text: Ned lives in Dusk Island, Australia. He thought he was a superhero. It ruined his normal life, and turned it around and around, until it became a withered heap of nothing. One boring rainy night Ned ducked under his small splintery wooden framed door. *Today something fun will happen.* He thought. He had just read a book about superheroes. He had liked it so much, that he had wanted to become one. *I’ll be super Ned!* He thought as he skipped across the cool damp lawn. It was lit by a faint tall lamp post that stood by the beaten road. He sloshed across the lawn with his wet leather shoes. He thought leather was cool. Infact, he thought it was so cool, his whole outfit was made of it. He was outside at nighttime, because he had wanted to catch a criminal. He should have known it wouldn’t work. He ran across the wet pavement, his leather shoes thumping on the beaten pavement. He ran all around until he reached a bridge. This bridge stretched across the ocean. It led to Sydney. He could see the tall skyscrapers up in the sky. The Sydney Opera House lit up the dark sky. The moon was covered up by thick wet clouds. He came to the end of the bridge. Then he ducked under the toll booth. He ran through the loud city, looking for crime. He ran all around the city. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He wad hurting all over. His skinny body was not used to such exercise. He sat on a bench next to an old man. He instantly felt better. The old man was leaning on a small tin trash can next to the bench. He looked pretty bad. *Bad as in crime.* Ned thought. Ned sat next to him and waited for the man to do some crime. He sat there. He waited a couple minutes, then he looked at his clanky old watch. It was midnight. Time for crime. Ned’s back was pressed against the cold metal bench. He was waiting still. The old man croaked, “Whatcha doing?” “What??,” said Ned the old man had surprised him. “Oh! Uhhh... Nothing!!” The old man cracked a smile. His yellow teeth were coated with plague. He smelled like cigarettes. Ned ran behind some nearby bushes. His leather shoes were soaked from the cold wet grass. He had to wait for the crime to happen. The old man had to be alone. After about five minutes of waiting, he saw the old man walk into a jewelry store. *Old men don’t go to jewelry stores at night!* Ned thought. The old man walked out. An alarm was sounding. Ned ran over to the man. The old man bashed him across the forehead, and walked home, back to his house. His home he had owned for years. The one with the small splintery wooden doorway. The one with the beaten road beside it.