Journal Prompt Week 5: Hero/Villain

Animated_Two-Face_2In class, we’ve talked about the significance of narrative and story in our lives. That includes our own stories. We all have a life narrative in our heads, a story we tell ourselves about who we are and how we got to be where we are today. And in that story, for the most part, we’re the good guys. We’re the heroes of our own tales.

But we’re not always the good guys.

In this journal entry, I want you to tell me two stories about yourself. In the first one, I want you to tell me about a time you were the hero, the good guy (or girl, as it were). In the second one, tell me about a time you were the bad guy.

The second story might require some reflection on your part. It might involve thinking about some things you’re not proud of. It might involve looking at a past conflict you were part of from another person’s point of view. After all, in their story, they were the hero, and you were the villain.

For fairness, I’ll give you an example: If I were writing on this prompt, my “hero” story might be about the time I waited for the ambulance with a homeless woman who’d been clipped by a bus. My “villain” story might be about the time I switched out my living preference form without telling my would-be roommate, screwing him out of our planned living situation. Or the time, driving home from work one night, that I repeatedly flashed my high beams at some kids who were playing in the street.

Each story should be at least 100 words. Due Sunday, Sep 29 by midnight.

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30 thoughts on “Journal Prompt Week 5: Hero/Villain

  1. In my middle school, all of the hallways were super narrow and surrounded by lockers on all sides. The lockers were about three feet wide and five or six feet tall. That being said, it was extremely easy for a middle school kid to fit in their locker, although it may not always be by choice. Walking down the hallway with two of my buddies in seventh grade, I thought I was the man. It was until about ten minutes later that I realized I really was the man. There was this new student, Zach, who was from out-of-state and did’t know a sole. He had only been at school for about a week at the time this story is taking place. Zach was everything you’d look for in a typical nerd. I proceeded to go and say hello to Zach and sort of introduce myself. My friends just kept walking and wouldn’t have even given Zach the time of day. After talking to Zach for a while I felt like I got to know him pretty well. He described to me how he ended up at Shiloh Middle in Hampstead, Maryland. He was originally from Oregon and was forced to move due to his Dad’s job. I could relate because two years earlier I was in the same situation, moving from West Chester, Pennsylvania because of my Dad’s job. I invited Zach to eat lunch with myself and a few of my other friends, not the ones who walked right past him in the hallway, and I feel like my small act of kindness made Zach’s day.

    On the other hand, there have also been times where I have played the role of the villain. Many of these instances involve my two little sisters, Rachel and Jacquie, because I am the typical “mean” older brother. One instance in particular that stands out occurred last year. Rachel asked me for a ride to the movies one Friday night. I already had plans to go over a friends house so I immediately shot down her request. She started crying really badly because my parents had dinner plans and weren’t able to take her, I was her only hope and I shut her down like a monster. Looking back on it, who cares if I would have been twenty minutes late to my friends house? I prevented my little sister from going out and having a good time and I don’t think I will be able to forgive myself of that for a long time.

    Louie Copley

  2. In elementary school I used to be friends with a girl who had Alopecia Areata. Alopecia Areata is when a person’s body cannot produce any hair anywhere on their body. Elementary school, where I lived, was where you slowly created your group of friends and your personality that you would carry with you till high school and for some people college. Since she would wear a wig and it was very noticeable kids would always make fun of her and wouldn’t want to be her friend because they thought that if they played with her they would lose their hair. I knew that if I played with her I wouldn’t lose my hair and I thought she was really nice. We became friends and when kids would make fun of her I would stand up for her telling them that they were dumb or lie saying that the wig was her real hair. As the years went on her hair finally began to grow back and we grew apart but at high school graduation we sat next to each other and walked across the stage together to get our diplomas.

    In high school I was on the swim team. My swim team was made up of people who were fast, people who thought they were fast and people that were slow but were only there for the fun. My freshman year I was taken in by everyone on the team and we all got along. As the years went by the caring people left, friendships were broken, and many different people came. By my senior year everyone hated one another or were extremely jealous of the other people. At my very last meet (I didn’t know it was at the time) my relay and I were at the blocks to race for the chance to go to states. I got in swam my fastest time along with another member of my relay. The other two members of the relay did not try their hardest making us lose our chance to go to states by one spot (When I say this I am not saying it, there is timed evidence). When I realized this I mentally made it my mission to get back at them. I went up to my “coach” to start my revenge by telling her that they didn’t try on purpose to get back at me (that’s another story) but it didn’t work because they were her favorites and I was told that it was my fault because I went to slow (even though I went faster then them). A week later I went up to both of the girls and told them both how much I disliked them, how they aren’t as good as they think and accused them of purposely doing bad to get back at me since they didn’t like me for other reasons. At the end of the year I went up to my “coach” and told her things that I regret saying and not appropriate to tell a teacher/ “coach”. They are the one reason I quit swimming and came to a school that no one else was coming to. Since this event happened quite recently I still have mixed feelings about it but I know that I was the “bad guy” and shouldn’t have done the things I did.

  3. Stories where you are the hero in the story are more fun and self-promoting to tell. One of my favorite hero stories was one day I when I was about 11 years old, my grandmother and I were driving home from lunch when we saw an old lady fall face first into the grass. We immediately pulled over and helped her sit up and call an ambulance. We learned later that the women had been walking for a while and was experiencing heat exhaustion. The EMTs told us that could have been extremely serious had we not pulled over and helped the women. Everyone has stories about themselves that they are not particularly proud of because it was most likely with a friend who gets you into trouble. One of my “villainous” stories comes from a night I spent with one of my problematic friends. We were bored one night and decided to climb on top of a Robb & Stuckey furniture store. The store had ladders and fire escapes that we climbed. After being on the roof of the three story building for about 15 to 20 minutes the police showed up and we ran the opposite way with the cop looking for us. We got away safely never went back.

  4. My senior year of high school I signed up to help with “Challenger Baseball,” a league that teaches handicapped children how to play baseball. At first, I wasn’t too excited about spending my early Saturday mornings in the sun at my high school. But as soon as I saw how happy this organization made these kids and the impact I had, it made me feel like a hero. To me, this seemed like nothing but giving up some of my time on the weekends, but to most of those kids, it was everything. Seeing the smiles on these children’s faces as everyone cheered their way to home plate made my entire volunteering experience worth it.

    My sister and I are only 11 months apart and we are basically the same person in two different bodies. Fortunately enough, that means we have the same style and we are able to share closets whenever necessary. As I was packing for college I noticed that she had some of my favorite shirts in her closet, which unfortunately were also hers. When it came time to pack shirts I snuck into her room and snatched the ones I really wanted that were essential for my college closet. She ended up recovering a few of them before I left, but I still snuck away with a few. We can’t always be the good guy.

    Christie Gleason

  5. I am a lifeguard for a public pool in Jacksonville, Florida. One day, while lifeguarding, a camp kid was having a hard time swimming in the pool. He would hold onto the wall, try to let go, but would immediately sink to the bottom of the pool. After many tries of swimming and failing, I asked one of my fellow lifeguards to take the stand as I try to teach the kid how to swim. After giving the swim lesson for about an hour, he was able to swim at an arm’s length away from the wall and float on his back. I felt so great that I was able to share my passion for swimming with someone else.
    I have also had an opposite feeling, where I felt terrible about myself. There is a rope swing and water park an hour west of Jacksonville. Inside, there is a challenge called the “Demon.” It is a fifty foot rope swim that swings you over the Suwannee River. I was terrified of going. I heard horror stories of people braking their arm or leg. I saw one man who just completed the “Demon”. Upon exiting the River I saw that he had red and white marks on the whole backside of his body. I laughed and asked if he had received those from the “Demon”. He responded “no” and that he was in a horrible fire when he was younger. I felt awful. I should have never laughed at this man. It has taught me to think twice of what I say.
    Lydia

  6. I was on my way to school when it happened. It was a rainy day and the senior in high school just took the turn a little too fast and her car went careening onto the side of the ditch. The problem was that this was a fairly deep ditch filled with water. The good thing was her car was not fully in the ditch because it was balancing on the edge about to fall in. Myself and some other witnesses got out of our cars that rainy morning and helped the girl climb from her car as we balanced it on the ledge. I felt like a hero because I felt like I truly made an impact on someone by showing that I cared enough to just get out of my car.
    Of course I am not always a hero, most of the time I am quite mean and selfish. I specifically remember this one incident that shows my true selfishness. I was walking to class here at FSU when I saw a girl on crutches struggling to get across campus with her books. My first instinct was to help this girl but then the devil inside me said, “No then you will be late for class and its really hot outside.” So I listened to this voice and continued walking even though I really did not have to rush to my class. I often wonder how much of an encouragement I could have been to this girl if I would have just shown a little compassion.

  7. Recently, my friend broke his foot. I was sitting in precalculus, aimlessly staring at the board, and I received a text. “I think I messed up my foot last night”, it said. After also receiving a picture of a pretty swollen and black and blue foot, I decided to leave and drive him down to the wellness center- there was NO way he would’ve gotten there any other way! As it turns out, he was there for 2 hours and missed his chemistry lab (don’t worry, he was excused from the lab) all to find out that he had a broken foot and would be on crutches for a while. Along with taking him to and from the wellness center multiple times since, I help him out at Fresh Foods by taking his plates for him since it’s pretty hard to crutch anywhere with plates! I’ve never really thought of small acts like these as me being a “hero”, but hey, I’ll take it.

    As for me being a villian, I guess you could say I’ve messed up. We all have, once or twice. Who am I kidding, we all probably mess up more than once or twice. One thing that still kind of bothers me happened when I bought my car. We bought my car from a nice man who had posted it on Craigslist. He lived in Philadelphia, about an hour from my home. My dad took me into the city and helped me with purchasing my car. When it came time to go, my dad got in his truck and gave me the keys to my new car. I walked over to the car, which was extremely tightly parallel parked next to the sidewalk. Up the one way street, I saw my dad trying to wait for me. Behind him, someone was coming up, and he had to go so that he wouldn’t be blocking the road. In a rush and pretty frustrated from the multiple reverses and gear shifts that it had already taken just to get the car halfway out of the spot, I backed up a little too much and bumped into the car behind me. The alarm didn’t go off, but I also never got out to check and see if any damage was done to the car. I just pulled out and drove off. This bothers me still only because I know that if I ever saw anyone do that to my car, I would be extremely mad. My car is my baby, and I’d never want anything to happen to it, and that other person could’ve felt the same way.

  8. Renee Lemire
    The crisp Merritt Island breeze kissing my skin and the sound of the tides crashing onto the river banks were a part of this one lovely car ride with my mother. We were on our way home from having lunch with one of our family friends and I was full and satisfied with life at that moment. Everything seemed status quo until a jolting screech was echoing in my brain. We slid a little with my mother holding my hand. My heart was racing until we came to a dead stop. I look over the dashboard only to see just a couple inches from the car, an innocent puppy in the middle of the road. The look on the poor puppy’s face struck something in my body to lunge out of the car, despite my mother’s begging to get back in. I needed to save this dogs life. Every time I stepped forward and talked to the puppy to come to me, it would back farther and farther into the on-coming traffic road. In the distance, I hear a car coming towards us at no less than sixty miles an hour. It was time for me to decide right here and now. I had to make a split decision that could result in disaster: risk my life to save the puppy or just pray the puppy crosses the street. I ran with only adrenaline fueling me. The car was just around the corner. As I see the racing car in the peripherals, I grab the puppy and lunge back onto the side of the street. The wind from the car swept my hair. I could almost feel the heat from the car when it passed us. Suddenly I hear the owner come hysterically crying thanking me for rescuing her “baby.” The only concern I had was for this dog and I was filled with joy and heroism for the entire rest of the day.
    One hot summer day, my teammates and I just got done with soccer conditioning. My best friend/ teammate Abby was in the passenger seat and as we were in the car on the way home, Abby said she needed water. I pull up to our local Dollar store and Abby says she will be “right back.” Right when Abby closes the door, my teammates in the back start giggling. “What is so funny?” I said and in reply I here, “When Abby comes back; right when she is about to open the car door, put your car in drive.” I laughed at the thought and agreed that this will be a funny prank to do. When we saw Abby approaching, the giggles rekindled. I nonchalantly shifted gears in the car and drove as Abby was reaching for the handle. An uproar of laughter ensued and I laughed from the pissed off look on Abby’s face. Abby stated with conviction, “hey guys, that’s not funny!” She reached for the handle again and feeding off of the response I received from the audience in the back seat, I did it again. Oh, Abby was madder than I have ever seen her and I found that amusing for some reason. I gave some mercy and let her into the car. “You guys are assholes.” That was the only phrase Abby said the whole ride home, over and over again. After I dropped every one off Abby told me she is very upset and that hurt her feelings a lot. I apologized sincerely and I thought to myself; why did I do that to my best friend? I was ashamed of how I made Abby feel and I regret to this day ever doing it to her. I succumbed to peer pressure and let my values slip just to get a good laugh and that is not right.

  9. I can confidently say that there is more good than bad in me, not to sound conceited at all. I am passionate about helping others and being a positive influence on others, but there are definitely times where I fail to be that individual. A time I interpret myself acting somewhat heroic was a scenario after my best friend was hit by her NOW ex-boyfriend. She called me crying and I instantly knew something was wrong. Yes this girl is my closest friend but she’s not big on crying or letting her guard down. I got very few words out of her and instantly drove to her, separated what was going on and took care of her. All she need was reinsurance and a hug, but I feel somewhat heroic because I do not know what would have happened had I not answered my phone. Despite this, a time bad radiated out of my body was about two years ago. My sister left for college and I immediately began borrowing her clothes, nevertheless I ruined one of her favorite sweaters. When she returned for winter break she was looking everywhere for this sweater. I was out while she was looking for it and my mom was the one who took the fall and got screamed at for losing her clothes. I felt terrible and knew my mom didn’t deserve this or my sister, but I never said anything. Oops!

  10. The time I was a hero was when my friends and I lost a close friend in a street race and I had to take him to the hospital after his accident around 3:30am. He was hit by a reckless driver, who kept on going after he hit my friend’s motorcycle, which caused him to hit a guard rail. So I had him in my friend’s crown Victoria and I was applying pressure to one of his wounds and I had also tied a makeshift tourniquet on his left leg above the knee, while my friend speed to memorial hospital. Unfortunately he was pronounced d.o.a. (dead on arrival) a few minutes after we arrived. Then there is the time I was the villain or just an asshole you decide. One night in the summer after junior year of high school a friend and I decided to head to hit up a club in Miami and on the way there we stopped to pick up some cigars and women and as he went in the store to get a drink I left with the girls and left him there. So as the night goes on I get a call from him saying he got arrested for something like loitering and he asked me to come get him. I said I would in a few minutes, but I never got him. He still won’t forgive me for that incident.
    Palmer Harper

  11. A time when I was a hero would have to be when I gave a homeless man my change at a gas station. Usually when you see a beggar, you automatically think they are going to go and spend everything on drugs and alcohol so you will not give them anything. For the most part I am the same way. But what was different about this man was he was not holding up a sign asking for people’s money. Instead, his sign asked for work by doing miscellaneous jobs here and there for people. Person after person would walk by him not even listening to him and some not even looking at him. I was about sixteen years old at the time so I could not give him any work but I decided to give him the rest of my change. In return the man said “God bless you”. I had to feel good about that.

    On the other hand, a time when I was a villain was when my little sister and I got into a fight. Like any other brother and sister only a couple years apart, we fought all the time but this one ended differently. We both were very young at the time so no one can blame me for what I said; at least I like to believe that. It started when she started to interrupt my game of Power Rangers with her Barbies. Any intelligent child will know that the two do not go together under any circumstances. So my Power Rangers did the only thing they knew how to do and that was to kick some butt. After the initial comments of “you’re stupid”, and “you’re an idiot”, she wanted to get personal and say that mommy does not love me. Well everyone knows that mom loves me the most, so I had to come back with something. To sum it all up, I told my little sister she was adopted and she believed me for weeks before saying anything to my parents. I feel so bad about it but at least I got her back.

  12. It was the summer of 2011 when my brother graduated from middle school. My brother’s last day of school was actually the day after his graduation (for some reason), so we sent him on his (not so) merry way for his sudo-middle school day. He came back home from school and said he had a good day and went to his room while my mom got ready to go to his school’s high school graduation ceremony (very small school that had an evening grad ceremony). My mom left and my dad came home from work at the hospital soon after as normal.
    My dad started making us dinner while I watched TV in a separate room and my brother played some computer games. He asked each of us how many pieces of chicken we wanted and we both answered him (just one for me while my brother asked for two). My dad soon called us for dinner and I hurried over, starving.
    We called my brother over (the computer in the living room isn’t far from the dining room table), but he wasn’t answering us. We assumed he was really absorbed in his game, so we walked over and explained it was time to eat dinner. Nothing. He was just staring at the screen. We told him that if he didn’t come to eat, we would turn off the computer. Still, nothing. That was really weird; usually he’d jump up and immediately do as he’s told. We pulled him up from the chair, but he was oddly heavy, like he was trying to sit down. We brought him to the table and sat him down.
    It was almost as if he was drunk. We took a closer look at him: his eyes were wide and glazed over, and he was just blankly staring ahead; he would look at us when we said his name, but he wouldn’t “see” us. His body was there, but his mind was somewhere completely different. My dad told me to keep a close eye on him as he went to change clothes, because there was definitely something wrong.
    I stood there, staring at my 13-year-old brother, wondering what the hell was happening in his head. Then, his arms went up in an almost robotic motion (“DAD!! DAD SOMETHING IS HAPPENING!!”) and he faced his head to the right. My dad is running in, still trying to put his arm into the other sleeve and telling me to call 9-1-1. I do that and I tell them my address, and tell them what my father is saying: Petite mal seizure, arms contracted, blank stare. I’m telling her this, and my brother went into a full-blown grand mal seizure. My dad grabs my brother’s chin and tilts it up while he sits there, twitching like I have never seen anyone twitch in my whole life. My voice starts shaking and I tell her to please hurry, even though I know it won’t do anything.
    My brother finally stops seizing after what seems like hours, and my father laid him across three chairs. At some point, my dad had called my mom and had forgotten to hang up; she’s screaming on the phone in a panic. I hear the sirens and start opening all the sliding glass doors so the paramedics can get through. As they run in, I give them all the information while my dad tells them my brother needs O2 as soon as possible. My mother speeds into the driveway as the paramedics are about to take off with my brother and she gets in the front seat of the ambulance. I collapsed onto the driveway and cried while I texted my friend across the street to keep an eye on the house (no time to set up the home alarm).
    Dinner was still on the table when we got back.
    Too long; didn’t read: Brother had a seizure so I called 9-1-1.
    —-
    Good old sibling rivalry. When my brother was three and half half years old and I was seven, I began to jump on the bed. Our beds came in do-it-yourself kits, where it gave you the wood and screw and you had to put it together yourself. He wanted to do it too, and being a dumb seven year old I decided to show him how to do it on his bed. I told him he had to be careful, even though it was a pretty basic thing to do. So I helped him stand up on the bed with me and we began to jump.
    We were jumping for a short while, when suddenly, *crack*. I stop, but he continues. I put my hand on his shoulder and tell him to get off the bed and just sit, as I ran back to my bed.
    Shortly after, my mom came into our room (we shared a room at the time). She asked us what the noise was, and I knew we were caught. However, I instinctually blurted out, “IdunnobutAlexwasjumpingonthebed.” I said it really quickly so she couldn’t tell that it was only half the truth. She looked around the bed and then, seeing nothing wrong with it, she checked underneath. One of the wooden planks that the mattress rested on had snapped in two. My mother was really angry, mostly because “he” did something dangerous and then caused another potentially dangerous thing to happen. He was grounded for a while (can’t remember how long) and couldn’t play video games, I got off with no consequences for me.
    I told him I was really sorry and that I don’t know why my explanation came out as it did. I hugged him and (shamefully) went to my bed and read a book. I didn’t allow myself to play video games for the same amount of time that he was grounded.

    -Becky B.

  13. It should be easy to brag about myself and tell a story about how I have acted in a heroic manner. To be honest, it was easier to think of the villain story than the hero one. I had to text my Mom to give me suggestions on what I have ever done that is heroic. As it turns out, I’m not a hero. I’m just a nice person who does the right thing. I hold the door open for people, help old ladies with their groceries and aid the nerdy kids when they drop their four calculus books in the halls. I treat others how I want to be treated, which is a novel concept in this day and age. I have no exciting stories about rescuing children from burning buildings or saving all of New York from an alien invasion. I am just your everyday, run of the mill “nice guy”.
    Now the easy part: my villain story. To this day, I still am unaware of what he did to deserve it, but my brother pushed me too far. It was when my younger brother was still in diapers. We had just changed a real stinker and it was my turn to throw it away. Instead of throwing it away like I was instructed, I decided to stash it under my older brother’s pillow. Don’t worry; I’m not the worst person in the world. I put it in a Publix bag previous to the stanky diaper being stowed away. I am known for having the strongest sense of smell in my family. That night when Logan asked me if I smelled something in his room, I denied it and went to bed. A week later, Logan found the surprise under his pillow. To this day, I am not ashamed. Logan now knows that when you mess with this bull, you get her horns.

  14. It’s hard to write a hero story when you don’t consider yourself a hero. It took me a while to come up with this one, but here it is. About two years ago my best friend got very sick and rushed to the hospital on a Sunday evening. We were all worried as she entered the emergency room and got prepared for a life threatening surgery. As I waited with her parents throughout the night, I could only pray everything would work out as planed. Thankfully about eight hours later the doctor walked out and told us everything went okay, but the recovery would take a while. She stayed in Hartford Hospital, the capital of Connecticut, located about an hour away from where I live. During the recovery I would go visit her three times a week no matter what my schedule was, I always found time, as it was a very serious situation. After three months in the hospital, I was simply happy to see her healthy again, but to her I was a hero. I found out I was the only person that refused to leave her side when nothing was going as planned, I was the only friend that had never stopped visiting for those three months. As I think back at it, I was doing something I felt was my responsibility. Sometimes you never know when you might be affecting someone else’s life without realizing.

    Being a villain is much easier than being a hero, being a hero takes more effort. My villain story happened about a year and a half ago, my parents went away on vacation and I was left alone in an enormous house. Well, what does a 17 year old do alone in a huge house? Yes, we throw parties. Unfortunately, it got a little out of hand when some idiots decided it was funny to practice some wrestling in my living room, only to hit the wall and leave a human sized hole in it. Fortunately, my construction skills were at an all time high and I quickly fixed the hole on the wall and painted it over. It was perfect, just my painting skills didn’t life up to expectations. My parents came home a week later to notice the slight color change in the wall, which led them to calling the authorities and finding out the full story. Till this day I get comments about my idiotic party ideas, its pretty funny. At least I know I’m good at fixing walls, but my parents still refuse to forgive me.

  15. It was the Saturday of the Florida-Florida State football game, i was in 7th grade. My hometown is 40 miles from Gainesville, so unfortunately I grew up a Gator. We had a Pop Warner football that afternoon before we would head to UF to see the big game. The night before i remember watching clips of Tim Tebow playing and giving halftime speeches. I was so pumped for my game i could hardly sleep. We traveled to Hernando to take on one of the best teams in the league. I was the starting quarterback and we needed to win this game to clinch our division. I was set up to be the hero if we could pull it off…but in the second quarter i rolled out to pass and got tackled from behind and came down in an awkward way that i thought just rolled my ankle. i watched the last 8 minutes of the half from the sideline as my team quickly became the underdogs and fell behind 14-0. During halftime the trainer taped my foot to the point where it was so tight i couldn’t feel me toes. my coach asked me if i could run…i could not. But i could still throw. I came back in the second half in a shotgun formation and would just snap the ball and throw to my receiver without moving or being able to put a whole lot of pressure on my foot. I ended up throwing 3 touchdowns this way in the fourth quarter and my team got the victory. After the game we went to the ER to get an x-ray and it turns out that i had 3 broken bones in my foot. I felt like a hero for sure on that day.

    I was a sophmore in high school and me and all my buddies had just started to turn 16 and begin being able to drive on our own. We were tasting out first bit of freedom in our lives where we were free of our parents and felt like we owned the world. Soon after, we started what seemed to be a harmless little prank war between ourselves. it started with propping up windhsield wipers and closing side-view mirrors as we would pass friends’ cars in the parking lot after school. Then one night it got escalated a little too fast. One of my friends on the baseball team had a old mustang with a canvas top that he had passed down to him from his dad. This kid was one of the founding fathers in this prank war and he first introduced “egging” to the arsenal of tricks we played on each other. Me and some other buddies didn’t particularly enjoy cleaning the egg off the side of our car so we decided to get him back. 3 dozen eggs, 3 bags of cat litter, and a 5 pound bag of frozen shrimp later we arrived at his house. We began to pour all of our ammo all over his car and on top of the canvas top. What we didn’t know was that he went out of town all weekend to visit family. So for 3 days his car sat baking in the sun with all these things all over it. He was less than thrilled when we finally got home to see that the egg has began to fade all the paint on his car and the weight of cat litter and shrimp on the canvas top had slowly weakened the material to the point that it caved in and all fell inside his car. # day old shrimp and eggs isn’t the greatest air freshener for a car. We felt terrible knowing we were the ones who ruined our buddy’s car. We had to all come up with money to pay for the damage. What seemed to be a harmless prank turned out to be a lot more.

  16. At every school there are those kids that just don’t seem to fit in. They lack friends, sit alone in the cafeteria, and are the target for jokes and insults. My first year of high school I noticed that every day a girl sat alone at lunch a few tables behind me and my friends. After awhile I couldn’t handle the sight of her lonely face anymore. I asked my friends if I should invite her to sit with us. They looked at me quizzically and shot down the idea immediately. I had two choices, stay with my friends or go try make this girl’s day. I stood up from my table, marched over to her, sat down and started a conversation. She was shy at first but once she got talking she explained that no one had ever made an effort to be her friend before. I had just met her and she already considered me a friend. I sat with her the rest of the week until my friends came to their senses and invited us both back to the table. I didn’t have much in common with this girl and probably wouldn’t ever hangout with her outside of school but during lunch everyday she had a friend in me and I could see how much it meant to her.

    When you’re part of a dance company, you’re one team. You go to competition with one goal, to win as a team. Even in the solo category you’re competing to represent your studio. Of course you want to place as high as possible but the real goal is to have someone, anyone, from your studio win the highest score. I was at a competition a few years ago and after performing my solo, I was disappointed with my performance. We all have our off days so it wasn’t a huge deal. But my best friend had the complete opposite experience, she did her solo the best she’d ever done it. I knew she nailed everything and would score very high. When awards time came around, I knew what was about to happen. My prediction proved correct when I was back in 8th place and my best friend stood before me holding the first place trophy. I should have been ecstatic for her. But the villain in me came out and instead I took my disappointment in myself out on her. I let my immaturity get the best of me and spent the rest of that day ignoring her and it was two days before I even congratulated her on her performance. I told all my friends that she just got lucky and I just had a bad performance. I later realized how foolish I was and was ashamed of my behavior.

  17. When I was about eight years old, my family was at a friend’s house for a barbeque. All the children were swimming in the black-bottom pool, laughing, playing, and having a good time. When all of a sudden my three year-old sister, who doesn’t know how to swim jumped into the pool. I was swimming in the deep end when I saw her jump in. So, I swam as fast as I could her, picked her up, and placed her outside the pool. She had swallowed some water and was coughing a lot, but she was safe. Who knows what could have happened in that situation had I not gotten to her in time. I’m just thankful I saved her before anything serious happened. Now my mom sees me as my sister’s hero.
    Around the same age I was crowned hero, I was also labeled as quite the little villain. One Saturday morning, my baseball team was supposed to play one of the hardest teams in our league. After the intense Atom 1 game ended, my team reigned victorious. As I waited for the parents to stop talking to each other so we could leave, the captain of the losing team came up to me. He told me that I played baseball like a girl. To a tomboy, saying that was the biggest mistake he could’ve made. I started the tear up and he began walking away. As my sadness turned into anger, I grabbed a rock, threw it at the back of his head, and split his head open. He fell to the ground crying and I walked up to him and said, “Now who plays baseball like a girl?” Needless to say, he never picked on me again.

  18. I would not describe myself as a “hero” but their have been times I’ve felt “heroic”. One time in particular is when I found and rescued a lost dog. I saw this confused puppy (more like a rat looking creature) one day driving back home so I decided to pull over and investigate. As soon as I approached it, it took off full sprint down the road. Being the good Samaritan I am, I immediately pursed this dog in a high speed chase around the neighborhood. This went on for at least thirty minutes easily. Eventually, when the dog ran out of gas, I read its collar and returned it to its owner. I didn’t prevent a bank robbery but I sure felt like a hero when I saw the smile on the owners face.

    A time I was the bad guy goes back to my youth days. My sister and I would always fight and one day she crossed the line. She just broke my favorite power ranger toy and I was out seeking revenge. I decided to hit her where it hurts and devour all of her hidden candy stash while leaving the wrappers all over the kitchen to get her in trouble with our parents. She ended up getting grounded for a week and I got away with a clean slate. Don’t break my toys…

  19. Andrew Miller

    A few weeks before leaving for college, my mom had mentioned to me that there was an outdoor cat hanging around our back porch. Normally, I’d think nothing of it because there are tons of cats that come and go through our backyard. This one was different, however. She was pregnant. She also looked severely underweight, even for a cat well into her pregnancy. I decided it was only right to feed her and give her some much needed attention. I noticed she began to put on weight at what I’d like to think was the perfect time. Those weeks passed, and I grew to enjoy seeing her come around as she got closer and closer to having her kittens. Then, that day finally came. She had her four kittens, which we eventually gave away, and now Macy is apart of our family down in Orlando. I felt good knowing that I helped something in need, and hey, I even made a new friend out of it.

    There have been a couple times where I felt like I screwed up big time, but none quite like this. It was back freshman year when I played on the basketball team. We were having a bad game against an inferior opponent. The fourth quarter was winding down too, so frustration began to set in. There were a few minutes left, and an extremely (and I mean EXTREMELY) questionable foul was called on me. At that point my emotions go the best of me and I reacted a lot stronger than I should have. I immediately ran to the ref and began begging my case, but he was having none of it. I wasn’t about to lay down either, so I continued to press the issue. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but it definitely was not pleasant. I was hit with a technical foul and it gave the other team the lead. At this point there was less than a minute left in the game, and we never regained the lead. After the game I felt awful. I was frustrated almost to the point of tears, because I knew if I simply kept my composure, we would’ve had a great chance to win the game. My teammates were hard on me at first, and it was understandable. I hated myself that night, and I definitely feel like the loss was totally on me.

  20. Lauren Anthony
    It’s pretty hard to think of one special circumstance where I was the hero, I don’t normally do things that are very extreme. But, I do remember in middle school when all my neighbors and I used to actually play outside before we all had cars I did something heroic. There were two little girls on our street and they happened to be very sensitive and often got their feelings hurt. One day all the older boys were messing around with them and teasing them about something stupid which made both of them run away crying. They usually went to tell their mom who often came outside and released her wrath on all the kids, but this time I was there. I caught up to them before monster mom could hear anything about it and talked to them and explained that they were just kidding, that there’s no reason to tell on the boys and made them feel much better. That day I saved the cul-de-sac from the evil mom down the street and stopped two girls from getting hurt.
    Now, a time when I was the villain. There are plenty of times when I was not the hero throughout my life especially when I am driving, I become a villain. I can think of one time in second grade when my friends and I were on the playground. We decided we did not like this boy in our class for some reason- probably because he had cooties. At recess one day the boy was chased by me and my friends and then we continued to fill his shoes with mulch from the playground. As you can imagine, he did not enjoy our torture and became very angry at us, eventually telling the teacher. We got into a little bit of trouble but then again we were only in second grade.

  21. This one time in ninth grade my friend Demi came crying to me and told me that she was being bullied by this girl named Jessica. Jessica just so happened to be in one of my classes. I told Demi that if Jessica bothered her again to tell me. A week later Jessica was teasing Demi again so during class that day I approached her and I told her that I overheard how she was talking to Demi in the hall and how it sounded really rude. Jessica lied and said she was kidding and that she says things like that all the time, I told her that it sounded really rude and she should apologize and never speak to anyone like that again. She ended up apologizing to my friend and left her alone.

    On the other hand, i wasn’t always a hero. In third grade there was this really obnoxious girl that followed me and my friend around. She would always say the weirdest things and we never understood why she chose us to follow around. She would copy everything I said and did, I couldn’t take it anymore. My friend and I would always try to ditch her every time she would show up. If she sat with us during lunch we would ignore her. For some reason we thought that it would make our problem go away. Yet, in elementary school there is always a consequence for everything. My teacher saw me as the ring leader and spoke to me and told me I was being a bully and I had to stop.

  22. At a young age I really, really wanted a dog, but my parents refused to get me one, so I would walk up and pet every dog I would see. So one day I was walking around my neighborhood and I saw this dog just lying on the sidewalk by itself and it looked hurt. I walked over to the dog and realized it was a stray dog that was extremely hungry and week. The first thing I did was run home and got an old bowl filled with water and whatever food I knew I could take out the house without my mom noticing. When I took it back to the dog it ate and drank and ended up being a very friendly dog. An old lady saw me sitting on the sidewalk with the dog and asked if I needed help, I told her the story and he called the animal shelter. I waited until they got there to make sure my dog friend was okay. Its safe to say that I’m like a vital part of that dog’s life.
    Now at this same age I was kind of a little dictator among my group of friends. I was the smallest in the group but for whatever reason I ran the group. I determined what game we were playing that day, if we were going outside or not that day, and if anyone else could play with us. It is the really only villainous time I can think of. The older kids in the neighborhood would get all of the younger kids to play fight each other to see who was the best. I was the one who could fight the best in the group so I also was the one who would have to fight for the group. When my cousin came over, we would go around and fight anyone in the neighborhood I had a problem with. When I think about it, I was a little terror.

    – Le’otis Boswell-Johnson

  23. One time i was a hero was over the summer I worked as a camp counselor for middle and elementary schoolers. I had to be with them 22 hours a day (all day minus the two, one-hour breaks). One night a camper woke me up at 3 am. I assumed she was going to ask me if she could go to the bathroom, tell me she couldn’t sleep, or something else unnecessary to tell someone at 3 am after a long day of camp. So I looked up half asleep, and barely heard her. She was having trouble breathing and panicking. All I heard was “Miss Rebecca… I can’t… breathe…” I immediately sat strait up and told her to grab her name tag and shoes and rushed her to the camp clinic. I got her there just in time for the nurse to give her nebulizer to stabilize her breathing. I’m so glad that I woke up that night for my camper and I don’t want to think of what would have happened if I didn’t.
    One time when I wasn’t such a hero was in 5th grade. Our teacher sent the class outside with magnifying glasses. My two friends and I had heard a rumor that magnifying glasses could use sunlight to start a fire, so of course we tried it. We only got so far as to making the grass smoke, there was no real flames, but never less our teacher freaked out. We were sent to the vice principal’s office and told us that our parent’s would be disappointed because we were terrible children and we tried to burn the entire school down. (No, I’m not exaggerating, she really told us that) To try and get out of trouble, I decided to lie to my parents and told them I had no idea that magnifying glasses could start a fire with the sunlight. They believed me and I let them for two years. But the guilt built up inside and finally in 7th grade I told them that what I did was on purpose. What I did was not the right choice, but now I look back at it and laugh.

  24. In my junior year, of high school my English teacher was the devil. In all of her classes, our class was the last of the day. The rest of her classes all averaged an ‘A’… then there was our class. Averaging an ‘F,’ our class would have to listen to this teacher lecture and rant about how difficult her life was. Day in and day out, without fail, for 45 minutes she would stand at her podium and complain. This would usually be followed by her telling us how some assignment she handed out discretely prior, or during, her rant is due in the last 10 minutes of class. This is why we were all failing, and yet, her superiors would always take her side, saying: “She is the teacher and should be treated with respect…” One day I couldn’t take much more of her complaints, and I knew I wasn’t the only one. I stood up, mid-rant, and told her: “could you keep it down, I’m trying to do this assignment that’s due at the end of class.” At first I felt like maybe I was out of line and just being disrespectful, but that feeling subsided when the entire class stood up and clapped. Oddly enough, she sat down at her desk and didn’t dock my employability grade. For the remainder of the year she did not rant in our class, but I heard 6th period was no so lucky. I felt like I saved the class from failing, like I was the hero.

    It was sometime after football practice and a couple of guys and I were waiting for our rides home. Me being that senior without a car, I was surrounded by underclassmen. I was exhausted from the workouts that day, as were the other players. All I wished for was to get home and drink a pitcher of ice-cold water. One kid, Mason, approached (after asking several kids before me) and asked if I could give him a ride. Mason’s family was not in the best background financially, his parents took the bus to work. He rode the bus to school, but there was no bus in place for kids who stayed the extra 2-3 hours for football practice. Whereas I pitied Mason, I was just too exhausted to give a hoot. I told him my mom wouldn’t drive anyone home because she was mean that way (which was entirely not true). Looking back I feel bad for Mason having to walk home that day, and many days that people did the same thing as I. I was the Villain of this situation… and I’m not proud of it.

  25. I played the role of a hero a few times I can recalled the one moment that comes up when I think about it is when my neighbor got hit by a car . All I could remember is her screaming when I ran outside to see what was going on I could see is her grabbing on to her foot trying to rub away the pain . Quickly I rush back home and grab the keys to my mom car and took her to the hospital . The doctor said if she waited any longer she her injury would have been more dreadful . Till this day she would thank me and I would response you’re welcome I would do it again tomorrow if it was to happen again .

    But when there is a hero there is also a villain . The one moment I could think that I would labeled a villain is when me and my siblings would fight . The funny thing about that is because when you’re the youngest your parents would consider you the trouble maker. So me and my brother had a fight and the ending of it was kind of nasty . When my parents came to break it up I was the one who got in trouble . I was seen as the “bad guy ” .

  26. Is it bad that I’m having a hard time coming up with a heroic story? I feel like most of what I do is for my self benefit. I was a fundraiser one year for the organization St.Baldricks for pediactric cancer research, but I only raised money because I had an incentive of 20 community service hours. I helped set up and sang for a Mini-dance Marathon my school’s NHS held at my school to raise money “for the kids,” but I only did so because it was a requirement for NHS. I was thinking of myself because I wanted to get into FSU and NHS would help me get there. The only time I can think about doing something nice or being the “Hero,” is helping a family member or friend. This past weekend I went to my cousin’s house and helped her with her campaign posters. She’s in the 6th grade and is running for student body president. We made her posters “Hunger Games” themed and used phrases such as “Vote for the Girl on Fire, Elizabeth for Secretary!” It was so much fun helping her make them and beyond gratifying when I saw how happy she was. So when I think about that, how good it makes me feel to do something nice for somebody else, I have to ask is the only reason I help people for my benefit? It it didn’t feel good afterwords to help somebody,would I still help them? It reminds me of the lyrics from the Musical Wicked “Was I really seeking good or just seeking attention? Its that all good deeds are when looked at with an Ice-cold eye?” I bullied a girl for almost a whole year in middle school. To this day it makes me sick to my stomach. I have since apologized and we are now on good terms with each other, but I will forever feel like a Villian when I think of her.

  27. One time when I was a little boy growing up on the rough streets of Riviera Beach I saw these boys throwing rocks at my neighbor’s car. They were big kids probably in middle school and to a 5 year old they looked like gods. My neighbor was not the nicest guy he chased every kid away that came near his house and the only thing he did car about was his car. He washed and waxed it everyday, he never missed a spot. Everyone on the block knew how much he loved his car and that’s why the kids targeted it. One night when I was playing outside in my yard I heard the kids, I could hear them rustling around in the bushes across the street. Then I saw the rocks fly out of the bushes and land on the car. They hit the car with force a made noises so loud the alarm started to go off. My neighbor came out and says what happened to his only joy in life. He did not cry but he had a hurt look on his face the look someone makes after a loved one has died. Then the police show up and they look for the boys and they start asking if people saw them, know one knows but me who did it and I’m the only one who can positively ID them. I hear most of my neighbors talking and I hear things like “Maybe if he wasn’t so mean this wouldn’t have happened”, and “he deserves it the way he treats people”. I could believe how people were talking, this man just lost the thing he treasured most and people were happy about it. I would not stand for this so I told the police about the boys where I saw them and where they had run off to. They found the boys arrested them and for the first time the old man was nice and actually thanked me.
    My villain story is pretty bad so please forgive me if I offend anyone. I was small I was kind of a bully looking back on it I feel bad for all the kids I sent crying to the principles office. At the time I really did not know I was a bully, I just had fun making fun of people and my classmates laughed with me so I thought it was alright. Usually when we make a joke we assume who we are making fun of wont take any personal offense, and when you’re a little kid you don’t say anything in malice its just to get laughs out of your classmates. One day I was making fun of one girl and mentioned something about her mom. Before I knew it she was in tears crying to the teacher and I was the one in the principals’ office. Apparently her mother had passed away and being the dumb kid I was at that time didn’t even think to realize that some kids did not have mom. Needless to say I felt horrible and never made fun of anyone after that day. Ok that’s a lie I still make fun of people but I make sure they have both parents.

  28. When I was in the third grade…. I had a heroic moment. We all remember a time when we witnessed a kid getting picked on and did not know exactly how to handle the situation. Of course, we all have those fantasies where we burst in and punch the bully in the face or have a really good comeback that completely befuddles the perpetrator. But then again I was in the third grade, so neither of those scenarios would have occurred. Luckily, I was still able to be a little heroic. A boy in my class was being teased because the other kids found out that he had a night light. They were all laughing and calling him names and he was on the verge of crying. I felt so bad and I knew I had to intervene. I barged in and said in my strongest most confident voice, “Hey! I have a night light, too!” The boys immediately got quiet and walked away. The boy and I exchanged a look and I felt like I just saved the world.

    Sadly, I do not always act this way. I have my moments that I look back on and am not proud of. We all wish that we could always be the shining hero, but sometimes a little thing called peer pressure spoils our plans. Impressing our friends is very very important. We hate to disappoint them and fall below their expectations. This same feeling of peer pressure overcame me when I was riding bikes with my neighborhood friends one sunny afternoon. All of the sudden along came this boy who we thought was a little weird. He was on his bike and started riding along with us. My friends and I wanted to get rid of him so we devised a plan. That’s when we decided to play hide and go seek. Of course, he was “it” first and we had him count to one hundred so we would have enough time to pedal away. We biked to my friends house and hid our bikes in the backyard and went to her room. We looked out her window and watched as he wandered up and down the streets looking for us. We all laughed, but something inside me felt awful for playing this trick. I knew it wasn’t right and that I should have stood up for him and included him in our games, but I didn’t want my friends to laugh at me. I wish I could go back in time and be stronger in that moment.

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