My origin story
*I wrote this a few years back for a school project. We had to invent a superhero's origine story and I thought I would show it.*
My name is Mors Susurro. Ever
since I was fourteen, I can communicate with the dead.
Actually, I have to talk to them. There is nothing I can do
to make them stop talking, except making sure the least
people die.
When I was a teenager, my friends and I played ouija. I
still regret going to that old abandoned warehouse. We
didn't believe anything would happen, alas we were so
wrong. We began the game. At first nothing happened,
but soon things got scary . Lights flickering, doors
slamming shut, creepy laughter all around us. Sophie was
the first to break the rules and take her hands off the
board. “I'm sorry guys, this is too much!” She said as tears
fell down her cheeks. She ran off but dropped dead on the
floor. Her brother Sam jumped up and screamed. He
shook her lifeless body but seconds after he fell dead as
well. The pointer moved and spelled out B-E C-A-R-E-F-U-L. My hands shaking, I moved it to the goodbye symbol.
I safely removed my fingers from the game. Although they
were dead, I still could hear my friends voices. “What
happened?” “Why did you do that?” The closer I got to the
bodies, the louder the words. I ran past old machinery and
heard “Thank god technology advanced, right buddy?” He
was talking to me. I couldn't see him but I knew this was
where he had died. I understood that the closer I got to
someone's place of death, the more I could talk with them.
I wish I had a good motive for saving people, but I'm
selfish. I just can't stand all the voices anymore. I just
don't want more people talking. The ghosts could help me
but I don't want to interact with them. I don't get close to but I don't want to interact with them. I don't get close to
people anymore, since they might die and I'll hear them.
The things dead say are anything but peaceful. I guess
I'm still a superhero since I save people, but I don't feel like one. I'm nothing but a death whisperer.