Wandering the empty halls of my forgotten castle, I stroked the dusty walls, leaving finger lines in peculiar patterns where I touch. The empty rooms leave behind people's spirits, the ghosts of furniture, and the shadows of memories from years before.
An end table stands pressed against the wall, an end table that had been left behind when the old man passed. Opening the drawer, I noticed the familiar extra items he used - tools for his job. In case he ever ran out - he was always prepared.
Shutting the end table drawer, chuckling to myself, I walked down the hallway with my hands in my pockets, remembering when I used to run down these long halls and skid with my socks at the end, pretending I could glide like the old man could.
I come upon my old room - the one I stayed in for brief periods of time when I could, and extended periods of time when I had to. I really had no problem with staying here, but I'm 50 years old now, and the memories seem faraway. Part of someone else's life, so long ago.
I push back the familiar door, hearing the creak of the hinge I always promised to oil, but never did because of that old-feel noise, I walked into the small room. Computer in the corner, cot against the wall - I didn't want a bed, it made this feel too homey - and my old dresser.
Crossing the room to the dresser pressed up against the wall, pressed so tightly it seemed like it was trying to get away from me, I pried open the ancient drawers and peered in. The outfits, folded neatly, ready to be worn, sat there. They looked like Halloween costumes - bright colors, flashy designs.
Chuckling under my breath, I pulled the solitary mask out from the side of the drawer and pulled it around my skull. Acting like I would have in my younger days, I spun around, and chopped at empty air as though I believed there was an unseen attacker lurking in the dust motes swirling about.
I stopped suddenly, remembering that's not who I am anymore. I pulled off the old mask with a slow sigh, and tucked it back in the corner of the drawer. I softly pushed the drawer back into it's place, and turned to leave.
I reached my original goal - the place I had been trying to reach, where the old man had told me he left something for me. I hadn't come for it for so long, and now I should find it. Turning to the familiar desk, pulling back the top of the bust and pressing the button - something I had always wanted to do as a child - and seeing the bookcase pull back.
I looked around me, checking to make sure nobody was watching - no unseen attacker or curious visitor - and jumped down the pole as I had so many times before. I missed Mr. Wayne, but I would always have these memories.
I am Robin.
(Hehe another stretch for another Batman post but so worth it! Don't be all like, "Ooh, Robin died!" and enjoy the story! Happy TT!)