The SupermanA Story by Charles Kadib
While the world was still sleeping he got out of his house, dressed in a track suit and began his daily jog around the neigbourhood. As his fame had increased it had become increasingly important to do his rounds when no one was around to mug him or even confirm that such rounds existed otherwise the next thing you would know is that some crazy fans would start stalking him, time was not a limitation for them. The run usually took him across four streets, or five if he had the time or strenght. In the beginning he had been scared because the streets were so quiet and he rarely bumped into anyone.
strange and violent things could happen, his heart had told him back then, but he had ignored it and now the loneliness was the only thing he loved about the run..the solitude and the quiet. The fresh early morning breeze that surged through his lungs,the deep blue sky that spilled on everything, the treading of his feet as he ran. His feet and his breathing were the only sounds to be heard and all around him were the silhouettes of houses,cars and trees with birds that didn't chirp because they were asleep-the whole world was and he liked it that way, the last man on earth. He liked it because his life was becoming disturbingly filled with people he wished he could do without,people he disliked but had to endure. His producer,his manager, studio attendants, record label heads and worse of all the fans who busied his facebook pages,his email box,his phone lines all of them wanted a piece of his time.there were also endless meetings with sponsors,companies and event organizers who would like him to perform in their numerous talks and shows. At first he had been glad of the attention, he knew how it had all started that day while he was walking aimlessly in his former neigbourhood,looking at the sky and realizing that one day he would be unable to look at it because he would be dead and so before death came he must make a mark on earth. That was the thought back then, it was such a strong determination that he put in so much man-hours and effort into accomplishing, he so wanted to make a mark,he had wanted desperately to live a little... His run took him into a hilly street and the strain of running up the hill began to tell on his knees but he pushed on,it was not a new thing to him,he had done harder things. He remembered in his university days a visiting psychiatrist had ran some quick tests and diagonised that he was badly afflicted with ADHD and he had been suspecting as much,still he finished with a second class upper level..it had been his brother who had made that powerful statement that was the baine of his life. 'If a man can suceed when he is at war with himself, that man is a super man.' And it had struck him that though the world was against you and though he couldn't even rely on his own brain but still there was hope,there was a chance that he was a superman. And he had those black days,terrible days when he felt that he could not continue when he felt so weak and little,so insignificant but he had continued to dream just for the hell of it. Looking back at those days he realized that what had kept him going was not determination or hope but fear of continuing as an insignificant being, forgotten by even his best friends and families;he could not live that life,he couldn't bear not existing. He desperately wanted to be noticed, he desperately wanted to be superman and now he was here. Now he was at the top of the hill and looking to clear the fourth street before it became too late in the day..all the allure always went away with prussian blue of the early morning sky, he ran quickly and checked the sky as he ran then halfway through the street he stopped abruptly and began to retrace his steps, he had seen the cars begin to lgnite, birds were beginning to chirp and flutter about in trees,lights glowed through the curtained windows of houses..the world was starting to wake up. At the top of the hill he stood and admired the porshe neigbourhood,the perfectly lawned grass and the costly cars. So this was what he had hustled for. He recalled that somewhere along the line he had begun to think that fame would bring him sastisfaction and now as he watched the houses pick up the light of the rising sun, he asked himself if that had really happened. He was scared of the answer, scared that the struggle with himself would continue. Slowly,he began his descent down the hill.. © 2015 Charles KadibReviews
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2 Reviews Added on January 7, 2015 Last Updated on January 7, 2015 AuthorCharles KadibPort-Harcourt , NigeriaAboutI favour the subtle approach, tiny little details embedded in the work that finally become highly significant in the end..dont know why, maybe cos i like the little guys so much. more..Writing
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