The story you will not find in a bookstore
Once upon a time there was a boy named Spencer. Spencer lived in a middle class home with his two parents. Spencer had no super powers whatsoever, unless you would count the fact that later he would discover he was exceptionally good at listening to people and making them feel appreciated.
One morning Spencer woke up in his nice warm bed, got dressed, and went downstairs. His mother served him a nutritious breakfast and made sure his lunch was packed. His father drove him to school, where he was taught by a teacher who was a fairly decent human being who tried to help Spencer do the best he could. She had no powers and was not cruel in the least. At recess, he played with his friends.
After school, he went home where his mother gave him a snack and made him do his homework and practice the trumpet. His father came home and they had a nutritious, well-cooked dinner. Spencer ate his vegetables and had a brownies because of it.
They went to soccer, and nothing attacked him for the entire game, unless you count the one kid who shoved. Afterwards, he went home, had a bath, and went to bed in his warm bed in his warm home. His mother tucked him in.
Lots of monsters saw Spencer that day. One saw him at soccer, but recognized his parents as people who did not mess around with regards to their son’s safety, and didn’t cross the street to introduce himself. Another was pulled over by the police for weaving before he ran into the family minivan, and arrested for DUI. Yet a third thought about Spencer’s country, and the damage he would like to inflict, but he was thousands of miles away and afraid of the military.
There were monsters that had never gotten started, like the one who would have put garbage stuff into Spencer’s family’s food, or toxic crap in their water.
There were monsters that his parents had earlier cut out of their lives for being jerks.
Spencer thought his older sister was a monster, but he was wrong. She was just a teenage girl who liked to read about monsters.