When people asked why Iâm worth so much, I shrugged. I mean, what am I supposed to say? Itâs a question as random as: âwhy are your eyes blue?â or âhowâd you get to be so tall?â. Thereâs no right way to answer it without bullshitting.
Sure, I could say itâs genetics, but I highly doubt that. My fatherâs a farmer and is married to a stay-at-home mom. Theyâre nice people, of course, but nice doesnât seem to correlate to value. They both barely scratch a hundred thousand dollars combined.
I could say it was a mistake. After all, there wasnât always an explanation. Most people who did stand out were famous in some facet but every once in a while, a baby was born with an exceptional price. I feel bad for them. They have to live a life of everyone bearing down on them to reach their full potential. Iâm just lucky that Iâm already in my twenties and a somewhat established carpenter. It pays the bill and thatâs all I need.
That was, until I gained worldwide recognition.
Ever since Iâve been valued at fifty trillion â yes, you read it right â people have been treating me a lot differently. Old friends, past girlfriends, and annoying family members have popped out of the woodwork like crazy to capitalize on my newfound fame. Suddenly, I was desirable because of the unknown. And as far as they knew, it was better to make friends than enemies.
I became the focus of many scientists. They figured if I didnât have political, monetary, or social power, it must have been something inside me that was unique. A series of tests were run on my body, analyzing every single cell for what makes me tick. The results were a little⊠unsatisfactory.
Superior athletic ability? Nope.
Cancer-resistant genes? Unfortunately, no.
Unexplainable superpowers? Only in my dreams.
After wearing me to the bone with tests and sucking me dry of blood, they gave up their attempts. As far as they could tell, I was an enigma no one knew how to solve. And at the rate they were going, I was going to be long dead before they made any headway.
Then the paparazzi came into play. Do you know what itâs like being stalked by a gaggle of sleazebags with cameras who have no sense of personal space? I have one word for it â shitty.
Well, one day, I was jogging at the nearby park. In hindsight, it was stupid, but I thought it was safe enough. I never expected them to swarm me like a cloud of bees. But by the time they surrounded me, it was too late to get away.
So I did what any reasonable person would, I sprinted like hell. In fact, I ran so fast that I didnât even notice I was on a direct course for the pond in front of me. By the time I realized, I already had one foot on the surface of the water.
Before I knew it, I was running on water. It wasnât a mind-trick, at least not as far as I could tell. I was actually doing it of my own accord.
I turned back to the paparazzi. They were momentarily stunned but started to snap photos again. After all, they had to get the perfect shot. It would be the height of anyoneâs career once it reached the tabloids.
Everyone wants to see the first photo proof of the Second Coming.
janainaart
prguitarman
snowghoul
vaporwave
blakekathryn
kianamaiart
titsay
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
