Everyday Canvas

Powers

Prompt:
Have fun with this prompt: On your birthday, you miraculously survive a deadly car crash without a scratch. Later that week, you watch a small scratch heal and disappear right before your eyes. Where did this new power come from and what will you do with it?

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Reader beware: This is a short story, only in imagination. I have no such powers.

Powers

Oh, my God! All this began happening on my birthday, believe it or not! So, what I am going to tell you I take it as my birthday gift from powers that be. Here it goes:

I blinked, trying to make sense of the world around me. One moment, I had been driving home, singing along to the radio, and the next, I was upside down, hanging by my seatbelt in a mangled car. The airbag had deployed, the dashboard was a crumpled mess, and shards of glass glittered around me like malicious confetti.

Slowly, I unbuckled my seatbelt, landing awkwardly on the car's roof. I crawled out through the shattered window, expecting pain to surge through my body, but there was nothing. Not a single scratch or bruise marred my skin. I stood up, shaking, and saw people running towards me, their faces a mix of horror and relief.

"Are you alright?" a man yelled, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice trembling. "I think so."

Paramedics arrived and insisted on checking me over, finding nothing wrong. So they made me go to the hospital with them for a thorough check up. Guess what? Nothing was wrong. I was a miracle, the doctors and nurses said. A freak accident survivor without a mark. I didn't feel like a miracle. I felt numb and confused.

The days that followed were surreal. Friends and family hovered, their concern was obvious. My son kept fussing, convinced I was in shock and it would all hit me later. But I felt fine. Better than fine, actually. I felt... invincible.

Three days after the crash, I was at home, trying to get back to normal. I was making dinner when I accidentally nicked my finger with a knife. I winced, expecting blood, but what I saw stopped me cold. The cut was shallow, but as I watched, the skin knitted itself back together, the wound vanishing in seconds.

I stared at my finger, then at the knife, then back at my finger. Did that just happen? I cut myself again, just a small slice, and watched in stunned silence as it healed before my eyes.

I dropped the knife, my heart pounding. Was this some delayed reaction to the crash? A hallucination? I ran to the bathroom, searching for any other injuries I might have missed. Nothing. Not a single blemish or scar.

Over the next few days, I tested it repeatedly. Cuts, bruises, even a burn from the stove—all healed in moments. I was invincible. The realization was intoxicating and terrifying. I had survived a crash without a scratch and now, my body could heal itself instantly.

I didn't tell anyone. How could I? "Hey, Son, guess what? I'm like Wolverine now!" No, I kept it to myself, grappling with this new reality alone. But with this power came a sense of dread. Why had this happened to me? What was I supposed to do with this?

One afternoon, as I sat on my La-Z-Boy, staring at the healed scratch on my finger, a thought struck me. Maybe this wasn't just about survival. Maybe I was given this gift for a reason. To help others, to save lives. But first, I needed to understand it. To control it.

I took a deep breath, the weight of this new responsibility settling over me. Whatever this power was, it had chosen me. And I would not waste it.

So I picked up the phone and dialed.
"Could you tell me where I can volunteer to be a rescue worker, like a fireman or a paramedic?"