Highwayman

“Ezra! Come back here, please!”

Gun shots could be heard from off in the distance. Ezra glanced back at the young woman he was leaving behind. She struggled with her dress, as the neighbors started coming out of their houses. He smirked, tipped his hat, and turned his back on her. As beautiful as she was, no woman was worth his death. He climbed up onto the back of his horse, Diamond, and took off.

The closer the shots got, the faster he started to go. This wasn’t going to be the day he got caught. He hadn’t even held anyone up. The worst thing he had done was take advantage of an innocent girl who just wanted love.

She’d get over it though.

Ezra watched out the window, studying the newest family to take over his “home”. He wasn’t too fond of sharing, but if they knew he lived there, they probably wouldn’t be too fond of him either. It wasn’t like he chose to live there anyway. He had spent the better part of the last few hundred years trying figure out how to escape it. In the time he had been there, three different houses had been built and torn down in the exact same spot. Each time he tried his absolute hardest to leave, but could never get a foot off the property. For whatever reason, he was meant to be there.

“Mom, I’m hungry!” The youngest boy whined, rushing past all of the boxes, cutting his older sister off, and entering the house. He stormed up the stairs, pointing and shouting at the rooms, declaring one after another, “his”.

Ezra rolled his eyes. As a child he would have never behaved so badly. He wouldn’t have even held the door for his mother because he would be the one carrying in the boxes, not her. Sometimes he desperately wanted to step out in front of those who he coexists with, and give them a lecture on how to use manners and show respect. The thought always made him smile though; it seemed a bit hypocritical. He had, after all, been a highwayman.

“We’ll get something to eat as soon as all the boxes are in the house. Now come down here and help your mother!” The father yelled from the bottom floor. He was one measly box in his hand, while his wife carried three and a bag.

It didn’t take long for Ezra to uncover the roles of each member in that family. It seemed the father was a chauvinistic pig, the mother was the work horse, the daughter hid from everything, and the young boy was an unappreciative spastic little brat.

After an hour or so of watching Ezra couldn’t take it anymore. He had to step away, retreating to his “room” in the attic. As he sat down, resting his eyes, he tried to shake the images this family had already put into his head. They were just awful people and there was no telling how long they’d be around.

If there was ever a time he had wished his soul had moved on, it was then.