Listen to Strangers

A short squat man sat upon a rock in the park. He wasn’t much more than a living gargoyle. A man, old and grey with age, was sitting so still that he could have been a statue. His eyes twitch open, and they meet the gaze of a little boy holding the hand of his mother. In a very faint whisper, he said, “Get behind me.”
“Excuse me?” the woman said, but she was cut off by a wave of his hand as he leapt from his perch. With a motion of his hands, he made a circle in the air, and an aura of red grew from his hands.
Again, he said in a slightly louder voice, “Get behind me.” The child and his mother looked slack jawed at the little man. Just as the mother was dragging the child away from the weird little man, a truck burst through the bushes. The truck was headed right for the little man, child, and his mother. The red aura the little man seemed to hold in his hands burst forth toward the truck. The truck was suspended in midair not three feet from the little man. He turned toward the little boy and mother and said, “You should listen when someone tries to help.”