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The Pages of A "Hero's" Diary

Novel By: Rajarshi
Thrillers



Inside us all, there is an Angelo. A desire to be a hero. These are the pages of his diary. A boy, who took his level of sanity and went on the streets to change them. A desire to be a "superhero" he accomplished. A hero with a face. A hero they never wanted, but more than that they deserved. And he is out to change this world. Will he succeed? To know more about his plans and his life, let's read through his memoirs. View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4

Submitted:Feb 20, 2012    Reads: 9    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


7th March, 1960

It all began 20 years ago. It started with a girl, it's always a girl, this time the girl was my mother. To tell you it was a funny story. I was rich, but didn't have a father. My mother took care of me. She was a good girl. When I was 10, she died. The funny part is she died saving a white dove. From that day, I started seeing the funny side of life.

Two years later, the world was longing for peace. I was sitting in my class, looking outside the window. The teacher babbling all around, and then I heard her question, "What is life, according to you children?" She was a nice looking teacher, one of the sweet types. Children started shouting the answer. One said, "It's a dream", another said, "It's a stage", and all the craziest answers you can think of. (And they call me crazy?!) And, from all the shouts and screams, I rose up from my seat and answered, "Life is a big joke, and everyone refuses to see the funny side of it." I don't know what the teacher felt, shocked or impressed. She asked me, "And how do you think it's a joke?"

Today, I am a feared man in the streets, the police, the mobs, the mafia and even the women are afraid of me. But, today is the day their fear is locked away behind bars. They think they are safe. They are going to lose. It doesn't matter if I am inside or outside the bars. There is no place safe in this world. It's a funny thing; how the world was similar, and didn't change even a bit. Yesterday, our beloved president, John F Kennedy, announced the departure of 35,000 US soldiers to Vietnam.

A voice comes from outside my room, "its medication time fucking lunatic". He had a shrill in his voice. He had fear. Oh! How I missed the screams of fear, it's not even a day though. The doctor came in, and asked, "Are you feeling fine now?" "Not a bit, there is nothing "fine" in this world, so how do you expect me to feel fine?" He injected me with some shitty injection; he was shaking while injecting me with it. It felt good, it made me high. The door was open and this was my only chance to get outside. To run away where I belonged, but, I did not do it.





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