1931
The night was cold and the air thin, there would be no wind tonight, making the streets of New York City silent. It was like walking through a graveyard no sound except the rustling of leaves or the chirping of birds, here there was no sound except a mysterious bang or occasional smash of a bottle. I walked through those dark and silent streets. You didn't know when a stranger could have attacked you, especially in these times. People desperate for money, for food, for anything to survive this Sickness. It infected, mutated, poisoned millions and turned the wealthy into homeless almost overnight.
But I had no time to keep worrying what was around me. I had to move faster, to get to the place before they left. Speeding up my walking I turned left towards a rectangular sign. The lighting was low and so I could barely read what was inscribed on it. I reached into my pocket and took out a box of matches that was placed there. I didn't smoke but it's hard to navigate anything in the pitch black dark. I took out a single match, and struck it against the side of the matchbox. It ignited instantly producing a single orange flame. I moved it across the sign, it read "BROOKLYN DOCKS." Smiling I waved out the match and continued on my journey. A few minutes went by before the sound of the sea hit me. The waves clashing slightly against the wall of the docks making a tranquil, friendly noise. More sound hit me. Not a friendly noise something dark and evil. A crash of an ornament and then a yell of anger, humans were at the docks tonight. Like a curious cat moving swiftly down an alleyway as it hears the scream of two other animals of it's species as they prepared to fight – so did I move quickly towards the man shouting, ducking slightly so that no one could hear me
I found the perfect spot. The docks were positioned below a hill not that far away from the sign. As my eyes were becoming used to the dark above the docking area was a crooked hut. Holes filled it's raised roof which was being supported by two worn out metal poles. It was fairly big but looked as thought it served no purpose except as a unofficial storeroom for broken junk. The hill was around level with the foot of the roof, providing a point where I could see all the action below.
"Be careful with this one okay? You think you can fucking handle something for once?" Said one of the men, with a touch of sarcasm.
He looked like the leader of the group. He was leant with his elbow resting on a stack of boxes whilst a group of his men loaded and unloaded boxes onto a small boat. It was surprising they could sail with that much shipment. The boat wasn't long, it didn't look sturdy those wooden boxes should have sunk it.
"Okay boss. I'll be careful." Said the fattest man of the group.
Bald, wearing a hat two sizes to small than his head he lifted a single long, wooden box on his own whilst his comrades were taking one box between two men. It caused me to remember why I was there, not to look like an observer at a zoo, but as a photographer. It was strange why I had to do the job though, it was only my fourth day on the job and he was letting me work without supervision. My boss Ben Urich sent me, not by his own voice, but from a note from some guy. The man said that he was told to give me a note from our employer which read "12 0' clock Brooklyn docks. Theft by a couple of goons. Don't forget your camera!" I didn't understand why he wanted me to go to the docks but I wanted to keep my job. I needed the job, Aunt May and Uncle Ben couldn't live entirely on the money they were making. So I took the job no questions asked but I could understand why Urich didn't want to go himself. Those men didn't follow the code of law. They were hardened criminals who looked as though they'd kill a man as soon as they'd see them, he was obviously scared he could get hurt, I thought.
There was no way I could get the picture whilst they were looking at me. The flash would startle them. They would know it was me taking the picture. Then what would happen? Beaten? Killed? The risk needed taking. I had a duty to make sure those men were publicised, the evidence given to the police so that they could arrest those men for the trouble they caused. That was my first sense of a duty to protect, I suppose. The only way the picture could be taken is if I ran as fast as I could after taking it And not stop running either. The night would take some of the picture away, but they had set up lamps on top of the boxes to give them light giving me a better image. I set up the camera and clicked the button that would potentially make or break my career. It flashed. One of the men turned round and looked at me with a shocked expression on their face. I sprinted, like an antilope getting chased by a ferocious lion so that it could escape with it's life – so did I run away from those monsters. It wasn't from looking around that I knew they was chasing me, it was from the shouts of the men. Curiosity taking me I turned round and saw them running up the hill behind me. I turned back round to a fist in my eyes. He must have saw me and waited until I reached his position. His face blurred left and right as though there were two twins standing before me until only darkness filled my eyes.