A cool fall breeze rustled through the few trees around the park. It was a peaceful afternoon. Even the playground had fallen silent. Silent...It wasn't supposed to be silent.
"Jessica? Jessica! Jessica, where are you?!" A woman called frantically. She ran about the playground, looking for her daughter.
A man sitting at the bus stop by the corner heard her and looked up from his phone. He watched her for a moment and mentally traced her path back through the playground to the bench where her purse and phone lay abandoned. The bench was next to the swing set, and the woman kept circling back around to that part of the playground like Jessica might magically reappear there.
He could practically see it. The woman talking on her phone, distracted. The daughter swinging happily until something caught her eye, a butterfly maybe. She followed the pretty, trying to catch it, until...
"Ma'am," He called. He cleared his throat, wishing he didn't sound perpetually hoarse.
The desperate woman stopped and looked at him.
He pointed to a small clump of trees and bushes a short distance away. "Try behind those plants."
The woman looked around the playground one last time before deciding to humor him.
The man grinned as he stumbled to his feet. His bus was here. The vehicle's doors opened as it screeched to a halt.
"Hey, Ethan," The driver greeted him with a smile. "How was work today?"
"Interesting as ever, Joe. Someone didn't have a surge protector on their pc and was insisting we recover their files," Ethan summarized as he climbed the stairs with his halting gait.
The driver whistled. "Some people don't deserve their tech."
"You're telling me." Ethan lowered himself into one of the front seats and glanced out the window to see the woman returning to her bench with a little redhead on her hip. Ethan allowed himself a smile as the bus pulled away.
Some days he almost felt like his old self. Like a hero.
He rubbed at the joint between his stump and prosthetic through his pants leg. He couldn't move as fast, and he couldn't see like he used to. But sometimes it almost felt like he could. If only his lungs hadn't been ruined. If only he hadn't lost his leg. If only he hadn't been burned so badly. If only. If only.
He frowned and looked away from the reunited family as the bus turned a corner. Sometimes a hero didn't win. Sometimes there was no coming back.
YOU ARE READING
Writetober 2019
FantasyI saw an Inktober post with several words that jumped out at me. So, I've turned it into a set of writing prompts. Most, if not all, of these will be from Being a Hero's universe. I hope y'all enjoy.
