Strange events.
Being related to a member of the Fantastic Four, I've had my share of them. I'm definitely used to it by now. But I remember one strange occurrence that happened when I was young. It may not have been the strangest, but it was the first that I remember.
I was about five years old. My parents had passed away the year before and my twin brother and I were currently living with our grandfather. I remember it happened during the winter season, but I'm not sure of the exact date. Sometime after Christmas. It was the coldest winter New York had had in years. Anyone who was outside in the city was bundled tightly. You could barely see any faces due to the amount of hats and scarves people were wearing.
My grandfather had been low on funds that year, and our heating had taken most of the penalty. I guess my grandfather had been feeling guilty about it, suddenly having two kids to support and not having enough funds within the first year, because he took us out to a variety of heated events that didn't give his wallet too much of a beating. I remember the day ended with a trip to the movies. We went to see the only G rated film they were playing at the time. It involved talking animals of some kind.
After the movie finished, we began heading back home. The streets had become more crowded by then, so out of fear that he might lose one of us in the chaos, he gripped our gloved hands tight and pulled us in close. I held onto my grandfather's coat with my free hand. But as we were walking, I slipped on an ice patch. Startled, I accidentally let go of my grandfather, and the hand he was holding slipped out of the glove. I fell to the ground and it only took those few seconds for me to become lost in the hordes of people.
I didn't know what to do; didn't know where to go. No one would help, or no one noticed. I called out to my Grandfather but heard nothing in return. The crowds were too loud to hear anything other than the incessant chatter. I had to get away. Find some place where I could think. I began heading to the first place that came to mind. The wind continued to get worse as I made my way to central park. I remembered there was a small bridge. It would give me some shelter from the harsh, biting wind. I moved as quickly as I could, and finally had the bridge in my sight. But I was too cold to smile.
I kept moving. Steady; strong. I kept my face down to protect it from the wind. I looked up occasionally to see how much closer I was. Not much. Lower head back down and keep going. How far now? I look up and I see someone under the bridge. Have they been there the whole time? I pause and look closer. They appear to be my age. I lower my head again and keep moving.
Suddenly I'm on the ground; fading in and out of consciousness. For one second I see the person from under the bridge. Then they're gone. The next thing I know, I'm under the bridge and the person is there again, looking at me. It's a boy; my age as I had guessed before. His face comes into focus and I see it's mostly covered by a hat and scarf. But there's a small sliver that reveals his eyes. They were bright green, and yet soft. The small amount of skin that could be seen around his eyes was a dark green colour. This boy wasn't human. But I remember I wasn't scared. How could I be afraid of someone who had brought me to shelter after I fell?
I reached for him. But he backed away quickly. He kept adjusting his hat and scarf, covering more of his face; trying to hide it. I let my hand drop back to my side. I was much too tired, and was growing weaker. He came closer again. His eyes looked so sad and scared, and they continued to grow more worried as the time passed. I start to black out again. I can feel my eyes fluttering. The last thing I see is a dark figure suddenly appearing behind the boy. The boy turns quickly, but doesn't seem to be afraid. Instead he starts talking to the figure frantically. The figure bends down and places a hand on the boy. Then the figure comes towards me, and asks me for my name and address. All I can manage, before I lose consciousness, is, "Kaitlyn … from Carl's … comics."
I don't wake up again until I'm in my own bed, surrounded by as many blankets as we had. I'm confused at first, but then I remember the boy, and the figure. My Grandfather sees that I'm awake and rushes over to my side. He tells me that the figure, apparently the father of the boy, brought me home. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have survived the night.
I owe my life to that boy and his father, and I may never see them again to be able to thank them. But I will never forget that boy's eyes. So if I ever see them again, I'll know it's him, and I'll have finally found my hero.