HERO

A Story by Ceara

What is a hero, really? A slight look into the minds of Hazel and Jamie as they struggle to survive another day.

Hazel knew what a hero was.

She'd grown up watching all the best examples of the word, from the sleek-and-shiny new action stars to the older TV shows, complete with poor dialogue and plastic swords. She'd watch superheroes win with their brute strength, sci-fi masters taking out all the bad guys with smooth words and cool explosions. Heroes were the best of the best, ever brave, and always ready to win. That was the thing about heroes; they always won.

Hazel was not a hero.

Hazel was a girl in her late teens, definitely way too out of shape to do a backflip or even try to fit into a tight spy suit. The most exercise she did was walking around the house; the bravest thing she'd done recently was go outside in a storm to mess with the fuse box. She was lazy, and worse, cowardly. There was no such thing as a hero who ran away from a fight. Her asthma was awful, her people skills atrocious, and she could barely stand to open the window to let in daylight. It made her eyes sting.

There was nothing cool about Hazel, nothing too mysterious or powerful. People avoided her; she avoided them. She was more than happy to let other people fight their own battles. Her world was her TV screen, flickering with all the voices and scenery she'd ever need.