Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25024572-20150322233449

So a little while ago, I wrote a Micropasta story called "Shower." While it was pretty well written, it was very cliché and not very good. However, I have not given up on writing a Creepypasta story, which is where "Powerless" comes in. This one I'd like to think is somewhat original, since it involves a superhero (well, a former superhero). Not many people have done any superhero based Creepypastas outside of maybe some lost episode/game/comic stories. No one has actually done a Creepypasta story in the world of superheroes. I intend to change that. Sort of.

He was a hero at one point. Citizens loved him, villains hated him, and the world almost worshipped him. He was nearly as powerful as God himself, and definitely more benevolent.

But that was a long time ago.

Now he’s a normal man, a bitter man. His powers fled him some time ago, but at the time, he had hope for humanity. “So what if my powers are gone?” he had thought. “At least people would try and live up to my example. They would try and live by what I taught them.”

He was wrong about that. Things seem worse than ever. People seem to have forgotten him, and the example he set. Rather than help each other, people kill each other.

For a while, he still hoped that maybe things would get better, that someone, anyone, would remember what heroism was. But after seeing so much hate, so much death and crime and destruction, his hope died a painful death.

Now he’s an old and bitter man. A man whose thoughts revolve around how hopeless things have become. His thoughts were focused on that when three men approached him on a crowded sidewalk in broad daylight.

Two men went behind him, one went in front. The one in the front said, “Gimme your money.”

“I don’t have any on me,” The old and bitter man said, while thinking that once upon a time, he could have wiped the floor with these punks.

The man in front frowned, and said, “That’s a damn shame. That was the only thing that might’ve kept you alive.” The two men behind the old man grabbed him, and they all went into an alley. As this was happening, the old and bitter man was yelling for help. There were many people around, after all. One would help, right?

No one did. Some turned at the sound of his screaming, but none of them did anything.

A punch in the face quickly silenced him, and the goons proceeded to beat him.

As he was knocked to the ground, and being beaten to death, he realized something:

Any hope for this world died the day he stopped being a hero.

So, what do you guys think? Was it good? Bad? Are there any improvements I can make? Please let me know, since 1) considering what I do on the Wiki regularly, I deserve at least a little criticism and 2) so I can make the story good enough to become an actual, honest to goodness Creepypasta. 