Not Again – Writing Prompt Short Story

[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; 
there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this.

- Writing Prompt Courtesy of Nulono



Not Again

Now I’m going to have to ask you to listen very carefully to my words, so that at least someone will finally understand the sequence of events that I now find myself in. This isn’t the first time that I found myself in this position and I can only predict that it won’t be the last time. First there was the Evil Mermen who ascended from the deep abysses of the oceans to take me as one of their own. Then there was the Crazy Cat lady who saw my birthmark and was convinced that I was her betrothed, back from the dead, and ready to go on a massive bloodletting in the name of the Cat God Bastet. And now I find myself being chased by an ancient Warlord named Bastion, sent to destroy the real heroes of our world.

Even before all this craziness, my parents were convinced that my birthmark was some sort of magical prophecy. They told me I was destined for great things; far better things than a normal person. I hated to tell them but I was as normal as any sixteen year old boy could possibly be. I spent hours trying to convince them, all for nothing, because they got in their mind that in order for me to achieve my greatness, that they would have to die. I’m sad to say that part came true and they found themselves mysteriously murdered one evening while I was attending my school play. I have yet to discover their killers and I’m beyond nervous on the calamity that will ensue upon meeting them.

Their deaths and my birthmark caused a roar in the superhero world, as dozens of them descended upon my home during my parents wake to console me. They too were convinced that I was destined to be one of them. And yet, none of them could see that I had no super power. No super strength to be seen; I was tall, lanky and skinny armed. I couldn’t fly nor hear people’s thoughts. I didn’t even know how to swim properly. But somehow they believed I was the one to lead them in their fight against evil.

I’ll spare you the details on the next few weeks, which consisted of a lot of my teenage angst and their stubbornness in not listening to my pleas. After those few weeks,  I heard a commotion  outside my foster parents home and pulled the window blinds to the side to peer out.  Out there in the street was Bastion and a trio of super heroes doing battle. All of them were equally hurt and the battle was winding down to the finish. Bastion delivered final blows to two of them and they fell over dead. The lone superhero ran full speed at Bastion and delivered, from what I could tell with my normal eyes, a single punch that caused Bastion to fly backwards and through the window of my living room.  He then succumbed  to his wounds and fell over dead. The force of the blow caused me to fly back and slam against the inner living room wall. I heard an audible crack from within my arm and the shards of window glass scraped the sides of my face. A few minutes later I awoke and stepped through the remains of the window and out onto the yard where I was greeted by the remaining set of superheroes who were enroute to the battle. They took one look at the scene and saw that I was the only one left alive and with battle injuries and concluded I was the one who finally took down Bastion. They kneeled before me and thanked me.

Not again, I thought.

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