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Superheroes Someone once told me that I would see a brighter day. I told them I must be blind. This world of ours is headed straight for the drain. "What about the superheroes?" "Hmph. Superheroes don't exist. Those folks flying around up there are just to afraid to come down here and live a normal life. They're all idealistic cowards." A man beside us was wearing a flannel jacket and a mesh cap. I think it was green, but there was so much dust and dirt on it, that it might have been blue. He leaned over. "That's a sad thought, friend." "Really?", I said. "Yeah. If those guys are cowards, how do you explain them rescuing people?" "Rescuing us? If they were rescuing us, we'd be safe. But we aren't, are we? Those damn fools just move us farther back from the goal." "The goal?" "Ending our miserable little existences. What else is there? We got dropped here to fuck and die." "Alright then, friend. See life how you want to. I think they are great." At this point he leaned back to his spot at the counter. Having spoken that way, I felt like a fool. I didn't really believe that stuff. I just couldn't see them as superheroes. "Hey buddy, I--" He got up. He was no longer a man. He was a mass of flesh moving towards the register. The closer he got to the end of the counter, the more I noticed the protrusions in the back of his jacket. They seemed to make a V in the plain, plaid fabric. I paid my bill right behind him. He was headed for a big black rig with some logo on the side. I looked plainly at it, but I couldn't make myself notice it. I walked up to him. He looked a bit melancholy. His eyes were open, but they didn't seem to look at anything. He reminded me of blind people I had seen in pictures. His head shook a little; just enough for me to notice. As he was getting in to his truck, I called to him. "Hey!" "Yeah?" "I didn't mean what I said back there. My friend was--" "Don't worry about it. Come here. I want to show you something." I stepped carefully into the rig. He had moved to the sleeping compartment. He was still looking melancholy, but now his eyes were closed tight. He looked like he was in pain. I could tell now that he was attempting to take off his shirt. He had finished undoing each button. He seemed afraid to take the shirt off his shoulders. He reached around instead and started pulling at the bottom of his shirt. His jacket lay behind him on the bed. He looked like someone taking off the last few wraps of an ACE bandage. Finally he was done. He mumbled something under his breath. "I hope he's happy. I'm about to save my last life." "Look at my back." He spoke more loudly. I looked at his back for the first time. There were blood stains on the shirt in the same shape as the protrusions. I began to feel sick. As he peeled up the shirt, my mind began to float. I could feel the obvious rising to the surface of my mind, even before I entered the rig. In truth, I knew the minute I saw his back in the diner. His shirt was off. The blood stains on his shirt were replaced with giant scars on his back. They weren't normal, though. They didn't go into his...skin. They reminded me of...the scars of a... amputee. I felt a rush of cold air, and I heard a distant thud, but I couldn't place it. My eyes opened. I was in the passenger's seat of the rig. He spoke. "How do you feel?" I tried to speak, but my vocal chords wouldn't work quickly enough. It was as though I had slept for 10 years. "i'm okay" "That's good. You hit your head on the floor when you passed out." I looked back. There was a blood stain on the floor. I soon realized there was a matching one on the back of my head. I had to speak about what I had seen. "Are you...?" "Yes. I saw you that night. I recognized you in the diner." "Why didn't you say anything?" "I... I'm having just as hard a time with this as you are." I was about to snap. How could he feel any pain? It wasn't his best friend! As soon as I had thought it I was sorry. I felt foolish. I asked him about it. "Who...did it?" "I assume you mean my wings. I...I...did it." I felt sick again. "I did it right after he died. I couldn't bear the pain. I never wanted to be able to do that again. I never wanted to fly again." -Forthelove |