Post by Empy on Mar 12, 2008 16:57:13 GMT -5
Okay, I'm submitting this for a literary arts magazine at my school but I really would like suggestions on things I could change ^^; If you read my last 'Facets' piece, you'll see a few similarities 
I won't cry. I promise So... read? I'll love you forevers! Also, I need help on coming up with a title xDD
Jon had always wanted to be a hero. Superman was his favorite, but Spiderman was a close second. At the age of six, he’d run out every morning in his Superman costume, to jump on the trampoline and pretend he could fly. When he was 10, he began to think that his latent super powers weren’t coming after all. When he was 13, Jon gave up his dream of becoming a spandex-clad demigod in favor of girls and sports... and more girls. But he still held the hope that he could become a hero to someone.
It was when he was 17 that Jon became interested in enlisting. His parents never wanted him to do anything dangerous. His mom wanted him to be a lawyer while his dad claimed he would be perfect for micro-financing. Neither of those appealed to Jon, however, and his appalling grades in math made him doubt financing was ever in his future. No, he still wanted to be a hero and somehow, the army would let him become one. He had heard the stories from old war time veterans, seen all the movies, read all the books. It was what he wanted and in the end, his parents surrendered. After high school, Jon enlisted into the army.
Two years of training followed, filled with sore muscles, early wake-up calls, good friends, and bad food. He had gotten used to the Army way of life but when the announcement came that they would be deployed, his heart nearly stopped. Now was the time to prove himself, to be what he had always wanted. Later, as he crouched behind the remains of a wall with a gun clutched in his hands, Jon would only think ‘What am I doing here? What was I thinking?’ as the ground shook and shots rang out in the air. After he had shot his first insurgent, Jon’s buddies cheered and clapped him on the back.
“You’re a hero, bro!” they said as they left the scene. But when Jon remembered the man’s face as he shot him, he shuddered. He did not feel like a hero.
Even after three months Jon couldn't get used to being home. He could wake up whenever he wanted, cook and eat food that he wanted to eat, and see his family. His mom had cried when she saw him. Jon wasn’t sure if it was because she was happy to see him or because of his arm. He had gotten used to the stares a long time ago and people asking him how it happened. Sometimes he would joke that one day it just walked off and other times he just couldn’t say anything. Later he went and talked about his experience at his old high school. Some boy, a jokester probably, raised his hand with exaggerated exuberance and asked with a giggle,
“Did'ja kill anyone?”
“Yes.” The boy fell silent at that.
Was he a hero? Jon wondered to himself as he pored over the colorful merchandise of his local store. He didn’t really feel like a hero which was what he wanted for his whole life. He had done things that he wasn’t proud of when he was in the war. He felt like a sinner, and unworthy of all the respect and accolades his community now showered upon him. They kept calling him a hero, kept looking at the medals that adorned his chest and thought they knew what he had been through. They thought they understood him but none of them did.
One package caught his eye, a bar of soap that proclaimed it would “Wash your sins away!” Jon picked it up, smiling a little at the nun on the wrapper and the audacity of the idea. It was ludicrous to think a bar imbued with “holy water” could do anything but maybe make you smell nice. He gave the bar a sniff. It was minty and he rather liked it.
“Can I help you, sir?” an employee asked as she approached him. She was bent on making a sale, he could see.
“Hmmm? No, thank you. I’m fine.” Jon said, inching away from the exuberant clerk. “I’ll just… take this bar of soap, I guess.” He said holding up the little square as if in offering. The young woman snatched it out of his hand and set off for the cash register as she called over her shoulder,
“Splendid! I’ll ring that up for you, then!”
As Jon left the store, he looked at the little piece of soap he had just wasted three dollars on. He knew it didn’t do anything but as he put it in his pocket, he thought to himself, ‘it’s nice to have it. Just in case.’
I won't cry. I promise So... read? I'll love you forevers! Also, I need help on coming up with a title xDDJon had always wanted to be a hero. Superman was his favorite, but Spiderman was a close second. At the age of six, he’d run out every morning in his Superman costume, to jump on the trampoline and pretend he could fly. When he was 10, he began to think that his latent super powers weren’t coming after all. When he was 13, Jon gave up his dream of becoming a spandex-clad demigod in favor of girls and sports... and more girls. But he still held the hope that he could become a hero to someone.
It was when he was 17 that Jon became interested in enlisting. His parents never wanted him to do anything dangerous. His mom wanted him to be a lawyer while his dad claimed he would be perfect for micro-financing. Neither of those appealed to Jon, however, and his appalling grades in math made him doubt financing was ever in his future. No, he still wanted to be a hero and somehow, the army would let him become one. He had heard the stories from old war time veterans, seen all the movies, read all the books. It was what he wanted and in the end, his parents surrendered. After high school, Jon enlisted into the army.
Two years of training followed, filled with sore muscles, early wake-up calls, good friends, and bad food. He had gotten used to the Army way of life but when the announcement came that they would be deployed, his heart nearly stopped. Now was the time to prove himself, to be what he had always wanted. Later, as he crouched behind the remains of a wall with a gun clutched in his hands, Jon would only think ‘What am I doing here? What was I thinking?’ as the ground shook and shots rang out in the air. After he had shot his first insurgent, Jon’s buddies cheered and clapped him on the back.
“You’re a hero, bro!” they said as they left the scene. But when Jon remembered the man’s face as he shot him, he shuddered. He did not feel like a hero.
Even after three months Jon couldn't get used to being home. He could wake up whenever he wanted, cook and eat food that he wanted to eat, and see his family. His mom had cried when she saw him. Jon wasn’t sure if it was because she was happy to see him or because of his arm. He had gotten used to the stares a long time ago and people asking him how it happened. Sometimes he would joke that one day it just walked off and other times he just couldn’t say anything. Later he went and talked about his experience at his old high school. Some boy, a jokester probably, raised his hand with exaggerated exuberance and asked with a giggle,
“Did'ja kill anyone?”
“Yes.” The boy fell silent at that.
Was he a hero? Jon wondered to himself as he pored over the colorful merchandise of his local store. He didn’t really feel like a hero which was what he wanted for his whole life. He had done things that he wasn’t proud of when he was in the war. He felt like a sinner, and unworthy of all the respect and accolades his community now showered upon him. They kept calling him a hero, kept looking at the medals that adorned his chest and thought they knew what he had been through. They thought they understood him but none of them did.
One package caught his eye, a bar of soap that proclaimed it would “Wash your sins away!” Jon picked it up, smiling a little at the nun on the wrapper and the audacity of the idea. It was ludicrous to think a bar imbued with “holy water” could do anything but maybe make you smell nice. He gave the bar a sniff. It was minty and he rather liked it.
“Can I help you, sir?” an employee asked as she approached him. She was bent on making a sale, he could see.
“Hmmm? No, thank you. I’m fine.” Jon said, inching away from the exuberant clerk. “I’ll just… take this bar of soap, I guess.” He said holding up the little square as if in offering. The young woman snatched it out of his hand and set off for the cash register as she called over her shoulder,
“Splendid! I’ll ring that up for you, then!”
As Jon left the store, he looked at the little piece of soap he had just wasted three dollars on. He knew it didn’t do anything but as he put it in his pocket, he thought to himself, ‘it’s nice to have it. Just in case.’
