The Hero

There was a boy who wanted, above all else, to be a hero. He wanted to save someone. He pined for it, pleaded for it, fiended for it. His problem was that he didn’t know how to become a hero. He exponentially gained in depression everyday he was not a hero. He saw a world that needed heroes where there was none.

 

One day opportunity struck. He noticed two men scuffling down an alleyway. Figuring it was a mugging in process, he dropped all inhibitions, all fear, all doubt, all of his past self, and inwardly became a Hero.

 

He sprung into action and darted towards the men. He leapt at the Mugger, knocking him backwards. Pinning him down, the Hero started to swing down on the Mugger’s face and body, not allowing him to speak.

 

Memories crept into the Hero’s head. He lost himself, combining the external with the internal, becoming one with the hero within, feeding off the adrenaline coursing through his body. The memories intensified, as did the beating.

 

Coming out of his trance, the Hero looked down at his work. A job well done, the Saved Man said, patting the Hero on the back. The Mugger was unrecognizable now. The Hero was happy that the Mugger would never mug again.

 

As the Hero got up and away from the lifeless body, he noticed a young girl with torn clothes about ten yards away. Is that your daughter, asked the Hero to the Saved Man.

 

No, it’s his.

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