For a brief moment in time, they were invincible. They glowed with energy. They floated an inch off the ground. They hummed. Their bodies lunged about the room with precise focused movements. They punched air, spun in a circle and kicked invisible enemies, and they roared. They roared the shrill battle cry of children given too much strength and too much purpose at such a young age.

I met them as they hovered to the top of the stairs, their sharp eyes flickering like the flame of a candle. I was terrified.

“Who are you?” I asked the youngest.

From behind a pair of clenched fists, she announced, “I am Star Girl!”

“And I-” said her older sister behind her, with a thrust of her knee, “-am The Light Lady!”

My eyes grew wide, and I pressed myself against the wall to let them pass. My hair stood on end as they stepped into their bedroom without even glancing towards me.

That night their bedroom glowed with a secret energy. Red and blue lights softly mixing into purple on the hallway wall. Odd shapes rippling through the waves of color as bodies rolled over in their sleep. But every hour the colors faded and faded and faded. By morning the magic was lost.

A young girl stumbled down a ladder in her pajamas. A tangled nest of hair on her head tied together with dark colored straws. Behind her, another head peeked over the side of the mattress, with it a pair of twinkling eyes, but no evidence of stars remaining. The two girls yawned in unison.

“Good morning, saviors of justice. How goes the crime fighting?”

The first little girl reached up and pulled a red straw from her tangled headband and looked at it confused. “Is there any breakfast?”

I laughed, “That’s not a very good catchphrase.”

She frowned and slugged me in the arm, but her strength was weak, and it barely hurt at all. I tilted my head back towards the ceiling and laughed, a long cackling laugh.