SCHOOL BUS

Some Time Later


Back to the ordinary.

It's difficult to comprehend how the little things - getting a sandwich, coffee, going to school - taking a bus - it's blissful, even, by comparison. Mundane by the absence of everything else I know to be out there - like the Avengers and their likely wars of cataclysmic proportion.

A spider crawling up the wall seems insignificant when you place it on a scale meant for giants.

But that doesn't mean I can't do what I can, in the capacity that I have. And maybe something will call me to something bigger. Where - I don't know. I couldn't begin to guess. I'm young, and I get it. But I'll be here when it, whatever it may be, calls me.

Light streams through the bus window; I'm too distracted to notice whether it's sunlight or a portal opening to another dimension. It could be anything. But the point being that light can't exist without darkness; but maybe I can help hold it back. In a small way.

It's there on the bus - I feel a pull.

My senses are on edge. It's like hearing the strain of a song that you know the lyrics to but can't put a finger on it. That extra sensory perception that I've slowly developed over time - more than just quick reflexes. It's a whisper, that Spider-sense, raising the hairs on my arm as if there's a sudden chill. I look down at my arm in surprise.

What is that?

There's the call - a tug to sharply look over my right shoulder through the bus window to identify the sudden darkness in my peripheral vision. Something unchecked, and cosmically out of place in the New York skyline.

I turn my face towards the light. I'll always turn to the light.


THE END


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