Superman Suit

My childhood was as eventful as any other, and no memory stands out in my mind. Nothing spectacular happened to me, and I never tried any spectacular. That was until I got my first Superman suit. It was Christmas day. I woke up early, about five o'clock, and stumbled to the door. I flicked the light switch on, and my Christmas day began.

I slowly crept down the passage to the lounge, and then the tree, and then the presents. My hands caressed the first package, and then devoured the paper and spat it out, to reveal a box with a large red "S" on it. It was the Superman sign, and that meant I had received the ultimate gift - a Superman suit. I tore it from the box and pressed it to my chest. All the other presents were insignificant and without purpose. My arms became stronger; my eyes pierced the walls as the suit slipped over my body. I became a blue and red killing machine. I would go anywhere, do anything and beat up anyone. I clipped my cape on and immediately acquired the power of flight.

I realised I had to test my abilities, I had to learn to fly. I needed to wait until the adults were drunk from Christmas lunch, and no one would notice me slip out onto the balcony. My moment came and I seized it. I closed the sliding door safely behind me and faced the world, ready to conquer it. I climbed onto the ledge with some difficulty, the bricks were cold and rough to the touch. I was ready to take the first step toward becoming a superhero. Still clad in blue and red armour, I summoned all my courage and shuffled toward the edge, and then I froze. My legs did not share my need to feel the air in my cape, the sun in my face and the freedom of flight. I tried to jump, because once I was in the air, I knew I would take off.

I felt my cape pull me back onto the balcony. I fell back and saw my dad, white in the face and clutching at my cape. I felt my moment had gone, my time to shine was over. The world would have to go without Superman for one more day, or at least until next Christmas