Return Home

Every hero is a daughter or son, and at some point even they return home.

Walking through the lonely streets again was an… odd feeling. My skin was beginning to prickle, and my hairs standing on end. I could smell the alcohol that still lingered on my skin, and I could hear the familiar ambiance of cars as they SWOOSHED past through the rain puddles from last night’s down pour. The beautiful street lights that I love started to dim as the sun began to rise and peek over the line of buildings. 
This old district has so many memories along it.  

“With that skipping rope, the trampoline
The crafty smoke that made us choke
But we didn't give up hope
It's just the simple ways, of getting paid
The carelessness of running away
I wish I stayed”

 

I wonder what they’ll think? What they will say? Knowing who I’ve become…
I had to leave my apartment. It was 2 am in the morning when I came home, my hands shaking and head pulsing. I didn’t have to leave. It was only that one little rumor that set me off, but I felt like I would risk too much if I stayed.
Plus, Bonnie and Christopher had to put up with so much of my bullshit. They let me stay with them in their dingy little flat for 3 years 
They kept saying it didn’t bother them. They didn’t mind the stuff I had to do… the job I have.  When they wake up, they’ll know that I left, and that I’m going to start a new… again.

My feet are dragging on the path, my hoodie shading my face, my arms hanging low with my backpack slung over my shoulder. My spirit had left me. Then I saw it. I saw that old house still sitting on its rickety britches. A nostalgic feeling welcomed me as I approached house 62. 

I stood up straight and slightly quickened my pace. I walked up the path and my heart started to sink a little. I just hope that they smile when they see me. I just hope they grab me and give me a hug, pat my head and tell me it’s going to be ok here. 
Everything is going to be ok.
I finally reach the stairs and began to walk up them carefully, I didn’t want to make too much noise. They might still be asleep. But surely enough a loud creak stirs the early morning air (?) . I try to be as light on my feet as possible as I move up towards the door, but when I heard Jessie barking and the sound of the morning radio I couldn’t help but run toward the door handle. I reached out for it and pushed it expecting it to open for me. I was wrong. The door was locked. Fear struck me. I looked in the small window next to the door and saw a dark empty house.

They must be out…  
My hopes were wasted on the radio being left on and a lonely barking dog… Nevermind. I use a small blast to mess with the locks and open the doors. I never knew exactly how it works but it always does. I guess I’m still trying to understand my powers. Although I use them nearly every day in my job I still don’t quite know how or why I have them. All I know is that they get me in trouble.
I don’t enjoy being a ‘super hero’. Ha. I don’t even know why I call myself that. My work only benefits my employer, never ‘the people’.

 

I sighed with great exhaustion. I shuffled over to the kitchen table and slid my back pack off my shoulders and listened to it thud onto the floor. I pulled out a chair and collapsed into it and let my head fall onto the table in a dramatic fashion (just because I could, and I felt it would be appropriate).  Of course, it wasn’t as smooth as a thought because my head just full on plunged into the table and it hurt like a b***h. 
Lovely…
I grumbled to myself. I turned my head onto the side and looked at my hand that I also had slammed onto the table. It hurt a little, but it was still it’s usual pale colour. I thought for a moment about this hand. Doesn’t sound exciting… Just…. hand. 
But, it’s done so many things… Bad things… And it contains a power that most people wouldn’t understand…

Ha. Here I am sounding like some cliché “hero”. Which I know I’m not… So I’m going to halt my thoughts and burry my face into my hands and sob while I wait…

 

…

 

Dear diary,

I understand that most of the stuff that I’ll write within your pages may not make clear sense to you, you wont even know my real name. But it’s better that way, for my sake. I am Chrome, a “hero for hire” who is continuously on the run. As soon as I hear a rumor, a whisper or even a word that comes close to my true identity I flee…
When I first started out, I wasn’t so worried about those details… I don’t try too hard to cover my tracks, which made it easy for people to follow my scent. People were gunning for me. People I had worked with, I worked against or even people out to get a bounty off my head. I learnt very quickly WHY NEVER to be so careless.
I thought I had finally learnt to stay undercover… But the other night when I was in the bar… I heard someone behind me… All they did was mention one little detail but for some reason it really set me off. My hands were shaking and my eyes felt like they had widened to the size of my head. So I got out. I took a small flight away from the city and back to this town… to this house… to my home and parents. All I can do is hope.
And sit here and sob on the kitchen dining table and slowly feel the sun rise and peer into the windows as it tingles my skin and listen to the scratching of pen to paper. 
Dear diary… I’m giving up. I’m stopping. I need to start a normal life. No more being “super” no more using my power. I’m stopping I’m quitting…
GOD DAMN. Why am I such a baby??? WHY would god give this power to such a WUSS. A REAL “hero” would never go running back to their Mummy and Daddy. GAH. How do I even cope with this job?? HOW?!
Dear dairy your just a stupid book that I suddenly feel the need to write in. And I have no clue why I write “dear diary” you’re not real, you don’t care. You’re just a 3 dollar note book a picked up from a store on the way here!!!

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I keep this dairy maybe hoping that someone will find it and read it. I hope they know all my secrets. I hope they don't stop or drop that book until they know of ever story, dream, threat and nightmare... So then someone would know what I'm going through without me having to actually talk to someone...

For now, I will keep it safe. For now I hope I will be safe...

Sincerely,

Fae.

 

Quote:
“With that skipping rope, the trampoline
The crafty smoke that made us choke
But we didn't give up hope
It's just the simple ways, of getting paid
The carelessness of running away
I wish I stayed...”

Ellie Goulding, Wish I Stayed

2010

Author's Note

Written end of last year and needs improving!!! HELP!

Reviews

[3rd Chance]

Hm. Lots of bits and pieces here and there that need improving. I'd really prefer to just print the whole thing out and go through it slowly, marking and scratching out here and there, instead of repeatedly scrolling back up to reference something. The story is told with a childish, 'girl-next-door' sort of airy-fairy feel, and contains too many strange emphasizing markings along each paragraph. Might want to alter the writing to free up the clutter too.

[THE Super Hero]

I know what you mean, I was going through a block. I tried to get a friend to beta it for me but she never finished.
Thank you for mention that, but what in particular do you think I should fix? Any specific lines or paragraphs? Is the idea of it still good..?

[3rd Chance]

I find the story's concept rather average, though certain points could be modified to make it slightly more interesting. Character could be made to stand out more? Situational descriptions could be added on? That sort of thing. I could give it a full read-through when I have time.