hero ➳ h.s.

chapter one

Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?

It had started in 1943.

It was a hot summers day; Harry had been out in the woods, behind his house at 4493 Pine Avenue in the little, tiny town of Kenton, Missouri. His cat- Fluffleberry (and, no, he had not named him that)- was following him shyly, in the manner all cats do and being rather discreet about it. Harry had been 20 back then.

But, then again, he was still twenty.

The hour was ten o'clock in the morning; half past or maybe even quarter to eleven. Harry had been thirsty- thirsty for water, and, conveniently, Fluffleberry had knocked over his waterjug a few miles back, so Harry had nothing to drink. 

Until he saw the tree.

It was a weeping willow, he realized- complete with the hanging branches and flowing leaves that made everyone who was gracious enough to see it stop in their tracks and exhale for a few moments, because, as Harry soon realized, life was a beautiful thing. Underneath the weeping willow tree stood a pool of water- some water trickling out of the tree in a manner that resembled the pouring of water from a pitcher into a glass. The water was clearer than anything Harry thought he had ever seen; a new sort of, enchanting water that made his heart race and breath pick up steadily.

Fluffleberry meowed and sank down beside the stream, then hissed and sprang away as if having seen a snake. "Stop that, Fluffleberry," the lad scolded as he cupped his hands underneath the trickle of water. "Don't be childish."

The moment his lips touched the water- the moment he sipped it and sighed at it's cooling relief, something happened in Harry's mind and body. He suddenly seemed stronger. More invincible. Less of the coward he was. At first he didn't realize it- couldn't feel the shift in his very soul. 

But he did.

Soon.

It was a week after the incident. July 12th, 1943. Harry was riding his bike through Kenton's Heritage Park when he felt a sudden impulse to turn a sharp left and go behind the waterworking building. He did so, following his instinct.

He saved Lucy Ella Mae from losing her innocence that day.

Harry called it a coincidence, nothing more than a silly coincedence. His mother had read the story in the newspaper and called Harry a hero. "I'm not a hero, mum," Harry insisted. "I promise."

As he was talking with his mum that night, he felt a feeling in his gut that made him shiver. "Mum," he said breathlessly at the end of another explanation of the new grocery store being put in on Main Street. "I don't feel right about-"

"About what?"

"I feel like I did, that day, in the park. About you."

His mum laughed. "Oh, Harry, I'm fine. I'm healthy as a horse, I promise."

Harry Styles' mum died of a heart attack that night.

That time, Harry knew it wasn't a coincidence. He would never admit it to anyone; no, but instead he fumed and cried and shook at night in his bed, because the feeling just wouldn't go away. Everytime he would get that feeling, a person, place or thing would pop into his head, and the next day, next hour.... next moment, something bad would happen. Rape. Murder. Death. Suicide. Kidnapping. Ransom. Car crashes. You name it, Harry sort of knew about it.

Sometimes he was able to prevent it.

This went on for a very long time until Harry realized he wasn't getting older. His cheeks weren't getting wrinkled; his hands were still strong and everything was alright. He checked it off as a blessing, saying to his aunt that he "was just blessedly being able to ward off any wrinkle appearances." And then Fluffleberry died; that rickety old cat that had been with him the day of the Willow Tree. 

Harry said it was because the fool was a cat, and he a human.

It was fine.

Right?

It wasn't fine when Harry's train to Seattle got derailed and literally rolled into a canyon. The reporters called it the worst trainwreck of the century. No one survived.

Except Harry.

He knew it was no coincidence, and, unless it was really a miracle, he knew what had caused his strange and supernatural abilites. The water, behind his house.

He would never die.

But he would be forced to either prevent or predict other peoples deaths.

Harry left Missouri that very day, in 1964, for a lifelong adventure across the world. You name it, he went there. He started randomly saving peoples lives, but he never took credit for it. Never stopped for pictures or a tearful 'thank you', never accepted awards or medallions. Because Harry Styles- the man, the boy, the hero- had a secret. A secret worth keeping.

A secret that had started underneath the willow tree.

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wow; first chapter and i'm already ranked as R.

whoop-dee-do-dah.

alrighty then, hopefully everyone enjoyed the chapter!!