My Superman

He flew high into the sky, his cape flowing behind him. I remember it being a bronzy color, unique compared to other superheroes, though it was his greatest weakness.  It held him back when the container trapped him, but he didn’t struggle, even though his arms and legs were free. I guess he lacked the power to escape, and yet, I couldn’t help him. When he finally did escape, he slumped to the ground like a ragdoll, and the medic came, only one. It was a woman and when I looked into her eyes, I saw hope, more than enough to revive my Superman. He would wake up with a groan, a growl afterwards and the medic burst into tears. I think she was glad, that my Superman got his powers back. She couldn’t possibly be mad, it’s not possible at all.

My Superman slowly began to stay out more, and he couldn’t attend his “normal job” as often. Perhaps he was busy saving or helping other civilians, such as preventing a car crash or assisting an elderly lady across the street. The nurse seemed to miss him too and she visited me often, more so than he did, but she also had to work. I was left in the care of retired superheroes, where one couldn’t harness his power to fly anymore, so he helped make the parts that allowed others to. The other one still held her powers, the powers of healing and she used them to care for me. Her dry, old hands may have felt rough to others, but her touch made me feel safe, like I could just curl up inside her arms and no evil could even come close to me. The moment she let me go, I was whisked away by an unknown assailant, who wore a bronze cape as well, to my surprise. They locked me in a dark dungeon, with a door that was so high off the ground, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to free myself.

‘Superman,” I screamed. “Superman! Please come help! PLEASE!”

I don’t remember how long I screamed. My voice grew hoarse and I felt my body giving away; even the tears stopped running down my face.

“Superman…,” I croaked. “Why aren’t you here yet?”

Suddenly, I heard screaming, and it grew louder as the source of the voice came closer to the door. I believed that it was Superman, but as the door was thrown open, I realized my prayers had attracted a different person. It was the one who had the powers of healing and she looked radiant, as though she had drawn the last of her powers to come to my rescue.

“My baby,” she cried, as she picked me up. “Nothing will ever happen to you again…”

That was when the screaming started once more, though it was much louder. The one with the healing powers told the nurse of the events that happened and the cries the nurse uttered were those of misery. She constantly screamed at Superman, shielding me from the fight and Superman himself. To my surprise, Superman screamed back and he often turned to the container, which no longer was his enemy, but his escape instead. He grew more violent and soon, he disappeared altogether.

“Where’s Superman Ms. Nurse?”

“He’s gone honey, you don’t have to worry about him again.”

So, I left it at that and now, when I look up into the sky, I no longer imagine Superman flying high over the city, doing the heroic deeds he used to. Now, I see the nurse, my nurse, as the Superwoman in my life.


Dedicated to my mom and grandma, the superheroes in my life


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