Aug. 13th, 2008

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There's blood everywhere. Still flowing from the discarded bodies of those who couldn't be dragged to safety, it blurs the lines on the streets and has splattered across storefront windows. Her own hands and clothes are stained the deepest red she's ever seen, and suddenly she's filled with revulsion for the colour she's always dreamed of wearing.

And it's her fault; she's failed them. She's not enough - too weak, too soft, too silly, too untrained and so very much just a girl with a yoyo playing at being a cool tv superhero.


It's her own retching that wakes her on these nights. She cleans up the mess, then sits shivering on her bed until the sun is bright enough to drive the real night terrors from the lawn. She transforms silently so as not to wake the others, and climbs out the window. Leaping into the air, she flies into the rising sun as if to burn away her dark fears. If she just flies hard enough, fast enough, high enough and long enough, then by breakfast she'll be able to smile for everyone again.

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not_hero_enough

December 2010

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