Short Stories!

Dodgers

It was late, past 10:00pm. I shouldn't be out, but I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts floated in my mind, and it kept me up. I wasn't even tired.

I was fascinated with the human world, and I longed to be normal. But I wasn't. I was born with supernatural powers that kept me from blending in. But I wasn't alone.

I was in a group known as the Blenders, mainly because we tried to be like the rest of society. We worked harder than any normal human would just to hide our identity. We all were supernatural in different ways. Me: the ability to climb walls.

I was by an old elementary school. The one I had gone to as a child briefly before accidentally revealing my powers and having to switch schools. It was tough as a child, when I had no idea why others couldn't do what I did. Now I understand.

It was incredibly quiet, and I should have realized something was wrong. All too late, the Dodgers had me surrounded, forcing me to jump the fence and break into the school for my life. The Dodgers, like the Blenders but completely angry chaos, chose to avoid society. They pursued me, and I immediately knew this wasn't all of them and I was very lucky. But that doesn't mean that I had any idea what I was facing. Running through the halls, I raced anywhere that looked safe. I had already sent out a distress call; my help would be here in one minute. Until then, survive. And run. Really fast.

I sped towards the gym, fireballs and acid puddles barely avoided. From there, I climbed the walls and hung from the rafters and monkey-barred to the upstairs classrooms and climbed down the outside wall using a window. The rescue crew had told me to meet in the auditorium, which was not connected to the rest of the school, though it was close enough.

It had taken the Dodgers a few precious seconds to bust their way through the doors. I was halfway there when they made it outside. My legs ached. They continued to run after me, and I managed to lock the door after slipping in. Not that that did much good. They busted it open with ease, as I made it on stage. 20 seconds until help came.

The obvious leader stepped forward, and I braced myself for a fight. I recognized his face all too well. We engaged, the rest of his pack enjoying the entertainment of seeing their leader win another victory. I avoided his strikes, and tried to just injure him. He was quick and had a sharp eye. He guessed my moves before I made them. After all, he learned from the best.

I hesitated. Big mistake. He easily disarmed me and my sword clattered off stage somewhere. The point of his sword pressed just enough in the skin under my chin to make me as still as a statue. I held my breath.

Zzzzzzapppp! An arch of electricity shot out from behind me, nailing my opponent square in the chest. The room smelled of electric shock. Holes smoked in his shirt and his body, filled with voltage, lay lifeless on the cold hard floor.

I sat up and turned around. My unhappy father frowned at me, the ugly scowl and powerful presence scaring off the other Dodgers. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the body. I looked back at my opponent. "Don't you even care?" I whispered to my father. But when I turned around, he was already gone. I cradled the body in my arms, wishing I had never been out late.

I felt my heart breaking, and it hurt far worse than any physical pain. Physical pain is temporary, but emotional pain can last a life time.

As saltwater slid silently down my face, through tear-blurred eyes, I looked down at the face of my dying baby brother.