Spider-Man origin story

PART 1

''That person who helps others simply because it should or must be done, and because it is the right thing to do, is indeed without a doubt, a real superhero''

- Stan Lee

PROLOGUE

Spiders. Are you afraid of spiders? Those little insect-eating creatures that crawl on the walls of your house? Well, maybe it's strange, but one day a young Peter Parker joined their tribe. He was a 16-year-old introverted loser when it happened. Lost in the science fiction universe and mythology. The one who sat on the sidelines at school. Lived only with his uncle and aunt. He had little interest in life here and now. He almost never reflected on life. Because he simply didn't want to worry unnecessarily. He didn't know himself, and this subconsciously made him unfulfilled and unhappy. His everyday life was cyclically boring. His appearance didn't stand out among the crowd of people. He was quite tall and very slim. He had a hunchback, an oval face and side-swept brown hair. He didn't seem like he was that one in a million person. But remember, my dear reader, appearances are deceptive.1The glow of the rising sun illuminated one of Manhattan's streets on another spring day. An exceptionally quiet street full of old-fashioned houses. One of them belonged to a couple in their fifties, Ben and May Parker. Nice people of average height and graying hair. Ben Parker was an exceptionally calm, sensible gentleman. May Parker was a caring and caring, but very strong woman inside. Their small house looked very stereotypical. There were paintings by old painters hanging on the walls with dark shades of colors, there was wooden furniture everywhere, etc. They never had any born children, so they lived alone for many years. Until one mysterious day late in the evening. Ben's brother, Richard Parker, and his wife had to go away "for a few days". They left their 4-year-old son, Peter, in their hands, then left and never came back. In this way, the childless couple finally became someone's legal guardians. In the beginning, little Peter often cried himself to sleep. He had parents who loved him very much, but over time he began to see new people in Uncle Ben and Aunt May and raised him as if they were them Ben was almost always gentle. Both of these qualities benefited their nephew. For example, he could get a new poster from his aunt, and he could sit on the couch with his uncle whenever he wanted. Life on such terms would not bring much reason to complain, but fun, cartoons and no signs of real life were a thing of the past. That morning, like any other, Peter lay sprawled on his bed in his room, his face covered with Ray Bradbury's ''The Martian Chronicles''. This time he dreamed that he could fly. He floated above the skyscrapers and the people below called him a hero. He didn't know why, but he didn't care. It was a very pleasant and strangely realistic dream. Peter felt a cool breeze on his body. He was content with a bird's eye view of the city until he heard a knock. He was startled from his dreams by Uncle Ben's voice from behind the door.

- Peter, you sleep?

- Huh? Ah, no.

- So run downstairs if you want to eat warm breakfast before school.

- Alright.

Peter barely managed to get up on what was supposed to be another normal day. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand and put them on. He had a big visual impairment caused by reading books frequently at night. He looked at the title of the one that fell off his face when he woke up. Then he thought that getting up in the morning was always difficult, like the conquests of Mars described in Ray Bradbury's short story collection. Then he got out of bed. He left the duvet unmade behind him because that was his custom. Like not cleaning your room at all. Clothes had been strewn about on the floor for about two months. Walking towards the toilet, he reached for one of them. He brushed his teeth, got dressed and saw himself in the mirror. He quickly noticed that a discasting pimple had appeared on his cheek. Nothing pissed him off more than those pesky pimples. He squeezed out the white goo and wiped away a small drop of blood with his finger. Returning to the room, he took his school backpack from the desk and the book he had fallen asleep reading and went downstairs. There, as he did every morning, he met Uncle Ben and Aunt May at the table.