My Son My Hero Novels & Stories

I immediately hear them start a serious discussion about me, doesn't even wait to make sure I am gone. "He acts incredibly calm for a king that plans to sacrifice his life to save those of his people." Mother comments, trying to sound proud but her voice comes out strained with emotional pain. "Sometimes true heroes are the ones that smile through silent pain, cry behind closed doors and fight battles no one knows about." I hear Griffin reply, sounding honestly proud. "Yes, our son is inhumanly perfect, he is unlike me in every way." My father painfully mutters. I walk away to spare my ears from his raving. He kind of loves ranting about his mistakes and I am tired of listening.

Jovie was rather displeased by the other children's teasing, and she retorted, "Nonsense! My Dad isn't a pig! He's a hero and the best bodyguard in the whole world! He's a superhero!" A little boy, sitting in the second row and dressed in a tailored suit, stood up with a smug look and gave Jovie a once-over. "You say your Dad is a hero? I've never heard anything more stupid! He's just a bodyguard! How can he possibly be a superhero? Don't be stupid; your Dad is just a pig and a useless scum! There's nothing to be proud of! In fact, I'm feeling very embarrassed for you!"

At just five years old, he had grown too big for his age. He understood so much more than I wanted him to, and I realized I couldn’t hide the truth about his father forever. “It’s about the men who saved us. They are my heroes, Mommy, and I want to be like them when I grow up.” Tears welled in my eyes at his earnest declaration. Blood, they say, is thicker than water, and today, that quote resonated deep within me. He was so innocent, yet so aware of the danger lurking around us.

“If you want to save Mommy, then strike the enemy. Who wants her dead? The Mafia. So beat them, Daddy! What’s the difference between them and Louise or Camille if we don’t have a plan?” “H-hey, Zayne, this isn’t the time for games!” Hero scolded, making the boy glare at him. “What if I kick you out instead, Uncle Hero?” Hero swallowed hard at the threat and went quiet. Zekiel, however, couldn’t believe what his son was saying—but then he remembered how intelligent the boy was, especially with his royal blood. All he needed to do was guide and support him. Zekiel broke free from Dylan and Hero’s hold and faced Zayne seriously.

"Bro, shut up. I'm in." "Really? Oh, thank you..." "Not for you or the fucking plan. For Hero." If I can't do this for my son, then at least I can fucking do it for my nephew.

I nodded, she looked me over and covered me up with a blanket, she gave me a serious look, “Have you ever seen that man before?” I nodded as I could feel the tears begin to flow in my eyes again , “Yes there’s a warrant out for his arrest for hurting me in the past, he's my ex boyfriend and the father of my son.” That’s when it dawned on me, I remembered they were looking for him and I was hiding somewhere. More was coming back to me in pieces but I couldn’t remember everything. Just then our room was swamped with security guards and other staff members. I seen my father and Steve come running in past the security guards.

I’m not sure if it will work, but it’s all I got. I don’t think I would be able to give Tony up, if I allowed him in. I don’t want to hurt him, Sharon or get hurt myself, but I’m at a crossroads and I don’t know which way to turn. Sharon is my best friend who suggested I go down this path but we didn’t expect it would lead me to her own son.

I replied. “OK, I guess he was a superhero then,” he replied. ‘Yes, he's a hero. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't ever have had you, my sweety,’ I said in my thoughts. “Mommy was he not?” he asked, noticing my silence. "He was sweetie, your grandfather was a hero, a very big superhero, OK," I said, holding back tears. “Woah I'm also going to be like him and daddy.”

NICHOLAS (Age 16, 4 years ago) The picture frame of our family that hung on the wall fell down the floor with a loud crash that caused the glass to shatter and scatter across the floor where my mom laid, her arms curled protectively against her middle as she cried. Her nose was broken, I could tell from the way the blood was gushing out. She had several cuts all over her face and lips. I looked up to see the figure that loomed over her, breathing heavily as he towered above my mom's small frame, the man that is my father, Jack.

They no longer had that power. When my son called, I went to him. Behind me lay a door I had closed for good. Before me stood my son in the evening light, holding out the life we had grown together. When my son called, I went to him. I did not look back.