Up from the ashes

(Writing prompt) A retired superhero is forced to pick up the mantle once again when her children are threatened. 

(Sorry if it has typos :,) 

    My child cries, tears streaming down her flushed freckled cheeks. “MAMA! IT HURTS!” 

    I shush her as I wrap a white bandage around her scraped knee which drips with blood. Her pigtails thrash as she throws her head back and wails again. The sound reminds me of a fire alarm; irksome and jarring. 

    Taking a deep breath, I force a smile on my face that I hope will diminish my child’s panic. “June, sweetie. It’s not a deep cut. Look, I’m done.” 

    Almost immediately her wailing is cut off, and she looks down at her bandaged knee. After a moment, she turns her sky-blue gaze up to me, with wonder in her eyes. 

    An amused and exasperated smile crawls onto my face as I place my hands under her armpits and lift her to her feet. Patting her on the back, I gift her a small peck on the forehead. “All right, why don’t you go play with the kids?” 

    With that, she sprints off towards the playground swarming with children, a huge smile on her face as if her cheeks weren’t tearstained and she hadn’t been wailing seconds before. Shaking my head, I rise to my feet as well. I shift on my two sleeping feet which feel like needles are pricking them, due from kneeling on the grass too long. And indeed, there are grass-like marks all over the front of my legs. 

    A bird soars over my head, chirping cheerfully. It’s a beautiful summer day, with no white fluffs blocking the sun rays, and with brisk breezes to keep the sweat at bay. 

    I watch my two children scream playfully as they chase each other and their friends around the playground. Crossing my arms, I feel my heart swells up with love as June lifts her little brother, Will, onto her shoulders. 

    As I watch their playful banter and games, my mind wanders off as I soak in the warm rays of the sun. It’s hard to imagine that I ever had a life before my two rascals. I wouldn’t hesitate for even a moment to say that they are my everything, my entire world. 

    How did I ever live life without them? I wonder as I lift my face up to the sun, staring directly at it. It doesn’t burn my eyes, and isn’t painful at all. After all, when one has the power of fire, anything involving heat isn’t frightening or painful. 

    My gaze goes distant as deep memories from the past rise to the surface. Me, years younger, long before I even thought about having children, accomplishing dangerous tasks. Stopping robberies and evil schemes. Solving mysteries with close friends and loved ones. Wearing a handmade mask and suit that I thought was definitely intimidating and impressive. 

    I can’t hold back a laugh as I shake my head and pull my gaze away from the fireball in the sky. What a time, what a life. 

    Some called me a superhero. Some called me a threat. Some called me a child in a Halloween costume. 

    I called myself The Blaze. 

    A teenager in black cargo pants, black gloves, a black hoodie, black boots, and of course, a black bandana tied so that it covered my nose and mouth. The ultimate moody teenager outfit, I now think.  

    I look down at my figure now. Shorts, sandals, and a pink t-shirt that reads “I’d rather cuddle my cat and drink wine.” 

    Suppressing a laugh, I run my hand through what my kids call a “mom haircut.” Oh, how times have changed. 

    After all, a superhero must eventually learn that the best way to keep their family safe is to retire. 

    Sighing, I turn to face the playground where my children are now swinging. Will reaches over to poke June, with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

    I would do anything if it meant my children could be kept safe. Anything at all. 

    Deep down, I ignore the fire still flickering inside of me. The fire that craved adventure and risk like oxygen. 

    Suddenly, there’s a buzzing against my thigh, and I stuff my hand into my pocket, until my fingers find a cold smooth surface. Pulling out my phone, I arch an eyebrow at the name that reads across the screen. 

    “William Ignis ~ Love of my Life”

    Will had gone up to the mountains with his buddies for a weekend, while I stayed to take care of our kids. He had informed me that he would have no service up there, but maybe he has come back early. 

    Pressing the green pickup button, I lift the phone up to my ear, a smile on my face. “Hey, honey. I thought you were up in the mountains for the weekend. Did something happen?” 

    There’s silence for a lingering moment. 

    “Oh, yes. Something did happen.” The man that replies is not my husband’s. 

    The smile instantly drops from my face as my stomach turns over. Warning bells begin to ring in my head and I find myself scanning the playground for my children. If there’s danger out here,  I have to find my children and make sure they’re safe from it. 

    “Who is this?” I hiss in a low, trembling voice. 

    The raspy and taunting voice replies after a moment. “If you want your husband to live, you’ll have to do something for me…” 

    My pounding heart begins to race even faster when I can’t find the unique auburn-brown head and pigtails of my children. 

    Over the phone, I hear a voice shout from the background. “HONEY, DON’T LISTEN TO HIM. TAKE THE CHILDREN AND GO, I—“ 

    The blood drains from my face as I hear my husband cry out in pain. And then heat flushes into my cheeks as I curl my fists. 

    “Listen here, you…” I call the man a name, and briefly, I imagine my children gasping in horror at me and going, ‘mom!’ “But if you harm my husband, or my family, I will make your life a living HELL. You have no idea who your’e dealing with.” 

    The man on the other end lets out a spine-chilling cackle. “Oh, but I do. I know exactly who you are, BLAZE.” 

    The man spits out the name of my past alternate identity like it’s rotten. 

    My breathing is labored, not only from terror, but from the fury that’s rising up inside me like a raging fire. I’m still searching for my children, and my eyes jump to two auburn-haired children that are standing a distance from the playground. 

    My shoulders relax a little as I take in a deep, relieved breath. I step forward with urgency, towards them, but the man’s voice on the other side, stops me. 

    “Found them?” He hisses slyly. 

    I pause in confusion for a moment, then horror dawns on me as I see two men step out from the shadows, making a beeline towards my kids. 

    “NO!” I scream in terror, breaking into a desperate run. The sound of my voice causes my kids to whirl around and face me, their eyes wide in alarm. Out of the corner of my eye, I see adults and their children twist to face me, startled. 

    But I don’t stop. My legs are moving the fastest they have ever moved in their entire life, and my eyes are pinned on my children, my entire worlds, the two people in my life who I won’t ever, ever, let feel pain. 

    But the men are closing in on them, and my children have just noticed, their eyes going wide in a terrified realization, and my heart jumps into my throat, as June turns her sky-blue eyes towards me, letting out one word that unleashes the flickering fire inside of me. 

    “MOM!” 

    Without thinking, I throw my hands out, although I’m still far away from them. For a split second nothing happens. But then, a stream of fire lashes out of thin air, from the palms of my hand. The flames lick the air as they claw their way towards one of the men that is reaching their hand out towards Will. 

    But the fire gets to him first. 

    Time speeds up again, and I’m standing in shock as I watch the man collapse onto the ground, thrashing around as the flames grasp onto his clothes, clawing at his skin. 

    For a moment I realize that I’ve dropped my phone. But this detail is quickly brushed aside as the screams break out. 

    Everyone around me is screaming. Kids cling onto their moms as adults fumble for their phones, or simply just run away. Heat rushes into my cheeks as I watch the horror in everyone’s eyes around me.

    But quickly, I snap out of the shame that is trying to cling onto me, but I whirl around to face my children and it quickly returns. 

    Will and June are both staring at me in bewildered horror. The shame that was clinging onto me, quickly fills me up, and I reach my hands out towards them, a desperate look in my eye. I’ve never told them about my power of fire, but I don’t have time to explain. I need to get them out of here. 

    But before I can say anything, the remaining man grabs June’s arm and yanks her back towards him. Will turns around, his eyes wide in horror. 

    The fire inside me rages as I curl my fists, flames sprouting from my hands, licking my knuckles. 

    “Ah-ah-ah!” The man pulls June closer to him, as she struggles in his grip. She’s staring desperately at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. The man’s eyes flash as a grin spreads across his scarred face. “If you throw your fire at me, you’ll hit your kid also.” 

    I grit my teeth as I struggle for a solution. But suddenly Will leaps towards the man, throwing his fists out. The man is shocked, and he drops his gaze down at my son, who lets out a battle cry as his fist collides into the man’s stomach. 

    In that brief moment, my heart swells with pride for my son. I take the distraction as an opportunity and dash towards the man myself, lifting a flaming fist and throwing it at his jaw. He collapses onto the ground, supposedly knocked out cold. 

    The park is empty. My heart is pounding. Sweat trickles down my face and the back of my neck, soaking my pink shirt. The fire inside me is raging as I glare down at the men that have even dared touch my children. 

    The screams of sirens snaps me back to reality and I look up with wide eyes, spotting the red and blue lights that are approaching. I shake my hands vigorously, and the flames blooming from my hands go out instantly.

    “June, Will!” My cry comes out strained and breathless as I reach for my children’s arms. I notice how they freeze under my grip, their entire posture tensing. Hurt rises up within me as I take in the frightened looks drawn all across their faces. Fear towards me. 

    The raging fire inside of me is diminished into a small flickering flame. The sirens are getting closer. 

    Regardless of their objections, I pull them close to me, anyways. “Listen, kids. I know your’e scared. But we have to go. Now. I can’t explain.” 

    After all, what could I explain to a eight and six year old? 

    I stare into my children’s eyes, hoping that they’ll understand. Tears are streaming down both of their cheeks, their hair a mess after the disarray they’ve been through. Will glances at June, watching his older sister with heed. June’s eyes don’t leave mine for a lingering moment. 

    And finally, when the sirens get so close that the cars are almost upon us, June sighs, dropping her gaze. 

    Then she nods. Mimicking his sister, Will does the same. 

    I sigh in relief, just before dropping my hands down to grab both of theirs, and disappearing just before the cops arrived, just like the old times. 

     ~ 

    I’ve left my children at home, in the safe bunker that my husband and I created so long ago. It was when I was pregnant with June, after I retired but before the villains that knew my true identity stopped harassing me and my family. 

    Now that I had a baby quite literally growing inside of me, I realized that the family she was being born into would always have some form of danger following at our heels. 

    So my husband and I decided to build a safe bunker that could protect our children from the perilous threats that haunted our family. 

    But the villains had left us alone right as June had been born and the safe bunker was never touched again. And everyday I thanked God for that. But just today I’ve had to creak open the rusted doors and usher my two children inside, who I had hoped would never have to experience anything like I had. 

    “Listen, you two are to stay in here, no matter what, understand? Don’t open the door for anyone.” I had commanded, running over to each lamp sitting in the room and snapping my fingers at it, sparking a fire in each one. “And I mean anyone.” 

    June and Will were seated on one of the old maroon couches, huddled close, watching me with wide eyes. I had faltered at the sight of them, acknowledging the fact that they were still processing this. Walking over, I placed both their hands in mine, gazing into their eyes gravely. “I need to go take care of some stuff.” 

    June watched me with heed, her two pigtails swinging as she analyzed the room. Will stared solemnly at me, shivering. I glanced down at his arms which had gooseflesh spreading across. Due to the flame burning inside of me, I couldn’t feel the frigid air that swept through the metal bunker, but my children weren’t the same. 

    Inhaling softly and slowly, I took heed to the blood flowing through the hands that clasped my children’s, and willed them to heat up. 

    I struggled for a moment, for I hadn’t done anything like this with my powers, for a very very long time. But eventually, I felt the flush of warmth radiating through my hands and watched as my children felt it too. 

    Will leaned in closer to my hands, supposedly soaking up it’s warmth, and June simply stared. And then she lifted her gaze to mine as she said, “I love you, mama.” 

    My heart had swelled up with overwhelming love and I pulled them both into a hug. 

    And even now, as I stand in a forest, on the mountains, in front of a cabin, my hands tingle with the absence of my children’s hands, and my heart longs for their safety and melts with their love. 

    

    ~ 

    It’s night, now. The moonlight is streaming through the trees, casting erratic shadows down on me and the looming cabin ahead. I clench and unclench my sweaty hands, the fire inside me lashing out, begging for the risk and rush of adrenaline from the danger I’m about to step into. 

    My outfit now is one that resembles my costume from so so long ago. I hadn’t meant to, of course. That would be silly. I was simply gathering dark clothes so that my enemies couldn’t see me in the dark of night. At least, that’s what I tell myself. 

    After letting myself take another moment of breathing and preparing myself, I shake the anxiety out through my hands, then curl them into fists as I storm towards the cabin door. 

   Furiously, I kick down the door with my old, worn out sneakers that I’ve had for so long, and watch as the door breaks off completely, slamming down onto the floor with a deafening THUD. 

   A sharp pain shoots up from my ankle and I hiss in pain as I reach down to rub it. I don’t remember kicking down doors hurting as much as it does now. 

    Brushing it off, I warily scan the inside of the empty, dark cabin. I tracked my husband’s phone down to this cabin, but I don’t see anyone here. But then again, it’s so dark I can’t really see anything. 

    Cautiously, I step inside, readying myself to shoot out any flames at any attackers. And then there’s movement. At the very back of the room. I freeze, and then allow the flames to sprout from my hands, the flames hungrily licking the air. 

    Warm, orange light floods the room and a man is revealed, laying on the floor, tied up, with duct tape masking his mouth. His sky-blue eyes catch mine and I let out a trembling gasp. 

    The flickering light from the flames catch the blood that drips down his face. My heart drops into my sick stomach as I take a step forward towards him. But suddenly his eyes go wide in alarm, as his gaze flickers to the right of me. 

    Instinct from lessons learned long ago take over and I whirl around just in time to block a punch headed right for my face. 

    The flickering flames go berserk at the sudden movements, getting snuffed out, then coming back to life again. The warm light throws sinister shadows all about the room, casting an eery and erroneous mood. 

    Lowering my hands, heart pounding, I stare at the man in front of me. 

    He’s wearing a long cloak that scrapes the top of his boots, and a hood is pulled over his head, with strands of hair hanging down in front of his gray eyes that flash with murder. 

    He looks sickly, and the shrewd shadows that cut into his cheekbones only make him look worse. A chill shivers down my spine as he takes an intimidating step forward, flashing eyes pinned on mine.

    And when he speaks, I recognize it from the man on the phone. “Well, well, Blaze, the one and only.” 

    His lips tremble until he lets out a shrill cackle. And that’s when I know this man has gone mad. Taking a wheezing breath, he speaks, prowling slowly towards me. “A retired hero, up from the ashes.” 

    I inch along the edge of the room, clinging onto the flames in my hands, ready for a fight. The fire inside of me grows every second, hungrily consuming the adrenaline and fight inside of me. 

    “What do you want, you sick maniac?” I spit, edging towards my husband, who lays still, watching the scene attentively. 

    The man cocks his head, and the flickering orange light casts sharp, unsettling shadows on his face. His eye twitches. “I want you…to suffer as I have.”

    Oh, great. I can’t help but think. Another villain that wants revenge. I’ve dealt with enough of these. 

    “Who even are you?” I’m getting closer to my husband, and I glance over to catch his eye. Even though our eyes meet only for a brief second, a message is sent through. His head, ever so slightly, moves in a small nod, in agreement. I shortly feel a sense of relief, before I have to remind myself that this isn’t over yet. 

    I turn my gaze back over to the maniac who’s prowling closer to me, and he says “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you ruined my life.”

    The sarcastic teen inside of me that I’ve kept locked away in my past for so long, takes over; I can’t help but roll my eyes with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all already. I’ve either killed or imprisoned someone you care about, and now years later, you’ve come to get revenge on me.”

    I’m a few feet away from my husband and I have to force myself not to make any sort of glance or movement towards him, unless I want to give away my plan. 

    Mr. Maniac in front of me is glaring daggers, probably because I’ve guessed then brushed off his petty motive.  

    Then, without a word, I blast a spurt of blistering-hot fire straight at his face. 

    This catches him off guard and he stumbles back as he throws his cloak up to deflect the attack. Taking advantage of this distraction, I whirl around to my husband and drop to my knees. 

    I rapidly untie my husband’s restraints, my heart pounding against my chest violently. 

    As I tear the duct tape off of his mouth, he suddenly lunges forward, grabbing my face in his hands and pressing his lips against mine. 

    At first I’ m startled, then my heart swells with affection. He leans back, looking me earnestly in the eye. “Are the kids safe?” 

    I nod wordlessly, choking back tears from relief, and from the longing to leave this place. 

    Suddenly, someone takes hold of the back of my shirt, violently yanking me backwards. I cry out in alarm as my head hits the floor. I hear my husband shout something, but then there’s a sickening wet thunk. 

    My heart leaps with terror and I scramble to my knees. There’s no more fire that can fill the room with warm light, but the moonlight fills in that duty by streaming in through the cracked windows. 

    Although the world spins around me, I see a knife sunk deep into my husband’s stomach. His hair is sticking to his pale forehead from sweat as he grits his teeth in agony. 

    The maniac is standing over him, cloak flapping in a breeze that flows in through one of the broken windows. 

    Furiously and without thinking, I throw my hands up towards him, sending a river of clawing fire at him. Then, to my surprise, he runs right into it. 

    And through the flinging fire, I catch one of his murderous eyes, the skin around it melting from my blazing fire, his gaze set on me. In that split second, my stomach twists in horror as I realize that this man is gone. There’s no sanity left in him. And that means there is nothing stopping him from getting his hands around my neck. 

    He pushes through the fire as if it’s nothing but a breeze and soon, I find him tackling me to the ground with unrelenting hatred. 

    The wind is knocked out of me as my back painfully collides into the ground. The world spins wildly around me. The maniac is sitting on top of me, his knees unbearably digging into my sides. 

    Distantly, I can hear my husband calling my name. But how can he move? A knife is impaled right through his stomach. 

    In a desperate hope, I throw my hands out to my attacker, and flames sprout for just a moment. In that moment, it casts an orange hue on the maniac above me. And my sick stomach churns at the sight of the skin that’s melting right off his bones, his bloodshot eyes, and the bloodthirsty look in his eye. 

    Before a flame can even touch his bubbling skin, he drives his knees onto my wrists so that they’re bent wrongly, and this somehow cuts the fire off. I cry out in agony, but I’m cut off as his hands find my neck, and his boney fingers squeeze. 

    There’s nothing more terrifying than suffocating at the hands of your enemy, knowing that your entire life rests in their hands. I have to admit, this is one thing I definitely did not miss in all my years of being a so-called-superhero. 

    “This is what you deserve for destroying my entire life.” He hisses as the thin moonlight casts sharp shadows on his disfigured face, and the sight is something out of a horror movie. 

    Although it’s already dark, I see dark spots popping at the corner of my eyes as I choke and struggle for air. Although this man should be quite frankly, dead—or at least weak, I’m left riveted in his treacherous grip. 

    And then, as the darkness starts to close in on me, sleep becomes tempting. But then the smiling faces of my two kids, June and Will, pop into my head. 

    I can feel their small, fragile, hands in mine. I can hear the sound of their distinct voice, and special laugh. I can see their faces, beautiful, unique, and mine. 

    And as my body begins to go limp, I think, I can’t leave them. I can’t leave them all alone in this cruel world. I won’t let them feel what it’s like to be alone. 

    And this last thought sticks in my head. It adds a little spark to the fire getting snuffed out inside of me. I notice this. And I feed that fire. Over and over, I tell this to myself. I won’t let them feel what it’s like to be alone. 

    And soon, I can gather the strength to clench my fists. I shift ever so slightly, straining against the struggle to breathe. My eyes begin to flicker open. 

    Mr. Maniac is still sitting on top of me, bony fingers wrapped around my neck, bloodshot eyes flashing with murder. 

    He catches my eye, and his melted face twists with fury that I’m still alive. I choke on nothing and sharp pain shoots down my neck as he strangles me with more force. 

    But I don’t give in to the comforting thought of surrender. I twist my wrists that burn and sting at the movement. My palms are faced up towards him, but he doesn’t notice. Furiously, he shakes me by the neck, and agonizing pain burns throughout me. 

    “Why won’t you die?” He hisses, moonlight glinting off the spit that flies everywhere. 

    Despite the horrifying situation I’m in, a defiant smirk crawls across my face. 

    “Because…” The words break through my lips, strangled. “I have…” 

    His eyes flicker to my hand where a warm light that flashes to life. 

    Exerting as much strength that I can summon, I cry out as the flower of flame in my hand glows bright. “A family.”

    From both of my hands, harsh and searing fire flows out. The glowing flames envelop my attacker’s shocked and furious face, mercilessly clawing at his boiling raw face. 

    My kids’ sweet faces is what keeps the flames blazing out onto Mr. Maniac, regardless of how sweet surrender sounds. 

    For a terrifying moment, he seems unharmed by the raging flames. But soon, through the flapping arms of fire, I see his face twist in horror and agonizing pain. 

    Crying out with a blood-curdling scream, he tumbles backwards, fire still spraying out at him. He thrashes around, the fire clinging to his cloak. 

    Sweat glistens off of my skin, as I watch the scene with wide eyes. My fists close, cutting off the fire; I dont need anymore. There’s enough still clinging onto him, still doing its job. 

    In reality, I know it lasts only less than a few minutes, but it feels like he’s screaming and burning forever. He stumbles and dances around like a clown from a circus. The fire flashes against the walls, casting harsh shadows like some eery light show. 

    And then after what seems like forever, the man crumples to the ground, letting out one last death rattle. His bloodcurdling screams still seem to linger in the still air. But now he’s just a heap of black boiling skin, and a cloak crackling with a dying fire. 

    I sit there for there for a moment, trembling, processing. 

    I have to admit, I haven’t been in this much pain, or had this much adrenaline pumping through my blood, in a long time. For a moment it feels like I’m back in my teenage years, experiencing the pain of my injuries after fighting against my enemies for the first time.     

    All I can think is, I’m too old for this. 

    Someone groans in the back of the room, and my heart jumps into my throat. 

    Scrambling to my feet, and crying out with the unexpected pain, I hurry over to my husband. 

    He lies on the damp ground. It’s dark, but the moonlight streaming through the windows, and the crackling fire on the cloak, provides me light. 

    Moonshine gleams off the blade of the knife that’s pierced through my husband’s stomach. With trembling hands, I hold his face. Fear and anxiety wring my sick stomach as I stare helplessly at him. His eyes are flickering open and close. It takes him a struggling moment to recognize me, but when he does, a relieved smile crawls onto his face. 

    I gaze into his sky-blue eyes, tears running down my face and over my smiling mouth. “He’s gone… were okay.” 

    My voice comes out hoarse from getting choked, and I abruptly cough from how my throat burns. 

    With a wry smile, I voice my thought from before. “I’m too old for this.” 

    My husband chuckles, which sends him into  fit of coughs. Painfully, he looks down at the knife impaled in his stomach. “Yeah … me too.” 

    Sirens suddenly blare from somewhere in the distance, and they grow closer. Lifting a trembling hand under him, I help lift him to his feet. “Let’s get you to a hospital.” 

~ 

    Months later, I’m sitting on my porch, wine in one hand. I’m leaning into my husband, who’s healthy and good as new. Together, we watch our children zoom down the sidewalk on their bikes. 

    We’ve explained everything to them— at least, everything they need to hear for the time being. 

    No other bloodthirsty villains out for revenge has bothered us… so far. But after Mr. Maniac, we’ve definitely been on high alert. 

     I watch as June speeds up the sidewalk and flies past her brother, Will, who shouts at her to come back. Usually, I’d correct their behavior, but I’m so grateful that they’re at least alive, that all I do is sit back and smile. 

    I don’t know how I’ve ever lived life without them. I tip my head up to catch my husband’s eye. Or him. 

    I close my eyes, letting myself sigh and melt into my husband. I feel the warm pulse of the flickering fire inside of me. 

    All I know is no matter what happens, we’ll be ready. And that nothing is going to take my family away, if I can help it.