[ WP ] Write the superhero origin story of your username

It was an unseasonably warm day at the start of autumn. Nick and I were sitting on the back veranda of his parents house smoking joints and discussing what to with the day. 
 `` It would be wrong to waste it,'' said nick, exhaling a cloud of smoke, `` I mean if we do n't do something then we'll end up sitting here all day.'' 
 `` Is there anything wrong with that?'' I asked. 
'Not necessarily, but Mum will be home soon and you know how she is. I do n't really feel like playing twenty questions right now.'' 
 `` Yeah, that's a good point actually. I dunno, maybe we could go check out the salt marsh. Ellie was talking about it, said she had like a spiritual experience or some shit. Could be cool.'' 
 `` Yeah fuck it, I guess so. You driving?'' 
 `` Nah, let's take the bikes, man.'' 
 `` Yeah, alright. Hold up though, I want to roll another spliff.'' 
 He passed the joint to me and stood up slowly, stretching his arms and twisting his back. I took another drag, sucking the last, concentrated dregs of dope and flicked the roach over the railing. It flipped over and over in an arc and disappeared into the hedge, never to be seen again, hopefully. 
 While nick was taking care of business inside, I went around the side of the house and collected the bikes. I waited for him out the front then we took to the road, pedaling at a slow and steady rate; soaking in the suburban scenery. Box shaped houses of gray and white and brown lined the sides of the street, divided by brown wooden fences that rose to about head-height. They all looked more or less the same and reflected that if I had n't traveled this street many times I could very easily get disoriented. That got me onto thinking about memory in general, and whether my memories would exist after I died. I entertained the idea for a while and then burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. 
 Stoned musings filled my mind all the way until the end of town; to where the houses dropped away to be replaced by twisting gum trees and scratchy shrubs. We rode for another ten minutes, occasionally commenting on the sensuous shapes of the trees and the soft, rich colours that streaked their trunks. 
 In turn, the trees dropped away and we knew we were approaching the marsh. We rode until we came upon an olive green national park's sign at the foot of a winding gravel path. 
 `` Guess this is it then,' said Nick. 
 `` Yeah, I guess so.'' 
 `` Should we take the bikes?'' 
 `` Nah, leave them here I reckon. It'll be nicer walking.'' 
 We stored the bikes in the bushes, making sure they were hidden from the road, and started on down the path. The path was mostly flat, and coated with little beads of gravel that crunched beneath our shoes. Conversation was limited as we moved languidly along the path; both of us content to listen to the scattered calls of hidden birds. About ten minutes down the path we came across an old metal sign. The sign was supported by a rusted steel column and the face was covered in faded images and barely legible writing. As I stood before it noticed that the bird calls had stopped. In fact, all of the sounds of the woods had stopped, dampened as if by a wet blanket. In their place was a faint psychic drone, but it was n't a sound so much, more of a sensation, something coming from inside my head rather than outside. It swept through my mind, ethereal and ghost-like, a faint singing that sounded like a tortured lullaby. It was there for a few moments and then was gone, replaced again by the hum of insects and the whisper of wind. 
 I turned to look at Nick. `` Did you hear that?'' 
 `` What?'' He cocked one eyebrow at me. `` The birds?'' 
 `` No, that sound!'' 
 `` What sound?'' 
 `` That fucking eerie signing.'' 
 `` I do n't know what you're talking about, man.'' 
 There was a silence that hung between us for a few moments like tangible barrier as I processed what he said. 
 `` Do n't worry about it,'' I said, `` I was just wigging out a bit.'' 
 ( Sorry, writing this at work and time is up; will be continued ) 

