The Hero

SHE elbowed her way to get to the center of attraction. She did not mind the eyes that glared at her, and her boyfriend who was probably stuck behind. All that mattered was for her to reach her goal. Like the rest of the crowd, she was there to see him – the mysterious flying guy who saved a crashing airplane; the guy who saved lives during a flood in some parts of the country. She admired the guy, admired him so much that her boyfriend started to become jealous. And now there he was – in person.

Just an hour earlier she witnessed how he fought the monstrous thing that appeared out of nowhere and unleashed havoc in the city. The guy was to destroy the creature but suffered serious injuries which caused him to collapse in the middle of the street and become the public’s center of attention.

She saw him. He was kneeling on the concrete road and was vomiting blood. A gaping wound in his chest was spilling blood. there were deep cuts on his extremities and on his head. Though his mask came off she could not see his face, for it was covered by his hair matted with dried blood. He was coughing. People and the media with their cameras and mics on the ready approached but he warded them off with his bloody hand. Two cops were there but they did not touch him. Instead they were clearing the crowd away from him.

“Give the guy a break will you?! He’s a hero for God’s sake!” one of the cops barked at the curious crowd.

Then he looked up. His gloomy eyes found her; stared at her as if he knew her. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Then she realized why he looked at her that way. She knew him. A year ago there was this guy on her Facebook that always liked her posts and sometimes messaged her in her chat box but she just ignored him. He was not worth the attention but now all of that changed.

“David,” she called to him.

He stood up with trembling legs. The cops tried to help him but he refused. He turned his back from her and started to walk away; the cops clearing his way.

“David!” she called to him again.

He stopped and looked back at her. He stared coldly at her for a moment and then shot up to the air. Streaks of his blood hit her face.


That night she visited his Facebook. She felt a thrill when she saw that he was online.

“Hi,” was her message.

No reply.

“How are you?” she typed.

Still no reply.

“Are you all right?” she insisted.


“I hope you’re okay,” she pursued.

“Since when did you give a damn?” was his sudden reply, and went offline before she could type a reply.

She felt a tinge of guilt. He was just doing what she did to him. Ignoring her.

She checked his wall. “Now you know so you give a damn? No thank you,” was his post on his wall.

A tear fell from her eye. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Minutes later his Facebook account no longer existed. But before that she saw a message in her inbox. It was from him saying he was sorry and that he understood her. She was happy. But she could no longer keep in touch with him. She still saw and heard him on the news doing heroic deeds. She hoped that one day she’d meet him again.


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