Dear Kit Walker (Phantom)

To, 

Kit Walker aka the 21st Phantom, the Ghost who walks, the Man who cannot die
Skull Cave, Deep in the heart of Bangalla, Africa
C/o Lee Falk

Dear Kit Walker

As kids, most of my friends were fascinated by you. The fact that you were 21st in a series of Phantoms going back in time to the year 1536 added considerably to your appeal.

The makers took pains to build on your ancestors’ stories, which I found fascinating, influencing my views about the significance of the back story. But there were several inconsistencies in history and storylines so I always skipped them in favour of you.

The idea that the first Phantom swore to fight evil on the skull of his father’s murderer was an interesting part of the premise. Each new Phantom accepted the responsibility from his dying father, swearing the oath, “I swear to devote my life to the destruction of piracy, greed, cruelty and injustice, in all its forms, and my sons and their sons shall follow me.”

Yours was a crusading tradition steeped in patriarchy, but back then I never questioned it. I did occasionally wonder what would happen if a particular Phantom sired only daughters or if a son refused to take on the legacy of crime fighting.



The skull was to leave its mark on many aspects of your universe, the Skull Cave and the Mark. Roughnecks learned to fear the mark left by your signet ring when it collided violently with their external anatomy. Legend said the mark never left.

You had another ring with the “Good Mark,” with which you marked those who were under your protection. Even the animals of the jungle recognized the mark. 

Where possible, you would be accompanied by Devil, your wolf, and Hero, your horse, but otherwise you were a one-man army. You had no superpowers; you were all too-human, and had to rely on your wits, your physical strength and intelligence and a few weapons to fight crime.

I wondered sometimes whether the skintight costume did not inhibit easy movement and how on earth could you see through a mask that had no slots through which your eyes could peek.


I used to think it was very cool to trick people into thinking you were immortal when actually you weren’t. I guess the costume was needed to maintain your identity. But didn’t you ever realize that you were compromising your identity by relying on the tom-tomming of the jungle drums for your communication? There was always a possibility that the secret might leak.

After all, no one but your family and closest friends, certainly not us readers, has ever seen your face unmasked. For jungle lore decreed that those who see your face will “die a terrible death.”

Those jungle sayings were a hoot. 

“Phantom has a thousand eyes and a thousand ears.” 

“Phantom moves with the power of a charging bull elephant.” 

“Phantom moves softer than a stalking great cat.”

I realize today that those sayings couldn’t possibly have been true, but they added to your legend, and that was all that mattered.





For those who came in late, the Ghost who walks still walks.