming to find some other evil mastermind had tried taking over New York again.

I was glad I lived far enough away from the bigger cities like Chicago where some troublesome events happened there too. I was familiar with Spiderman, the Fantastic Four, Superman, Batman, and even Iron man. They were all on the news. Most of them were rich or snobby, in my mind. Batman obviously has to be rich to get those gadgets and the batmobile, yeah, he was rich. From what I saw of the Fantastic Four on TV: a jock, a nerd, a tough guy, and a sister of a jock. Superman thinks that all problems can be taken care of with kindness and compassion. I used to believe in that when I was a gullible teen. Iron man—very rich. He can be such a snob.

There wasn’t any of that superhero stuff in my town, none of the freaky stuff—no mutants. Not that I’m racist of them. Actually, I think it would be really neat to have a mutant friend, or maybe be a mutant myself. I always wanted superpowers.

“Humph, superpowers would be neat.” I said out loud to my cats, if they were listening. I got up to put my dirty plate and silverware away. And then I went to the DVD player and slid in my music CD. I was in the mood for singing. I cranked the music up so I could hear it from the kitchen while I washed the dishes.

I filled the sink with hot soapy water and let it run for a moment. I then walked back into the living room to advance the disk to one of my favorite songs. When I walked in the living room I did not expect to see a large man with a red-looking face climb in my window.

Before I was noticed, I snuck away to my room to grab my only weapon in the house, a sword—a katana to be exact. I never really expected to use it for real, but it was real and could harm if I wanted it to. I crept around the wall to see the man, with a red looking skull of a face. And here I was thinking I was seeing things—no, this guy really did have a red skull. Wait… I’ve heard of him. He is one of the Avenger’s most wanted enemies. He was really dangerous. What was he doing in my house?!

The man took his fist and smashed the DVD player; he then looked up in my direction. I jerked back, hoping I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t about to fight this guy, no way. I was going to leave.

“There’s no use in hiding.” He said in his German accent. “You might as well come out.” He said, I could hear him advancing my way.

I jumped out of my hiding place with my sword ready to swing. “I have nothing of use to you, why are you here?” I asked.

He smiled just seeing the fear in my eyes. Of course I was scared, there was a friggen Nazi in my house!! A crazy, super strong one at that. Before I knew it my back door to my house was kicked in and more people paraded in, making themselves at home.

I turned my head back around, the Red Skull now standing in front of me, face-to-face. He took my wrist and yanked the sword from my hand. I took two steps back. The Red Skull ran his fingers along the blade, “This could do some damage.” He said, then looking back at my fearful eyes. He then bent the blade in his hands.

“Hey!” I said, forgetting the position I was in by getting frustrated over him breaking an expensive object that I treasured.

The Red Skull pushed me against the wall and grabbed my jaw with his large hand. “What was that?” he said.

I took my arms and tried forcing his hand off of me. He only laughed, “Foolish girl.” He said, “You are no match for me.” He tightened his grip, putting lots of pressure on my jaw. I tried moving my head to free his grasp, but it was to no use.

“Don’t kill me.” I said, “I’ll let you stay here, just don’t hurt me…”

“You’ll *let* us stay here?? I wasn’t going to ask for your permission.” He then threw me to the ground and pulled out his German gun and aimed it at me.

“NO! Don’t!” I said, waving my hands in the air.

He smiled, leaving his gun in the shooting position. “Why should I spare your life? You mean nothing to me, American.”

I sighed, knowing there was no way out of this position. What did I really have to fear of death anyway? It was going to be fast, he had a gun. I guess its better he killed me this way than some other horrific way. He was German, he was a Nazi. He could do something worse if he wanted to. I heard of the stories of the Germans conducting experiments on their POWs.

“You’re right, I do mean nothing to you, shoot me.” I said.