Silverbolt #1 Heavenly intervention

A Story by Jolan H

My attempt to write a superhero story

It's was Sunday, and people filled the pews in the modest church. It looked like every other temple dedicated to the divine. The captive audience watched the pastor say something about witches. A closer look at the semi pious and downright bored faces of the assembly will show a young man squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

His name is Ethan Argent, a typical teen with the usual problems. That was before he was forever changed. His entire body felt like someone was holding a candle inches away from his skin, and then an intense tingling sensation. Mr. and Mrs. Argent turned to admonish their son. Mr. Argent poked him with a single finger, only to have his face locked in a tight grimace of pain. The grey eyes of Mr. Argent glazed over, and he shook like a fish out of water.

Ethan pulled back only to see his father slump over, and his mother did her rendition of The Scream, by Edvard Munch, sans scream. The pain intensified, lightning began to dance all over his body. Ethan's mud-brown eyes burned, making it hard to see anything. His entire scalp felt like it was boiling off his skull. Ethan felt the soft carpet beneath him as he tumbled to the ground in near paralysis.

People in the room were now falling to their knees, praising god. A few others acted like exorcists, waving their hands trying to cast the demon out of Ethan. The pastor was trying to get a grip on the crowd. All the proselytizing in the world wasn't going to reign the large group in. The last thing Ethan saw was ten sets of eyes watching him.

Ethan woke up an hour later. His body ached, and his head swam like a school of fish. His legs trembled and felt like rubber. Still, Ethan managed to wobble onto his feet. "Everyone left me here? What happened to dad?"

The truth can be a bitter pill Ethan to swallow. He knew they left him behind on purpose. Probably because they knew he was going to be alright? No, that wasn't it. They were scared and decided to abandon him. He forgave them, especially his parents.

"I'll take a cab to the hospital...where's my money? I got robbed and abandoned in a church." He shrugged. "Thirty-minute walk it is," he said to himself. His throat felt scorched and burned. Water, he needed water.

The bathroom lights were off but illuminated the moment he entered the room. He stopped dead in his tracks and walked backward. The lights went out. He did this two more times to make sure it wasn't some crossed wire.

He almost died after he looked in the mirror, "What the hell is going...My hair." His short hair had turned silver and stood up like a multitude of lightning bolts.

"At least it doesn't look bad." He turned the tap on, drinking rapidly. Each sip was like dropping water on a wildfire. His body stopped throbbing, much to Ethan's relief.

He shoved a stall door open, it crumpled in half and fell at his feet, "That's not right..." Something was wrong. He struggled to lift fifty pounds the other day. It didn't matter, nobody saw it, and in theory his parents had answers.

Downtown Whitford

The streets of Whitford were teeming with the hustle and bustle of small-town life. Fresh air, sunny weather, promised the trip home would at least be somewhat pleasant. Ethan could feel his luck turning around.

His luck did take a turn, from bad, to obscure. What happened at the church was all over town. A text with IP address in his message box, "Exclusive footage only at www.whitfordherald.ca." He clicked on the link, and it took him to a video titled, "Earthbound Angel Smites Man In Church."

"Is this a joke?" Ethan knew no one was stupid enough to believe it.

He strolled down the street, not a care in the world. It didn't last long. People cowered in fear as he passed by, some shrank from his presence. The text was no joke. A man was slowly backing away from him.

"Look, he is pushing that man into traffic with his mind," a woman shouted while she pointed at Ethan. Everyone and their dog came out to stare at him in terror.

The man was too busy watching Ethan, and he didn't hear or see the big rig coming at him. Ethan covered his eyes, all he heard was a loud thump, people screaming, and the sound of feet striking the pavement.

"I didn't touch him," Ethan said. His stomach churned like an Amish person making butter. Why would anyone think he was capable of hurting someone like that? Right, the video. He questioned his decision to go to the hospital. The only reason to go now was closure.

The gauntlet of weird encounters didn't end on Mainstreet. He ran into Ms. Brindamour. Ms. Brindamour was one of his father's many lovers. His father believed the only one he was hurting was himself. In truth, Ethan couldn't make friends because of angry husbands who took their grudges out on him.

   "Angel of the lord, please forgive my transgresses," she said. The buxom blonde fell to her knees.

    "Stop sleeping with married men, and get tested," Ethan said. He was annoyed with the angel thing already. "Who knows what plagues you might be spreading with your womanhood."

At one time, Ethan had respect for the woman. Her beauty wasn't her only asset. She genuinely cared about her students and tried to be fair. Now all he saw was a pathetic woman desperate for affection.

Whitford Local Hospital.

The hospital was Mainstreet all over again. People fell over one another to get out of his way. No one wanted to listen to reason. He gave up and embraced the absurdity of the situation.

He strode up to the reception desk, "I want to know where James Argent is."

The woman behind the counter looked at him pleadingly, "You aren't going to shock me like James, are you?"

"James Argent is my dad. What happened in the church was an accident. I had..."

"Room 304, and thank you for your mercy."

Ethan gave up on explaining the situation. Life was too short to argue with stupid people. "Thank you, have a blessed day." When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

The congregation had come in support of his mother. The husbands kept their suspicious eyes trained on the door. Ethan knew they expected him to show up. The question was how to present himself? It was a rhetorical question. Given his experience thus far, pretending to be the angel was the only choice he had.

He strolled into the room as if he owned it. The men were brave enough to back away. The woman held each other and cried out in fear.

Ethan watched his refined mother fall at his feet and clutched his pant leg, "Why has god forsaken my husband?" She cried.

"I am well aware of all his transgressions. You are no better, leaving your son in the church alone. God thinks your cup is full of iniquity, and you James deserve each other. Your son forgives you, by the way." Ethan made sure she felt lower than any creature underground. She deserved no less.

Catherine's whole visage changed at the mention of her only child. Her face grew hard. Narrow slits barely exposed her eyes. "My son forgives me? I don't forgive him for what happened to James. I hope he never gets found. He was a drain in on resources. I had him to keep James happy." Venom dripped from her words.

Anger, Ethan was full of it. A tingling sensation crept along Ethan's arm, little bolts of electricity followed it. His face narrowed, as he raised his fist energy crackling and dancing over his knuckles. "You are quite the pathetic creature, aren't you? I should smite you here and now."

Cathrine's cheeks became a waterfall of tears. She gripped his pant leg again. "I'm sorry, so sorry..."

Ethan just walked away, knowing he had made the right decision. He chose Edmonton as his next destination. He planned to stop by his parent's house, gather some belongings, and leave.

Argent Residence.

The neighborhood was quiet. Not a dog barked, nor a cat meowed. It was a welcome change of pace. The walk home only reinforced his resolve to leave Whitford, and it's stupidity behind. Everyone he met quoted bible verses and bowed, as he lumbered his way home.

His house was quiet. The deafening silence was not a stranger in the broken home. It was an old friend that moved in above the garage and never left. Problems never got solved or talked about because
it was easier to sweep it under the rug.

After a shower and some fresh clothes, he felt the foam mattress hug his body. He looked over at the Captain Canuck statue and placed it on his stomach. Ethan told the sculpted figure, his darkest secrets, and his greatest joys.

"Do you remember when I said leaving here is the only way we are going to have a life? The day has come, far earlier than expected. I can't pretend things aren't breaking down here. With dad in the hospital, and mom driving the crazymobile, it will only get worse from here on out."

It was cathartic to ransack the house looking for money. He was grateful his father had money hidden all over the house. Ethan was not sure why James chose to do this. He came up with a tidy some. Next, he packed a little food and a sturdy pup tent.

He found a cigar box with a Ruger Blackhawk in a belt clip holster and two boxes of ammunition in another container. "It would be stupid to leave it behind." Hitchhiking was sketchy at the best of times. In winter, wolves tested the boundaries of their territory. Some packs were brazen enough to attack humans.

Ethan had plenty of time to think because nobody wanted to pick him up. He reviewed all his memories with his parents. His dad did care about him more than his mom, but not by much. "They should have got a dog."

The night began to fall, and the wind picked up. Ethan was unfortunate enough to be caught in between two open fields. The wind was voracious, biting through his coat and gloves. There would be no point in going on if he froze to death. It was time to make camp.

Bright lights shone from behind him. He eagerly stood on the side of the highway thumb extended. "Come on, stop."

The White SUV pulled onto the shoulder of the highway. Two men burst from the backseat with a set of restraints and a sack. Ethan tried to run, but he was exhausted. The rough burlap scraped his face and scalp, as they shoved it over his face, and restrained his hands with expert precision.

The odor of grease and oil wafted over his nostrils as his kidnappers plopped him in the trunk before resuming their journey. Ethan wasn't sure where they were going, but he guessed it wouldn't end well for him.