Origin Story

Flash Fiction by Catherine Conlin, 16

Some people think it would be cool to be a superhero. It’s not. Not that I’m a superhero or anything. I’m not allowed to be because I’m “selfish”—whatever that’s supposed to mean. I was born into a family of superheroes. A family of superheroes that are basically never there for me. They spend all day saving people and fighting crime. But in the process of “making the world a better place”, they’re just tearing our family apart.

If you ask me, we’re not much of a family. The only thing similar about us is that I look like a copy and paste of my siblings. I only see them once a week—when they come to restock on whatever superhero stuff they need—and we never have anything to talk about. Why? Because they spend all their time as superheroes, the one thing they are forbidden to speak of. Not that they have time to talk to me anyways…

“It can’t be that bad,” is my friend's poor attempt at comforting me. Come on, seriously? You try living alone in a giant, empty mansion, then hosting a few noisy, stuck up superheroes once a week because they’re “family”.

Look, all I want is a normal life. I want a family who is there for me when I need them. I guess I don’t really care if they stay superheroes, as long as I can see them and talk to them about it. Is that too much to ask? I guess so. Unless…

I jumped in my seat, eyes darting around the restaurant.

“Woah, you okay?” Across from me sat Carlos, who tried to hide the look of concern on his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered, glancing around me for my bag. I slung it over my shoulder and stood up. “Need to catch up on school,” I lied. It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t think of anything better. I rushed out of the restaurant, eager to get home.

Nobody would see this coming. I didn’t. In fact, I’m kind of surprised I thought of it. I shook my head in disbelief as I entered my house and made my way to the basement. The basement was where my family kept all their superhero stuff; it was also the place I couldn’t get into without them knowing, no matter how hard I tried. But this time was different. I wasn’t trying to be secretive. I managed to hack into our security system and unlocked all the locks in the basement. I put a box of random things together that I thought would be useful, then took them upstairs to my room, where I started building everything I would need to accomplish my task.

What? You think I’m trying to become a superhero too? Pfft—no! I don’t want to be anything like my family. That’ll only make things worse. If I really want to gain my family’s attention…I need to become the villain.