Writing Prompt: Day 163

163.jpgDay 163 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about an unlikely hero.

Erin: A baby saved my life. When I was running to my job one morning I was stopped dead in my tracks right before I stepped into the road. Her cry locked me to the car before I would have run right in front of the semi that would have plowed me over. I would have been startled had I not been so concerned by the distressed child. Without a second thought I took off my heels and cracked the window open. I had no choice, that sweet overheating face saved me and I needed to save her.

Shannon: “Now that’s a sight you don’t see everyday,” I heard Jake’s voice creeping up behind me. I cursed under my breath. He was the class clown and I was giving him material he could use for a lifetime. I prayed he was alone as I turned around, with a huge hallway poster wrapped around my body like a dress.

I was taking a shower after this morning’s practice and the other girls on the team left me without any clothes. They were always out to get me. I guess they finally won. Luckily he was the only standing there. “Go head, I know you’ve got some clever joke. Get it over with, take a picture, and humiliate me more. I don’t care. They’re not going to make me quit, even if they hate me,” I looked down, trying to believe myself and muster up the courage to head to administrative office.

“Who took your clothes,” he questioned getting a little closer. I backed against the wall afraid he’d take my only shield away. He looked concerned. I’d never seen him wear that emotion.

“As far as I can tell the whole dance team,” I shrugged, gripping the paper tighter against my chest. “What are you going to go find them and praise their work,” I questioned, not knowing why I was so mad at him. He didn’t do anything, not yet.

“No, I know the difference between a joke and harassment. They’re jerks and I tend to focus my humor on those who deserve it. I consider it my own brand of karma,” he smiled. “Go back to the locker room, I’ll get you some clothes.”

I couldn’t understand why he was being nice to me. It seemed out of character. “How do I know it’s not a trick?”

“Here,” he took off his coat and a sweater he was wearing over a t-shirt then handed them to me. “They’re not much but they’re better than a poster, right,” he smirked.

What makes your character a hero?

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