His Confidant

"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy."

"Who said that?"

"I don't know; Fate, probably."

                         WE WERE CHILDREN when he first wanted to change the world. Innocence and eagerness for life was still visible in his doe eyes then. We were playing by a tree near our homes when he told me his dream for the first time. I watched him swing from a branch as he said, "When I grow up, I'll help make the world a better place."

                         HE IS SIXTEEN when he finds himself helping the world in the most unexpected way possible. Citizens on the streets cheer him on while a breathless woman holds on to him for dear life. When he had brought her down to safety, he found himself saying, "All I did was save her. Who wouldn't do the same?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him, "A lot."

                         I AM TWENTY when I start to see his name flashing across the TV screens. He has since ventured far from our home, travelling from city to city where people needed him most. I can only imagine how tiring it must be, the life of a hero. "What about those he couldn't save?" I found myself asking, one day.

                         AT THIRTY YEARS OLD, he has survived a lot of missions, a lot of fights. A day never goes by that he doesn't cross my mind. From the outside, his walls are strong. But through the TV, I can already see that the light is fading from his eyes. "I do it because I want to make the world a better place for us all," he says to a reporter.

                         TWO YEARS LATER, the ugliness of the world had finally gotten to him. He is alive, but deep inside, there is already a grave for the person he used to be. Only two people mourned: me and the person he is now. "The light inside has gone out, hasn't it?" I ask him through the phone, one day. He doesn't give me an answer.

I can only listen to the quiet as I think, Silence means yes.

                         WE ARE FORTY when he finally comes home, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. He is resigned and carries battle wounds when he knocks on my door. It is only now, after all those years, that he finally realizes it, while I stitch up his torn seams.

"I don't understand. I did all that I could and yet, the world's still no better than it was. It's just as ugly as before."

I reply, "The world can never be a beautiful place, but it will always be worth fighting for. And that's what matters, how brave you were when you fought for it, all those years."

And it was in that moment that I swore I saw the faintest gleam of light return to his eyes.

Author's Note

This was written on my phone past midnight so don't be afraid to point out any mistakes! This is also the very first short story I've posted in this website. Feedback is appreciated!

Reviews

[Addict With a Pen]

Absolutely beautiful. And the format is incredible. I read this over and over and the line I just can't let go of is this:
"The world can never be a beautiful place, but it will always be worth fighting for"
Such an impacting line placed in such an amazing story. I'm glad you created this story based off of a quote. This way the write knows what's going to happen, but It's not the plot that hooks you, It's the beautiful lines of writing at the end.