Chapter Text
There are many negative connotations and beliefs surrounding that which we can’t understand. It is the human instinct to react with aggression and fear, to prepare for retaliation that may never come. It doesn’t matter whether or not the “thing” others fear is a spider, a reptile, or maybe even something as simple as a color. It doesn’t matter if the thing which you fear is a person .
In a society of unique powers and appearances, one might think that being different would be social normality. This simply isn’t true.
Despite the fact that our society has created a new norm over the past two centuries, there are always those who are beaten down and forced to be the stepping stones for others to walk over. It is a sad truth that everyone can never truly be equal to one another.
This story is written in dedication to a friend of mine, perhaps even my brother, to whom I shall refer to as Eidolon. In a world now filled with heroes and villains, no one could deny Eidolon’s heroic heart and selfless spirit. He wanted to be a hero as soon as he understood the meaning of the word, his explanation for his dream only ever being that he simply wanted to help people. There was unfortunately a setback for Eidolon, a simple extra toe joint was all it took for a society that worshiped heroes to turn and crush one of the few true heroes before he even had a chance to prove himself.
Eidolon was beaten down, lacking the encouragement telling him that he could reach his dream of being a hero. His life was cut short by his own doing, but he never truly left.
This story is a dedication to Eidolon. It is an explanation for everything he was still able to do long past the end of his life. It is a way to remember that he did exist.
I wish for this to be a memorial for him and help shine a light on the acts of a hero who still managed to save numerous lives, despite the fact that no one had saved him.
I shall start with the simplest misconception that might occur in Eidolon’s story. The difference between a ghost and a spirit. Many might simply say they are the same, a remnant of a person once living. In truth, they are different.
Ghosts are those who haunt you in the night, the scary forms of shadows and mist that someone blames as the reason for the bumps and creaks of the night. They are not rational and could be compared to a psychotic human; having little to none of their living qualities left. A ghost is tied to the spot it died; it is a sudden or tragic death where they often don’t even realize they are dead, nor would they accept the fact that they are dead or the way they died. The widely accepted theory of “unfinished business” is tied to what a ghost is. This could range from a simple strong attachment to their home, to darker energies burning with violence and rage.
Spirits are the opposite. Spirits are those who retain their living personalities and are meant to move on. They are not tied to one location such as their spot of death and are instead able to roam as they please, often described by paranormal researchers as able to pass back and forth between the land of the dead and living. This is only theorized though and is speculated to primarily happen between a spirit and a remaining living loved one. Where a ghost represents a blotchy memory, a spirit is a soul left without a physical body.
Eidolon was neither. He more closely resembled what a spirit represented, but he lacked a tie to keep him on the plane of the living. One might ask why he stayed then, why he would want to linger in the world that had only ever hurt him.
To that I say, I do not know. Eidolon may have once been my brother, but even I could not always understand how his mind worked. I had asked him once, why he stayed.
“I didn’t want to. It was more like I was stuck, and if I couldn’t be a hero in life, then why not try it in death? No one could stop me.”
Eidolon moved on years ago, and many will never know the true hero of the story. I write now to tell you who really saved the day, to explain what he did and try to explain why. After all, Eidolon moved mostly on instinct, often saying his legs moved before his brain even knew he was moving.
Most would say Eidolon’s story began when he died, but I prefer to say his story started when he was just 5-years-old. It was in a small doctor’s office, waiting to be told what his quirk could be….