no ordinary world 1

no ordinary world

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1





.

Sunrise always inspired Clark.

He could be laying in bed, not really asleep, nor really awake, just looking at the dull violets of the sky through the window facing east. It was that sliver of morning before dawn, before the sun broke open the horizon with its burgeoning red sphere.

And then, it would appear.

The red sun.

Glorious and deep.

Ominous and mesmerizing.

It was then, and only then that Clark would stir, his legs swept off the bed and into his house shoes. He would move quietly to the bathroom and close the door gently, barely making a peep so that his wife wouldn't wake.

Clark then washed his face, while the shower warmed up.

Steam would always build on the mirror, signalling that it was time to lather up his hair and jump in.

The water would always be just the right temperature, not to cold, not to hot. The scent of the bar soap minty and fresh, a nice fragrance to wake him up completely by the time he stepped out.

Clark would then shave, ever so carefully, his shadow disappearing from his strong chin with every sweep of the razor.

Lastly he would brush his teeth, floss, and towel his hair. And by the time he opened the bathroom door, his wife would be right outside of it, handing him the morning paper.

"Goodmorning, Lois." Clark smiled, leaning down to kiss the brunette on the cheek.

She patted his freshly shaved face and smiled, "You look especially handsome today."

Clark smiled and then bent down again to steal another kiss, this time on the lips.

But Lois scooted away too soon, "Must be that new aftershave I bought you. Do you like it?"

Clark straightened back up, unfolding the paper. "Yeah, it's nice." He said indifferently.

Lois smiled brightly and threw on her robe. "Well, breakfast is ready. Whenever you are."

Clark lowered the paper. No matter how early he woke, Lois always seemed to wake up right after, having the morning meal hot and ready.

Clockwork.

Clark sighed and walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

The sun was higher in the sky now, breaking through some low lying clouds.

He sat at the table, spreading his butter and jam, breaking his yolks with the curve of his spoon. Breakfast was perfect, as always, and Clark could never quite figure out how his wife found the time to make all of this.

Every single day.



*


"C'mon, Clark." Lois said, scooping up her purse, "We'll be late for work."

Clark smiled right behind her, picking up his suit jacket from the hook. "Lois, we're never late."

She turned around and smiled, her fingers adjusting his tie. "Well, that's because you speed the whole way."

"Only because you make us late." Clark smiled, playfully.

He scooted around her, his arms surrounding her body, each hand planted on either side of the kitchen counter. "Of course, being late doesn't seem too big a deal." He bent to kiss her neck.

Lois smiled, patting him on the cheek. "Very funny, Big Guy."

She escaped underneath his arms, "C'mon, the office is waiting."

Clark sighed, following her out the door. "Lois, don't you think it would be more fun if we stayed home today? I mean, nothing ever happens here. I'm sure the Daily Star will survive without us writing the Honorable Mentions column for one day."

Lois spun around. "Clark, we can't just not show up for work." She blinked. "What will the editor print in place of our column?"

Clark laughed, "Oh, I don't know. Real news?" He opened the driver side door and slid in.

Lois followed.

The neighborhood Clark and Lois lived in was quaint and modest, just outside of town and close enough to Clark's parent's house. There were white picket fences around every yard, flowerboxes in every window. And a nice shady oak to cover every car that sparkled with fresh dew.

The red sun shone on everything, a pink shade cast filtering through the air.

"Nothing ever happens in this town." Clark sighed, turning the key.

Lois looked, "What are you talking about? They just opened that new coffee shop--"

"No, no--" Clark backed out of the drive way.

Next door, their neighbor was out watering his grass.

Clark politely waved. "I mean, nothing exciting ever happens here. There isn't any breaking news, no crime--"

"Crime?" Lois exclaimed, "Clark, you're talking like you want to live in Metropolis."

He shrugged, "Well, maybe I do."

Lois laughed, patting his shoulder, "Clark, I think you've been reading too far into things. Smallville is perfect in everyway. Why would you ever want to leave?"

"I don't I just--," Clark frowned, "It's just that, no one needs help here. And I've always had this feeling that I was meant to do something more. To help people. And here, well, no one needs my help." Clark sighed, "No one needs, me."

"I need you." Her hand crept into his, and Clark held it, refreshed by Lois' rare affection.

He looked into her eyes and smiled, shaking his head and all those stubborn thoughts that rose to mind on an off day like this.

Maybe he was thinking too far into things. Smallville was perfect. His wife, Lois, was perfect.

His life was, perfect.


*

The Daily Star was a four story building in the middle of downtown, a cluster of the busiest traffic on Main St.

There was a set of glass double doors in the newspaper building's entry, doors that were wiped squeaky clean every morning by the upkeepers. The same keepers that shined the silver star, and the bold lettering over the awning.

Clark held the door for Lois, and followed her in with a smile.
Inside their editor, George Taylor, was sitting on the edge of his desk, indulging on a
nice round donut.

"Kents!" Taylor, an older man with peppered brown hair slid off the desk, rubbing the powered sugar off his mustache. "Just the two I was looking for."

Clark matched Taylor's smile, sitting his leather briefcase ontop of his desk.

"Hiya, Chief." Lois straightened her name plate, setting her purse inside one of her desk drawers.

"The mayor's holding a opening ceremony for that new coffee shop on the corner this morning at ten."

Surreptiously, Clark spied a knowing look at his wife.

Lois ignored it, staying chipper. "Great, Chief! We're on it!"

"That's what I want to hear!" Taylor snapped his fingers and winked at them both.

Clark watched as their editor began to depart for the remainer of donuts on his desk.

Clark jumped up at the split of a decision. "Chief, wait."

Taylor turned around.

Lois stopped her typing, and cast a look up.

Quietly, the entire office stopped.

Clark looked around at the other reporters and secretaries.

One by one, the slowly resumed their work.

Clark blinked, curiously walking closer to Taylor to whisper, "You know how you told me that thinking ahead was the key to a great reporter?"

Taylor nodded with mild suspicion.

"Well Chief, I was thinking," Clark swallowed, wringing his hands, "What if the Daily Star had a column written from abroad? You know, a place where we could write about other worlds outside our own?"

George Taylor, a usually bright, funny man stood pale faced for a moment before his charm and smile caught up with him. "Kent," he patted Clark's back and then chuckled, "You know Harvey covers the news relay. We already print world wide headlines in the International section."

"I know, but this is different. Those stories are just reprinted." Clark's eyes brightened.
"What if we sent one of our own outside of the city to write a fresh new angle on the news, news that happens outside of Smallville."

"Outside of Smallville?" Taylor smiled again, grabbing a white powder donut. He took a bite.

Clark's hopeful smile faded.

"Why would anyone want to leave Smallville?" Taylor mumbled between munches, patting Clark's shoulder again, and left.

Clark sighed, brushing white sugar off his dark suit.


.


In the afternoons, after paragraphs were sewn and pasted together, headlines drawn and the day was over, Clark often retreated to the windmill on the back of his parent's farm where he visited his mother most days.

Tonight his bestfriend was beside him, sharing a cold beer as they reminisced about the good old days.

Pete Ross and Clark Kent were inseperable all throughout their school years. They both made letterman on the school football and baseball teams, competed in the debate club and were running mates for student council.

But Clark's favorite pasttime together was working at the school paper, The Torch.

They spent so many nights there, so many good memories...

He remembered their old editor.

"I wonder what Chloe's doing." Clark said, swishing the dark brown bottle to his lips.

"Chloe?" Pete sipped bitterly and then peered over, "Chloe Sullivan?"

"Yeah," Clark smiled, watching as the red sun slowly disappeared beneath the thick tree tops that populated the mountain ridge in the distance.

"I haven't heard you talk about her in years."

Clark winced, looking at Pete through a lowered brow. "Just because I don't talk about her doesn't mean I don't think about her."

"Yeah well," Pete opened another bottle and said very carefully, "I wouldn't think too hard. She's gone, man."

Clark laughed, "She's not gone, Pete. She only moved to Metropolis."

Pete's forehead creased with thought, his dark brows knitted together. "Careful Clark, you married her cousin, remember?"

Clark laughed again. "Relax, Pete. I was just wondering how an old friend was doing. We haven't seen her in years is all."

Pete nodded, his feet dangling off the edge of the windmill's platform.

They were up high.

Pete looked over to his friend, never sure of what exactly was running through Clark's mind. The guy was mysterious, even to him, the friend who had known him forever.

But he could guess what Clark's mind was after. It was the way his blue eyes stared straight into the sun, staring right through the impossible ridge of earth that soared high in the distance.

Clark was looking past Smallville, and into what was beyond it.

"Remember what Icarus taught us." Pete said quietly.

Clark blinked, the intensity gone. Slowly his eyes fell to the earth beneath them, reminding him just how high they were.

The sun made its last descent, the sky falling with it, stars poking through the crimson clouds.

A late wind picked up the bangs from Clark's forehead, his eyes sneaking up to where the moon crept into the sky.

It shone down on them, hovering like a spotlight. The image of the moon always reminded him of that poem his father had read him once when he was little.

A man in the moon.

For some reason it resonated with him. Perhaps the adventure or just the plain possiblity that a man could leave this small town, and be somewhere else.

Clark always wondered, if he could get there too? Could be the man who watched over everyone?

Would he ever leave Smallville?

Clark blinked, leaning back on his elbows to gaze.

Slowly, the moon made its pass over the night sky, and eventually Pete and Clark climbed down the windmill and went home to their wives, and eventually they fell asleep until the next day.


.

But the man on the moon didn't sleep.

His eyes were wide open, trained on the wide array of monitors across a vast wall. In those monitors were Clark Kent. Asleep, and dreaming.

But of what?

"Mr. Luthor."

A voice stirred him, his fingers caressing the smooth crown of his head. "What is it?"

"The crews are experiencing technical issues. We wont be ready for sunrise for another three hours."

"Late sunrise again?" Luthor growled, "This makes twice in the same week!"

"I apologize, but the radiation filters have been malfunctioning ever since the fire ball incident."

Lex sighed heavily, shutting his eyes. "Tell the production crews to set the clocks back again. And inform the cast of the long night. I don't want another repeat of the confusion last time. We had school children wandering the streets in pitch night."

"Yes sir." The assistant bowed, and left the room.

Lex turned to the monitors again, his fingers caressing the screen. "Sleep well, Kal-El. Sunrise will be here soon enough."

His suit was backlit against the bright LCD's of a thousand screens. There was one point of the observatory where Lex Luthor could perch and peer from a real window and monitor the world... an unordinary world.

His world.

There, Lex's pale face emerged from the surface of the false moon, the same that suspended far in the sky that blanketed the little world named Smallville.


*



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