I Can't Control it Anymore

         I Can't Control it Anymore
 darkness stories

toddthurman Trying to stand up and say what's beauty
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Even heroes need to bleed.

I Can't Control it Anymore

I woke, a beast with purpose in its veins.

I felt like some weakers were in need of a wall.

It felt inconsistent, to hate the darkness, but not a raise of fist to it.

But what is one man, with so many tigers?

So I researched the Crap out of things. Burnt the wick, at both ends.

But what can you do, when you're locked in four corners?

And so I went out there. Into the world, where NIGHT could happen. . .

It wasn't easy. The tigers were bigger than the ones you see at the zoos.

And I had a coward, still hiding in me. I was not ready, to see my own shadow. To go . . . fully into the NIGHT.

But then one arachnid changed all that. . .

I could jump. I could fly. I could lift an elephant, if I needed to.

I could even shoot sticky from the palms of my hand . . . --that was WEIRD!

But you get used to these. Everything can become . . . your new normal.

All it took. . . was a little adrenalin. a little intentionality. a tiny bit of hatred.

Soon, I could slay a rhino, with a stinger in my butt. It's odd, I know.

But the people thanked me. To the weakers . . . I was a god among legends.

They brought me burnt offerings . . . and I slew their beasts for them.

and I enjoyed myself for a while. It's good to be king. to be hero.

but soon you started to want things for yourself. no longer content . . . for applaud and a paycheck.

Why couldn't I too have the tallest of towers? The loftiest of perches. My own beauties. . . to come and my beck and call?

I started to learn. . . those things which drove the villains I conquered.

the quest for more . . . that was in your reach. How does one curb this?

When one is a god?

So soon I took. Whatever I wanted. By hook . . . or crook . . . by web . . . or by wonder.

For I was . . . the Spider-Man.

One day though, I saw two things . . . which throttled my world. It was two different children.

I found the first child pretending to shoot webs at cars passing by. And then he'd hide behind other vehicles. He seemed to enjoy destruction and power.

I covered my eyes. It was hard to look at.

I had become. . . the wrong sort of thing to emulate. I didn't like what I saw in that child.

The second was a girl. She just sat crying. Her mother asked her what was wrong. She said it was the Spider-Man. He no longer was himself.

They say that children are nothing in this world. Just wee adults, only half-baked.

But these little people were who turned me around.

I gave back what I'd stole. I destroyed those castles I didn't need to live in.

I decided to make children adore me again. but for the right reasons.

So I turned myself in. I sought for quiet places to consider my future.

I swam in waters which clean the soul.

Sometimes you have to come clean. . . to do good in your world.

. . .have to repent.

even heroes!

Do I still have my shadow? of course. Who doesn't?

but would you have me . . . any other way?

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