Flying Like Superman

This was part 1 of our tutor marked assignment.  We were asked to, in 500 words, write a complete mini-story where the central character is a child.  Write it from the child’s narrative point of view (using ‘I’), and in the past tense.  Pay attention to the kind of language a child might use; and to the observations particular to a child.

Use as your setting: a busy city street, where something has just happened, before the story actually begins.

Use some dialogue.

‘Was that boy trying to fly like Superman, Mummy?  Is that why he jumped off the top of that car park?  Is he magic?  Why isn’t he moving anymore?  Mummy?’

The big boy was lying still on the pavement.  I couldn’t see all of him because there were tons of people crowding round him who seemed to rush out of nowhere.  There were cars everywhere, the drivers were slowing right down to have a look as well.  I thought they wanted to see if he was going to fly off again.  I wanted to see that too, but Mummy grabbed my hand very tightly and pulled me away.

‘Come on Katy.’

I kept trying to look back at the boy.  He seemed to be really peaceful, but some of the people were screaming.  To my horror, Mummy’s hand was shaking.  Suddenly I felt frightened and didn’t want to be there in the town anymore.  I wanted to get home and play with my new Bratz doll.

Mummy stopped in a doorway and fished in her big bag for her mobile phone.

‘Police please,’ I heard her say.  She sounded different, her voice was so squeaky and scared.  I couldn’t hear everything she said over all the screaming and traffic, although I made out a word I hadn’t heard before. 

‘Suicide.’  It sounded a bit like Superman.

As Mummy finished on the phone, a load of big boys and girls came running out of the multi-storey car park.  One of them was our neighbour Billie.  She smoked a lot, and my daddy once said her face was like a pincushion because of all the gold stuff she wore, but she was always nice to me and once gave me a packet of Gummi Frogs.  Today she was crying so hard the black stuff she wore round her eyes had leaked all down her face.

‘Wendy,’ she saw Mummy and threw herself at her, ‘that’s Aaron!’

‘Oh no!’  Mummy’s face turned the colour of sponge cake mix.

Aaron was a boy I’d seen Billie with sometimes.  I’d heard my mummy and Billie’s mummy talk about him once, when they thought I couldn’t hear.  It sounded like Aaron was poorly.  Mummy said something about him ‘going off the rails,’ though he didn’t look old enough to be a train driver.

‘He’d said he was gonna jump.  Most of us were begging him not to do it, but those bloody bullies were egging him on, shouting things like “How hard d’you reckon you’ll bounce?”  It was their fault the poor lad was so unhappy in the first place.  All your fault!’  Billie screeched the last bit at some of the boys as they came out.  ‘Aaron’s dead because of you.’

Mummy clasped Billie’s arms to stop her hitting the nasty boys, who carried on laughing and texting on their mobiles as they ran off.

Dead?  I finally understood that our Superman would never be able to fly again, and I started to cry too.