Hope I wasn’t to specific but enjoy writing!

Falling Up

Cadence stood atop the tallest building in her neon-lit city—a towering sixty-story monstrosity. She wore a black bomber jacket, her hood up as she stuffed her hands into its pockets. The front of her hover board jutted out over open space, her leading foot resting there as her weight anchored the tail against the ledge. Far below, the distant streets grouped buildings, accenting it all in pinks and blues, the colors coalescing, dispersing, and weaving in an out to paint some places purple.

She had been afraid when she was young. Afraid of the dark. Afraid to be alone. Afraid of everything. She snapped her fingers and the tip of her index finger radiated a pink glow. She fanned the hand around to stream a neon afterimage as sparks flitted like embers shed from a lit flare. Now, that she lived in the dark alone, she struggled to see the sense in anything she felt before.

When she thought back on that day, it had all happened so fast. If only she had had more time. She had chased her ball into the street. A truck was coming. A horn blared. Tires screeched. Then, her pop was there scooping her into a hug. The world suddenly lurched. It whirled around her and spun her into a sleep. When she woke again, he was gone. It was as if he had been part of the best dream where waking had somehow proved he wasn’t real.

She withdrew her hood, lifted her chin and closed her eyes to let the rainfall dribble against her upturned face. Initially, two-to-three droplets met her face each second. Then, it was one-to-two. Soon, seconds passed before she felt a subsequent nudge.

When she opened her eyes, the dark sky fell away like an abyss and the suspended rain approached like air bubbles showing her the way to the surface. Her gaze settled, the water hovering around her as if reality was merely a set of near walls that it clung to. She tugged a set of goggles down over her eyes, then released her anchor.

Cadence could feel the wind pushing around her face, feel the water wicking from her ears. But it all happened so slow that she could count the passing rain, even lean way or bisect them with her glowing finger if she had a mind to. Instead, she just cut lazy S’s, her finger’s afterimage streaming behind her like a banner.

Long ago, a calamity had created a perpetual night. People started manifesting powers and wondered what it meant. Everyone guessed. No one knew.

Clouds drifted by. She brushed them with her fingers, but they didn’t brush her back. For her, the powers meant that a dream had ended and this was just a way to deal with an unwelcome reality.

A drone floated up and she leaned near, encircling it and almost laying flat where her feet wound around it like the hands of a clock. The small craft was for surveillance, four Fenstron propellers occupying the tips of its ‘X’ design. What does it see when it looks at me? Am I moving fast? Does it see me at all?

The drone sailed up into the abyss as the near windows scrolled like a roll of film. For a long time, she thought she had been looking for a reason to return to the dream. But she had been wrong. It wasn’t about searching; it was about observing. It was about appreciating what was still here, and realizing how fragile was the dream from which you could awake.

Cadence spun into a corkscrew, her glowing finger connecting droplets like dots. They each exploded and reached towards one another. A branching weave wound up through her spiral, her submerged finger refracting and causing the air to shimmer. A column of glittering pink air descended all the way to the tenth floor before spot lights shone on the building and followed after her.

She grinned and leveled her board to sail across the street. Fun’s over, it seems. Downtown structures grew up around her as if she was descending an escalator. A last pivot sent her down an alley. She twisted her heel free of the board, stepped down onto asphalt, and kicked her ride up to lay against her shoulder.

The rain quickened to its previous rhythm as she pulled her hood up, the night’s subjugation ending as she engaged the same thought she did on all such occasions.

Thanks, Pop.

Original Prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/sybtjy/pm_powers_are_born_from_moments_of_trauma_a/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Any feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading!