A Super Villain is Born; Part One:

Growing up in Frostville

I feel as though I was a normal child. I had friends, teachers, parents. I went to school, played kick ball, studied multiplication tables. My favorite thing was skipping stones with my friend, Jacob, at the pond behind the school. It wasn't the friendship that drew me into these outings, it was the moment of silence, weightlessness, harmony, when this heavy chunk of earth defied gravity. We would spend hours digging through rock piles, searching for the perfect stone. If it worked, if that stone achieved multiple glimpses of bliss, we would trudge through the pond until we found the perfection. We hid these ideas, moments, aspirations; our treasure, MY treasure.

Frost pond, as it was called, held a special place in my heart. When things were going poorly, when friends moved away or the first girl I loved spurned my advances I would retreat there. The memories made me feel safe. I would sit in silence wishing I could feel half of what those stones felt. When they flew through the air they were free. After their taste of freedom we locked them away, hidden, trapped, not happy, just nothingness.

That's what I felt on these days. I was trapped in a small hole, but I had not tasted freedom, could not. All I could do was hope, and imagine the possibilities that lie in that little word. Fleeing to the one place I had even seen freedom, sitting next to an underground prison, I pondered what was worse; locked up after experiencing such excitement, or never being capable of it. Perhaps I was never normal, perhaps I just enjoyed the idea of normality, perhaps I would like to see my youthful self that way even now.

Children are often told they are capable of achieving anything. As a young boy I refused to believe that, but now the fact stares my enemies in the face, I will achieve greatness.

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Stay tuned for Part Two next Wednesday, and a recording of me reading this section that following Friday. Use the links below and spread the word.  Frost sticks to everything around it, just as my story shall.