HOW TO FLY ⁀ ᶜʰᶦᶜᵏˡᶦᵗ

01 ─ the world's a mighty big place

❝ there is a right and a wrong in the universe and the distinction is not hard to make. ❞

chapter one | the world's a might big place

◇ ◇ ◇

IT WAS AS THOUGH SOMETHING WITHIN MY MOM SWITCHED. when this occurred, she took absolutely everything in her wake along with her. everything included myself, our home, and blatantly, the life i'd grown to know over the past eighteen years.

before my father decided to re-familiarize himself with the game of life— choosing an alternate family path— i'd desperately clung to the idea that he was my very own superhero. he'd catch me when i fell, bandage my bloody knees, and lift me above his head as if i were flying.

until one day, he suited up, he flew away, and he saved everybody.

except for us.

i was six when he departed from the suburbs  of chicago. i naively, desperately, turned my ears towards to the comforting lies spiraling out of my mother's lips when she'd pat my back and say,

"he's out there, lei- saving the world and you know the world's a mighty big place... it might be a while before he comes home."

as time aged the both of us, she stopped fumbling for excuses, and i stopped expecting her too. those words were nothing of empty promises filled with the remnants of long lost hope, drifting in wafts of a too far gone childhood. i didn't see it then, but those tall tales provided an almost toxic amount of aid moreso to my mother than to myself. i was her healthy reason, for an unhealthy reluctance to let go, that allowed her to hide from her own state of vulnerability. it worked, for a while.

now we were unpacking a disarray of beige boxes all the while the anger of nurtured city-goers were filing into our ears and what seemed to be the most thin walled apartment residing on the complex.

my mother was out somewhere, she got a call and darted out the door with leftover takeout on the empty counter. you could hear the quiet voices from the television she left on regarding more questions on thee 'entity-x,' i hadn't bothered much to strain for more.

following, more prominently, the boisterous cat-calls, indigenous to taxis and directed towards other taxis, another sound began rolling in. the few leaves on the vines shamelessly running alongside our brick building curled in the soft sign of an oncoming rain.

i tucked a loose lock of sandy brown hair behind my ear as my feet padded across the hard floor. thunder followed— and what seemed to be a bright day fell victim to the ominous clouds no longer just 'in the distance.' in a minute of time, streaks of hot white flashed whilst echoing through the mostly hollowed apartment; damn these thin walls.

❛ heaven, almighty. God's having a rave up there,❜ i mumbled softly, moving towards the small balcony where rain pellets were beginning to snake past the cracked open door.

THUD.

i jumped, eyes wide.

THUD. ❜ CRASH. ❜ BANG. ❜

❛❛ HOLY SH— ❜❜ the silhouetted voice was distorted from the sounds of nature. more movement came from the darkness, then another flash struck, the door creaked.

there was minimal light filtering through the apartment now, for i was relying on the natural rays from the sun. clearly, that was a mistake.

my heart was pounding relentlessly, it was stirring from the base of my skull and curling up and around my eardrums. my fingers were fumbling through the nearest box lain at my bare feet. there was no way in heaven or hell my measly arms could take out what looked to be a man- without something. anything.

my hands grasped hold of a wooden object, just as the figure stepped through the door- rain following.

WHACK.

my eyes widened for the second time tonight as the object fell out of my hands merely moments after it was gotten hold of. typical.

❛❛ JESUS CHRIST! ❜❜ followed, the door slammed, and the figure turned around.

peeking through half closed eyes, i felt my cheeks become hotter than the sun as my jaw dropped into the pits of tartarus.

the television connection was fighting against the wind, the rain, and the thunder. "who is the boy? the man? behind the mask?"... even still, it found its way into my ears as i could only stare at who stood before me, drenching wet in what looked like a cosplay suit you'd find on etsy. i almost wanted to laugh.

i didn't because realization struck quicker than the latest streak of lightning.

i just hit 'entity-x,' the golden boy, superhero of america, standing in my room— with a rolling pin. i have no clue why the dang thing was in one of my boxes to begin with; that was a question for another time, perhaps.

and after the plethora of cuss words that were the result of a newly formed welt on his oddly perfect forehead?

he smiled.