The Hero (part I)

The beast stared into my eyes. Red eyes, glowering with the pangs of hunger. And violence. And savagery.

I could do nothing. I was with my back against the oak trunk. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. My sword was not in my scabbard. My hunting knife look like a paper cutter in my hands, not to talk of the beast in front of me.

I thought of my mother. She used to feed me rice and curd with her hand. I loved food best when it was from her hands. She was a great cook, a great mother. I loved her.

I thought of my father. He, was a man. He, was my hero. The way he'd tell me tales of the dark forests and how he won my mother's heart by saving her in some part of them. Every son loves his father. Every son wanted to be half the man his father was. I was no different.

The animal... no, half-man, half-animal, took a step forward. Claws flexing, teeth baring.

I could feel drums in my head. Maybe someone coming to save me! That would be most welcome!

But no. It's just my blood rushing through my ears. Throbbing. Pulsating. Electrifying.

Scary.

I always thought I'd be a hero when I'm in a fix.

I was wrong. This is no fairy tale. The damsel in distress is me. There is no knight in shining armour to save me. There are no heroes.

- Vinaykrishnan.