Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at getting back to writing in a
few. months. Yuck. I'm very out of practice, and of all things I decide
to write about, it's something that I don't know a whole lot about anyway.
Sure, I loved watching Spider-Man on FOX when I was growing up, but my love
for the creepy-crawly is only recently renewed, thanks to a certain
sweetheart who's encouraging the fandom relentlessly.
Sometime during the production of this small bit, I received news that my own aunt has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I heard today that the prognosis is quite grim. But despite my limited knowledge, rusty writing skills and now, emotional involvement, I hope that this piece is at least acceptable as a first offering into the world of comics. =)
This is dedicated to one by the pen name of J. Hill, whom, by the way, is an incredible writer and should really think about writing again. :: wink wink, nudge nudge::
Immortal
I can't remember the last time that I felt afraid. Sure, I've been concerned plenty of times, and worried on more occasions than I can count, but suddenly, those concerns and worries seem so small and insignificant, even petty as I cower in the shadow of this inescapable monster.
I lived most of my life in this tiny little home. It wasn't much of anything really. My aunt and uncle weren't very wealthy to begin with, and taking me on when my parents died proved to be even more of a financial burden. There were times when I felt guilty, and even expressed my guilt to my uncle, but he always reassured me that I was worth it.
And he, of course, was right. Our family was small, and perhaps a bit broken, but love filled the void where otherwise would sit nice things like expensive furniture or fancy artwork. We lived simply and we lived happily, and in my sheltered mind I honestly believed that it would never change.
But fate has a way of shaking what we believe to be unchangeable. The tragedy of Uncle Ben's death did more than just shake our lives. It broke us, and as much as Aunt May and I worked to try and get by, we were still each haunted by our own secret demons.
I blamed myself for the death of my uncle, and even to this day I believe that the blame is rightfully placed. It wasn't until years later that I learned where Aunt May placed her own blame. It broke my heart to see her hold herself responsible. But for what? Letting him go out when she felt he should have stayed home. She could not have known, and I was the one who let the murderer escape me. I was the one who practically paved the way for him to get to my uncle, and to this day, I have never forgiven myself. I don't expect that I ever will.
But through the tragedy, Aunt May and I pulled closer together. She raised me as a mother would, but she was so much more than that to me. I knew that as long as I had her, we would be just fine.
A couple years ago, something changed about my aunt. She seemed a bit. secretive, if that's even the right word for it. I can't quite explain it but to say that there were some days when she simply didn't tell me what she did anymore. I remember a time when she spared no details about her small adventures such as an interesting trip to the market, or afternoon tea with a friend, even something as insignificant as the dry cleaning. But there came days, even weeks where she wouldn't tell me where she had gone that afternoon. Perhaps I should have asked, but I thought she had her reasons. Perhaps she was tired of the same old stories over and over again.
I should have asked.
But soon enough, I figured out what was really going on. She didn't really make a big deal of it, or even have me sit down to have a talk. She just told me out of the blue one day.
"Peter, I have cancer."
It was so sudden, so blunt. She didn't take the time to build up to the horrific news, or even tell me to brace myself for something big. I was clearing off the kitchen table while she was filling up the sink and she just shouted it over her shoulder, not even looking up from her task.
It took me a bit to realize she was being serious, and for a good long moment I could do nothing but stand there, perfectly still as if I could let those words fly past me like they had never been spoken at all.
I suppose I still haven't really accepted it.
Only now, I have no choice. This home that was once a safe and warm place for me is the one place that truly terrifies me. Even I, a man of unspeakable strength, and courage to match find it difficult just to steady my hand long enough to slide the key inside the doorknob. But the terror that leaves such a man trembling is not what is inside the house, but what is not. It's the emptiness. The simple knowledge that what was once good and wonderful in this place is no longer here. Aunt May has been taken to a better place, and I cannot follow.
The sound of the door creaking open sent a chill down my spine, but despite my fear I pressed forward. A couple steps and I was inside the house that was pleasantly familiar and painfully not. Though it was midday, the entire front hall looked as dark as dusk. Perhaps it was the sadness that veiled my eyes, or more likely the absence of Aunt May and her smile that I was now convinced really did light up a room.
Everything was still as neat and tidy as it had always been. The furniture was arranged in the very same fashion that it had been on the day that I moved in, and the floors were perfectly spotless, save for a few stains that could be blamed on yours truly.
Yes, everything was just as it should be, to Aunt May at least. She wouldn't even run to the convenience store without cleaning up first. She would be pleased to know that everything was still in its place.
But despite the orderly state of the little home, everything seemed horribly wrong without Aunt May actually being there. It was at that moment of ultimate realization that I, the great Spider-Man, broke down and succumbed to the only villain that I could not protect my loved ones from.
I worked so hard to protect her from every earthly danger imaginable, but the one thing that truly threatened her life was the one thing that I was powerless to stop. The demon this time was not a person bent on vengeance or domination, it was a silent killer, with no purpose but to destroy innocent life. Never have I seen a foe so malicious, so cruel, and never have I felt like such a failure.
I sat there for quite some time. Just how long, I couldn't tell you, but long enough for sure. I reflected on life and the lack thereof, and burned inside with jealousy at the fact that my Aunt and Uncle were both now gone, and I was left here alone, completely, and utterly, alone. It hardly seemed fair.
But then again, nothing in life is ever fair. My thoughts fled to Aunt May and how she had lived those last few years alone, without her companion who'd been taken away from her so suddenly. I soon realized how selfish I was being, wishing for Aunt May to be back here with me while most of her loved ones were already gone. She was lonely, and my secret escapades were no help to her, either.
I finally came to the conclusion that what happened today was somehow a good thing. Sure, my life would be much more difficult without her, but she will finally get the peace that she deserves. I can be happy for her, but I still refuse to be happy for me. Aunt May will rest in peace and happiness, and I will live in pain and loneliness.
The sound of sirens outside grabbed my attention and brought me out of my quiet reflection. The faint tingling of my spider-sense warned me that something was happening nearby, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. I just sat there, intent on allowing myself to be mortal, if only just for a few fleeting moments.
It was Uncle Ben's voice that pulled at me to stand up. Of all the things I wanted to do at that moment, putting on my mask was less inviting than chewing off my own foot. His words that haunted me though, and I knew they would haunt me for the rest of my life. They rang out, loud and clear once more: With great power comes great responsibility.
So with heavy hands and an even heavier heart, I stood and pulled the uniform of my curse over my head. I was raised always to do the right thing, and though one day Spider-Man may be too tired or too weak, today would not be that day.
Sometime during the production of this small bit, I received news that my own aunt has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I heard today that the prognosis is quite grim. But despite my limited knowledge, rusty writing skills and now, emotional involvement, I hope that this piece is at least acceptable as a first offering into the world of comics. =)
This is dedicated to one by the pen name of J. Hill, whom, by the way, is an incredible writer and should really think about writing again. :: wink wink, nudge nudge::
Immortal
I can't remember the last time that I felt afraid. Sure, I've been concerned plenty of times, and worried on more occasions than I can count, but suddenly, those concerns and worries seem so small and insignificant, even petty as I cower in the shadow of this inescapable monster.
I lived most of my life in this tiny little home. It wasn't much of anything really. My aunt and uncle weren't very wealthy to begin with, and taking me on when my parents died proved to be even more of a financial burden. There were times when I felt guilty, and even expressed my guilt to my uncle, but he always reassured me that I was worth it.
And he, of course, was right. Our family was small, and perhaps a bit broken, but love filled the void where otherwise would sit nice things like expensive furniture or fancy artwork. We lived simply and we lived happily, and in my sheltered mind I honestly believed that it would never change.
But fate has a way of shaking what we believe to be unchangeable. The tragedy of Uncle Ben's death did more than just shake our lives. It broke us, and as much as Aunt May and I worked to try and get by, we were still each haunted by our own secret demons.
I blamed myself for the death of my uncle, and even to this day I believe that the blame is rightfully placed. It wasn't until years later that I learned where Aunt May placed her own blame. It broke my heart to see her hold herself responsible. But for what? Letting him go out when she felt he should have stayed home. She could not have known, and I was the one who let the murderer escape me. I was the one who practically paved the way for him to get to my uncle, and to this day, I have never forgiven myself. I don't expect that I ever will.
But through the tragedy, Aunt May and I pulled closer together. She raised me as a mother would, but she was so much more than that to me. I knew that as long as I had her, we would be just fine.
A couple years ago, something changed about my aunt. She seemed a bit. secretive, if that's even the right word for it. I can't quite explain it but to say that there were some days when she simply didn't tell me what she did anymore. I remember a time when she spared no details about her small adventures such as an interesting trip to the market, or afternoon tea with a friend, even something as insignificant as the dry cleaning. But there came days, even weeks where she wouldn't tell me where she had gone that afternoon. Perhaps I should have asked, but I thought she had her reasons. Perhaps she was tired of the same old stories over and over again.
I should have asked.
But soon enough, I figured out what was really going on. She didn't really make a big deal of it, or even have me sit down to have a talk. She just told me out of the blue one day.
"Peter, I have cancer."
It was so sudden, so blunt. She didn't take the time to build up to the horrific news, or even tell me to brace myself for something big. I was clearing off the kitchen table while she was filling up the sink and she just shouted it over her shoulder, not even looking up from her task.
It took me a bit to realize she was being serious, and for a good long moment I could do nothing but stand there, perfectly still as if I could let those words fly past me like they had never been spoken at all.
I suppose I still haven't really accepted it.
Only now, I have no choice. This home that was once a safe and warm place for me is the one place that truly terrifies me. Even I, a man of unspeakable strength, and courage to match find it difficult just to steady my hand long enough to slide the key inside the doorknob. But the terror that leaves such a man trembling is not what is inside the house, but what is not. It's the emptiness. The simple knowledge that what was once good and wonderful in this place is no longer here. Aunt May has been taken to a better place, and I cannot follow.
The sound of the door creaking open sent a chill down my spine, but despite my fear I pressed forward. A couple steps and I was inside the house that was pleasantly familiar and painfully not. Though it was midday, the entire front hall looked as dark as dusk. Perhaps it was the sadness that veiled my eyes, or more likely the absence of Aunt May and her smile that I was now convinced really did light up a room.
Everything was still as neat and tidy as it had always been. The furniture was arranged in the very same fashion that it had been on the day that I moved in, and the floors were perfectly spotless, save for a few stains that could be blamed on yours truly.
Yes, everything was just as it should be, to Aunt May at least. She wouldn't even run to the convenience store without cleaning up first. She would be pleased to know that everything was still in its place.
But despite the orderly state of the little home, everything seemed horribly wrong without Aunt May actually being there. It was at that moment of ultimate realization that I, the great Spider-Man, broke down and succumbed to the only villain that I could not protect my loved ones from.
I worked so hard to protect her from every earthly danger imaginable, but the one thing that truly threatened her life was the one thing that I was powerless to stop. The demon this time was not a person bent on vengeance or domination, it was a silent killer, with no purpose but to destroy innocent life. Never have I seen a foe so malicious, so cruel, and never have I felt like such a failure.
I sat there for quite some time. Just how long, I couldn't tell you, but long enough for sure. I reflected on life and the lack thereof, and burned inside with jealousy at the fact that my Aunt and Uncle were both now gone, and I was left here alone, completely, and utterly, alone. It hardly seemed fair.
But then again, nothing in life is ever fair. My thoughts fled to Aunt May and how she had lived those last few years alone, without her companion who'd been taken away from her so suddenly. I soon realized how selfish I was being, wishing for Aunt May to be back here with me while most of her loved ones were already gone. She was lonely, and my secret escapades were no help to her, either.
I finally came to the conclusion that what happened today was somehow a good thing. Sure, my life would be much more difficult without her, but she will finally get the peace that she deserves. I can be happy for her, but I still refuse to be happy for me. Aunt May will rest in peace and happiness, and I will live in pain and loneliness.
The sound of sirens outside grabbed my attention and brought me out of my quiet reflection. The faint tingling of my spider-sense warned me that something was happening nearby, but I couldn't bring myself to respond. I just sat there, intent on allowing myself to be mortal, if only just for a few fleeting moments.
It was Uncle Ben's voice that pulled at me to stand up. Of all the things I wanted to do at that moment, putting on my mask was less inviting than chewing off my own foot. His words that haunted me though, and I knew they would haunt me for the rest of my life. They rang out, loud and clear once more: With great power comes great responsibility.
So with heavy hands and an even heavier heart, I stood and pulled the uniform of my curse over my head. I was raised always to do the right thing, and though one day Spider-Man may be too tired or too weak, today would not be that day.