I had a little writing exercise for one of my classes and wrote the following story as a narrative essay. I thought I would share it and see what you all thought.
The other day a civilian asked me how I enjoy my life as a hero in Paragon City. Sure, a standard response might go something along the lines of, It is one of the most rewarding positions a person can hold in a city like Paragon. There is nothing that matches the feeling of knowing I get to help people every day and that I have made the world a better and safer place. But with the population of Paragon City being what it is, also known as a city of heroes, difficulty ensues as I try to carve out a name for myself and set my accomplishments apart from the other heroes. I think the status of the hero has to be seen from behind the eyes of the individual upon whom the title is placed. Let me tell how it all started.
For the great majority of my life, I never had anything that set me apart from the average Jane. Yes, I said Jane. Its a womans country too, after all. You dont have to look at me with that kind of attitude. As I was saying, there was nothing that set me apart other than my sheer strength of will to accomplish the goals I set for myself with absolute relentlessness. I found the area this was especially true was in my martial arts training with a katana. I excelled in my fighting skill with this blade like no student my trainer had ever known, and he had seen his share of heroes come through his facility.
One night after training, I was walking home and decided to take a shortcut through an alley that would shave a good bit of time off my commute home. The horror of the scene I then encountered still sends a chill down my spine and causes my hair to stand on end. The image of the Hellion gang member stooping over his unfortunate victim with a sacrificial knife in hand is still burned into my retinas, his menace glinting in his eyes in the pale light of the moon as he turned toward the sound of my approach. The hellish pentagram scrawled around the body left no doubt as to what was happening.
Every instinct told me to turn and run as fast as I could before I shared the same fate as the figure inside that arcane symbol. In fact, I was just turning to make the dash when I heard the faintest of cries and noticed the slight movement of the figure on the ground.
It was then that the war within began. It was only a short moment, but every conviction and moral I knew raced through my head like Olympian sprinters vying for the gold medal. Do I stay and help this poor woman and risk sharing her fate, or do I turn and run in order to ensure my own survival? My martial-arts training was for self-defense only. I never had to use lethal force on another individual. If it came to it, could I kill this man, vile in every character attribute as he might be?
I cant say exactly what happened next. The only thing I know for certain is that I quickly arrived at the conclusion that I could not leave either of these creatures to the fate which would have been theirs if I had not chosen to take an alternate route home that night. The katana is a weapon used by the expert as a tool of efficiency and it was over in a few short strokes after being drawn. The light barely had time to glance from the surface of my polished blade before the man lay at my feet, knife knocked from his hand and unconscious. This Hellion was only an initiate and not nearly as dangerous as some of the other villains I have come across since that dark night in the alley. Lethal force was not necessary in order to dispatch this individual.
Before the Hellion could wake, I pulled my cell phone from my bag and called the police. I never saw the woman I rescued that night after she was placed upon a stretcher and carried away in the ambulance, lights burning seemingly with the passion and determination I felt that night to stop and prevent anything close to such villainy from every happening again. Thus my life as the hero began.
I had a little writing exercise for one of my classes and wrote the following story as a narrative essay. I thought I would share it and see what you all thought.
The other day a civilian asked me how I enjoy my life as a hero in Paragon City. Sure, a standard response might go something along the lines of, It is one of the most rewarding positions a person can hold in a city like Paragon. There is nothing that matches the feeling of knowing I get to help people every day and that I have made the world a better and safer place. But with the population of Paragon City being what it is, also known as a city of heroes, difficulty ensues as I try to carve out a name for myself and set my accomplishments apart from the other heroes. I think the status of the hero has to be seen from behind the eyes of the individual upon whom the title is placed. Let me tell how it all started.
For the great majority of my life, I never had anything that set me apart from the average Jane. Yes, I said Jane. Its a womans country too, after all. You dont have to look at me with that kind of attitude. As I was saying, there was nothing that set me apart other than my sheer strength of will to accomplish the goals I set for myself with absolute relentlessness. I found the area this was especially true was in my martial arts training with a katana. I excelled in my fighting skill with this blade like no student my trainer had ever known, and he had seen his share of heroes come through his facility.
One night after training, I was walking home and decided to take a shortcut through an alley that would shave a good bit of time off my commute home. The horror of the scene I then encountered still sends a chill down my spine and causes my hair to stand on end. The image of the Hellion gang member stooping over his unfortunate victim with a sacrificial knife in hand is still burned into my retinas, his menace glinting in his eyes in the pale light of the moon as he turned toward the sound of my approach. The hellish pentagram scrawled around the body left no doubt as to what was happening.
Every instinct told me to turn and run as fast as I could before I shared the same fate as the figure inside that arcane symbol. In fact, I was just turning to make the dash when I heard the faintest of cries and noticed the slight movement of the figure on the ground.
It was then that the war within began. It was only a short moment, but every conviction and moral I knew raced through my head like Olympian sprinters vying for the gold medal. Do I stay and help this poor woman and risk sharing her fate, or do I turn and run in order to ensure my own survival? My martial-arts training was for self-defense only. I never had to use lethal force on another individual. If it came to it, could I kill this man, vile in every character attribute as he might be?
I cant say exactly what happened next. The only thing I know for certain is that I quickly arrived at the conclusion that I could not leave either of these creatures to the fate which would have been theirs if I had not chosen to take an alternate route home that night. The katana is a weapon used by the expert as a tool of efficiency and it was over in a few short strokes after being drawn. The light barely had time to glance from the surface of my polished blade before the man lay at my feet, knife knocked from his hand and unconscious. This Hellion was only an initiate and not nearly as dangerous as some of the other villains I have come across since that dark night in the alley. Lethal force was not necessary in order to dispatch this individual.
Before the Hellion could wake, I pulled my cell phone from my bag and called the police. I never saw the woman I rescued that night after she was placed upon a stretcher and carried away in the ambulance, lights burning seemingly with the passion and determination I felt that night to stop and prevent anything close to such villainy from every happening again. Thus my life as the hero began.