Chapter 3: A Dream Of Flying
Humans have always had a strange addiction to telling stories. Poets, playwrights, and authors. They've existed for just as long as humanity. Storytelling is a job that will likely never vanish off the face of the Earth.
There is one piece of storytelling that addicts more than others, however.
Heroes.
They could be found everywhere. Tales of knights saving their kingdom, rebels fighting against tyrannical warlords, or even just simple cowboys fighting for what's right.
When it comes to heroes, people can't seem to get enough of them. So much so that they needed more. The heroes themselves needed to be more.
They needed to be Super...
"She was so cool, Dad! Like, I've seen her on shows. I mean, I have her action figure, but this was different, like seeing her in person was-"
"Hope, you need air." Alexander chuckled and reached up to pinch her cheek.
She slowed down, her face red as she nodded, and took several deep gulps of air. It was a few hours after the bank incident. Due to everything that had happened, her mother never got to speak to anyone about that loan. That was okay, though. Or at least that's what Jane kept saying, but she could spot the worry behind her mother's eyes.
She silently pushed her glasses further up her face and took in the sight of her dad. The hospital room was pretty bland; he used to get a ton of 'get well' stuff, but when weeks turned to months and those turned to years, people stopped asking for him to get better.
He was once a big man, and she remembered that he would carry her on his shoulders. He was frail now, though. His beard was gone, as was most of his hair, and his eyes always looked tired, and there were so many wires—too many—all connected to him, weighing him down.