I used to wonder what the world would be like later in life. Even though I loved my friends and the long games we played in the park or our houses, messing up our rooms in inventive ways until someone yelled at us, a part of me was always looking at the invisible place beyond the present.
“-And I hate her! She acted all nice to get him to think she was nicer than me and I know she’s sneering at me whenever she does her little professional smile at me! I want to tell her to-”
How did she get so boring and petty? I’m still friends with her because she’s the only one who hasn’t moved away, and I keep hoping that somewhere inside her is the creative, happy person who used to comfort us when we needed it, come up with inventive games, and sometimes take the blame when the adults were particularly angry.
Her aura is dull now, filled with bitterness. I look out over the park we used to play in as children. Then, we wouldn’t be sitting on this bench, we’d be crawling under it, traversing the playground, digging under the trees, climbing. None of that seems like a possibility now. She’d say, ‘People would think we’re weird,’ and look at me like I was weird for suggesting it.
The trees are bare and the air is cold, but even on a snowless winter day there would have been so much more to do.
I miss everyone. I wish I could go back.
Next: Burnt
My gloves crumble around my fingers, burnt to ash. I gasp for air, exited and scared. I can’t tell my husband about this, he’d only tell me I couldn’t do it. My youngest would let it slip, and my oldest might want to report it to the authorities.
I carefull clean the ashes off my hands as much as I can, then glance back at the door and let another burst of flame light up the sky above the grey concrete roof I’m standing on.
The clouds themselves seem to drink in the light. I’ve never felt so thrilled.
The door creaks and I turn around, heart racing as I try to figure out the most natural way to hold my shoulders and hope David doesn’t have better night vision than me.
“Mom? Did you see that?” my oldest asks, concerned.
“Oh- yeah- I’m not sure where it came from,” I stutter.
“Do you think there’s someone with superpowers around here? We’d better go in, it’s not safe.”
He reaches for my hand,
“Better not, they’re dirty,” I say, and follow him in.
I let him open our apartment door for me and immediately head to the sink, washing the evidence off my hands.
“It’s so stupid that we live in a world with so many threats and now there’s suddenly criminals with supernatural powers. You should take someone with you when you go outside at night, mom. Even on the roof, we don’t know who could get up there.”
“I’ll stay safe,” I reassure him.
He worries too much. He shouldn’t feel responsible for everyone else, he’s got to live life and be a kid too.
Effie walks in, head buried in the big honey brown teddy bear she carries around when she’s at home.
“I’m hungry,” she complains.
“We’re going to start making dinner, but we’re waiting for dad. You can have a snack,” I say, opening the snack cupboard and stepping aside with an inviting wave.
“There’s mouse poop in here,” she states flatly.
“Yeah you shouldn’t eat anything in there, it’s not properly sealed,” David says, peering over her shoulder.
I take a look as well- I’ve seen the mouse poop, but everything is closed and sealed when we put it away.
“It’s fine, see, everything is closed,” I point out.
“It’s not fine, mice can chew through things! They could have gotten into the food at any time and they carry a lot of dangerous-” David’s voice rises in stress as he speaks.
I put a hand on his shoulder.
“The food is fine. Look at these cookies, the mice haven’t gotten into them,” I say, holding a box of cookies out to the skeptical teen, though her arms are filled with teddy bear.
“You don’t know that,” David insists.
Effie stares at the cookies flatly.
“I’ll wait for dinner,” she says miserabley, shuffling off to her room.
“Now look what you’ve done, she won’t eat!” I reprimand David.
“I’m telling you we need to get plastic bins for the snack cupboard!” he says.
I don’t think that’s necessary, but to placate him I say,
“I’ll take it under consideration.”
He glares at me, and I stare back until he huffs and leaves the room.
He’s going to get dad to buy the plastic bins.
Next: Onion