Fixing Our Paradox

Super Heroes are perfect examples of the human imagination, and that’s exactly what Skylar Pierce believed them to be. Then her husband comes home claiming to actually be one, but stuck in a paradox world. Before she knew it she was torn from reality and thrown into her own comic book, trying to decide who to believe: Her loving husband or her own common sense.


1. Prologue


I cursed quietly as the cup of water fell off the table. I quickly tried to save it from its fall, but my brilliant effort only managed to get paint all over my new shirt. I gave a sad little groan as I drooped my head. 

"Now there's a mess on my shirt too..." I mumbled, closing my eyes. Graduation was just two weeks away, and I still had a final art project to complete and turn in. The problem was, I had no inspiration and nothing came to mind when I tried to sketch. This final looked like it'd be the death of me. Maybe I wouldn't make it to graduation because I had stabbed myself with a paintbrush.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I suddenly jerked away. My sudden movements made me collide with the canvas, throwing me and the canvas off balance and onto the studio floor. I sat up and looked down at my clothes. I could always turn myself in as a final project if I continued to cover myself in vibrant paint like this. 

I finally looked up to see who had startled me, and couldn't help but be confused. Nathan Pierce stood above me, eyes wide with shock as he stared down at me. 

"Can I help you?" I snapped, beginning to lift myself off the dirty floor. He suddenly reached down towards me, offer his hand. I stopped, half on the floor and half up. I stared his offered hand for a long moment before looking up at Nathan again. Our eyes met and things sort of clicked. 

"Maybe I should be the one helping you?" He suggested. I smiled slightly and took his hand, letting him help me off the floor. We stood there, looking at each other with her hands still grasped. I finally decided that shaking his hand would be a little less awkward.

"Thanks, but why are you here? I don't think this is the Chem Lab." I saw a small tint of red appear on his freckled cheeks before he let go of my hand. 

"Oh, I wasn't really looking for the lab... I was looking for Mrs. Starla." Hearing that he was here for my art teacher was interesting. Why would a Chemistry nerd be looking for an art teacher?

"She left for lunch not too long ago. Do I need to tell her something?" He looked at me for the longest moment before he smiled. He shook his head and then grabbed a small rag from a nearby table. 

"No thanks, I'll just wait for her." He handed me the rag and looked down at the paint on his own hands as I took it from him. 

"She won't be back for another hour." I began cleaning the paint off my hands, glad that it wasn't that fast drying kind.

"That's plenty of time to get to know you."

I gave a small gasp at that response. I quickly made sure to busy myself with the rag and paint so he couldn't see the heat in my cheeks. Unlike him, I actually care if someone sees my face get red.

"Well... I'm not going anywhere... twenty questions?" He smiled, nodding as I finally looked up at him.

"Yea, twenty questions."

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