You Too Can Be A Hero Novels & Stories

“I am not a weapon, I am not a liar. I am a doctor who ran toward people and save them when others ran away, i saved lives because that is my job and not because I belong to one side.” The silence in the studio was strong . “I know you are angry,” she continued. “I know the world feels broken, I have seen that brokenness up close and i have held it in my hands.” Her fingers trembled slightly. “But turning each other into enemies will not fix it. Turning one person into a target will not heal anything.” She leaned forward. “I am not your hero,” she said. “And I am not your villain, i am a human just like you.” Outside, the voice of the crowd changed even through thick walls, they could hear i

"I want to write about your present. About what you're doing here." "Why me?" I asked, fidgeting with my coffee cup. "Because you're proof that our worst moments don't define us. That we can choose to use our pain to help others," Rebecca explained, her tone earnest. "I'm not a hero," I protested, shaking my head. "No. You're something better," she said with a warm smile. For the next hour, I told her about the families I'd helped, the programs I'd developed, and the difference one person could make when they refused to give up.

In my last life, he had fanned the flames to the point that I had no way to defend myself and could only take all of the abuse. I could not hold myself back and tagged Victor directly in the group chat: [@VictorBrown When and where did you see me holding a woman's clothes and doing something with them? If you can't answer, that's defamation. I can sue you for that.] The group chat went quiet for a while, and I sent several more messages, one after another: [Also, who decided that I had to donate blood?] [This is my blood. I have the right not to donate. If you think refusing to donate blood means taking advantage of someone in crisis, then you go donate.]

"It's their strength. The first requirement of being a hero isn’t being right. It’s being strong. That’s why the hero always wins.” "As crude as it may be to say that, what made your father a hero wasn't his lofty but naive ideal, neither was it his gentleness. But it was his strength. No matter what, no matter how, there was only one truth. Your father was the strongest and as such he was the representative of Justice. This is the sad truth of this world."

"Please don't hurt me!" "Don't worry, I will not," he replied. "I'm here for an important reason." "What is it?" I halted and grasped the straps of my backpack. "Do you want to be a hero? Do you want to help those innocent people from the bad ones who are oppressing them?" He inquired. Hero? Can I protect others from the bad guys? "Are you joking?" "Do I look like I'm joking?" He stared at me, and I saw the seriousness in his eyes. He opened his palm and ordered, "Look at this. This is the power that I'm going to give you."

“You are too young to understand the true potential of what adults can do.” “He took from you, please don’t take from me. Superheroes are selfless, they are above revenge.” He does something I’m not expecting, he places my hand in his. “Like I said, I’m no superhero.” “Yes you are, to me you are. You won’t need to heal me anymore because losing him will kill me.”

He promised he would take me there whenever I wanted. "Hey," the sweetest little voice snapped. It was her, the angel that blessed this earth. There was a boy standing over her and they were both occupied with something on the ground. I doubt they knew each other, much less were related. One held a look of pure devastation and sadness while the other had painted on a cruel smile that I hated. I only managed to catch the last end of her sentence. She said something with the word mean, was that boy being mean to her? What exactly did he say something? Those were very valid and reasonable questions to ask, but I decided to charge ahead without asking myself any of these questions. That would be

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive today." "I wouldn't have been able to follow my dream." "I wouldn't have been able to meet your son." "You must be proud." "I'm sure you are." "Proud of your children." "Proud of your wife." "But mostly, I hope you're proud of yourself." "You were laid down and buried as a hero." "A human being who was true to himself." "One who was not afraid to sacrifice their life to make sure another continued." "What you did for me, and thousands." "Every single day."

she continues "Don't try and be some super hero, for your own good. Just so you know, whatever you do, I'll know" What?

“Better than perfect. Who can live up to that?” He threaded his fingers through his hair in agitation. “You’re expected to do something heroic every time you turn around. Kitten up a tree on your block? Call the hero, he’ll get it down. Backed-up toilet? Why, we’ve got a hero down the street. He’ll take care of it. Then you do something maybe not so heroic, like, oh, I don’t know, let the grass get too high, or drink too much, or don’t wash the car or paint the house when it needs it. Then, instead of just being a normal person, you’re a disappointment to all those people who thought you were a hero and expected you to be perfect and heroic every damn day for the rest of your damn, stinking