Tag Archives: Dream

Sometimes It Sucks To Be The Good Brother

I don’t usually post my dreams, but this one was vivid and I remember it, and I woke up with the title of this post burned into my mind, so, I’m going to tell y’all it.

We don’t know how we got our powers.  All we know is, we got them at the same time, when I was twenty two and he was twelve.   They were incredible powers, too.  Reality-bending powers, limited only by our focus and our force of will.

Given the age difference, I didn’t see my brother much.  He stayed with our mom, and I had moved out.  Plus, as soon as I got my powers, I ended up being a full-time superhero, which didn’t leave much time for family.

Soon, however, he started pushing himself into my life.  His power had made him into a spoiled brat, and he started thinking he deserved whatever he wanted.  He would try to take my things, even my car, which he couldn’t really drive, even if his power let him open it and start it without the keys.

I put up with his childishness for a while, but the first time he used his power as a weapon against me, transmuting a lightpost into a giant floating sword, I knew he had to be stopped.  A quick talk with my mom revealed that she had no control over him anymore, that his obsession with my popularity was far deeper than I realized.

I went from being a full-time hero to being the warden/caretaker of a prison/asylum of one.  Keeping my brother’s powers in check proved to be a challenge, even for me.  When he threw tantrums, it was all I could do to keep the city from having an earthquake.

Finally, he went from being childish to being evil.  He nearly killed the pizza delivery man, and I realized just watching and countering him wouldn’t be enough anymore.

Since our power is genetic in origin, we can stop each other by physically restraining each other.  Contact nullifies our power, though in his case he could often still cause minor chaos if I held him, and by holding him, I also weakened my power.  I finally hit on an effective, if gruesome, solution.

I soaked a rope in my blood, then tied him up with it, which muffled his power while leaving me free.  He struggled against it for a while, and then went completely mad.  What little of his power he could use flew all over the place.  The furniture came to life, roaring and shaking; the television showed a zombie apocalypse trying to smash through the screen; the lights flickered and whined, and more than a few shattered.  My brother, restrained by the red rope, writhed and thrashed, his power even altering him, making him seem like some horrible monster, not the little brother I’d loved since he was born.

His rage lent his power a scope I could not match.  I could fix his attacks one at a time, but he lashed out at a dozen things at once.  I looked into his mind and saw nothing of what he once was.

Tears in my eyes, I killed him.

Sometimes it sucks to be the good brother.


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Filed under My Stories, Short Stories

A Weird Dream, an Interesting Story

Not two different things. A weird dream that I had last night that I think makes an interesting story.

So I was in London, standing on a street corner, waiting for someone. I didn’t know who. A car pulled up and I got in. The driver asked me if I had the money. I showed him a check for one hundred thousand pounds. He drove off, but another car pulled up beside us. The man in the passenger seat made an allusion to someone I didn’t know, but I gathered he ran the London Mafia. He shot my driver, who was trying to pull out his own pistol. I grabbed it and shot the mobster, and leapt from the car as it crashed. Now I was alone in London. I wandered for a bit and found a rocketship disguised as a tall building. I wandered around it for a while and found a Pip-Boy. On this Pip-Boy was the location of Sian Jones’ house. Lacking a better option, I went there. Turns out she lives in a castle. I somehow ended up in the great hall before anyone noticed me. She looked up at me and said, very sternly, “You’re supposed to be in America.” I replied, “Sorry to disappoint.” She gave me a queenly scowl. “Nicholas.” “That’s my name.” Then she squealed and gave me a tacklehug like she did when she first saw me at the OYAN summer workshops.

After that, the dream sort of faded out, but there was more. Some weird epic stuff. Anyway. That’s my dream.

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Filed under Blogging, Ideas, Life, My Stories, Short Stories


These are a few trial excerpts of a novel I’m helping the Dreamer with.  It’s mostly hers, but some of my characters are in it, so I help her. And I like writing some of the nightmare scenes.  These are told from the point of view of her main character, Shaden. They are in chronological order, but not consecutive.


I stood before the portal, shaking as I tried to will myself to step through.  The frame looked as though it were made of bones.  I didn’t want to know whether or not that were true.  I closed my eyes and stepped through, feeling the barrier between the Dreamscape and the Nightmare slide around me like slime.  Choking, gasping, I staggered away from the portal.

Into the Nightmare.

Even before I opened my eyes, I started to believe all the terrible tales about this realm.  All around me I could hear screams, but distant ones, too far off for me to help, but close enough to chill me to the bone.  By turning my head, I could hear different things.

Screams.  Laughter, of all kinds.  Happy.  Sadistic.  Maniacal.  Sinister.  Moans, of excruciating pain and of unspeakable pleasure.  The sounds of claws, on wood, and on metal… and on skin and bone.

I opened my eyes, looking around at… nothing.  Or almost nothing.  A formless cloud surrounded me, yet its formlessness seemed to almost give it form.  Vague shapes, disembodied eyes, monstrous creatures… were they actually there, or were they just the products of my racing imagination?

A noise behind me made me whirl, and there stood a werepanther.  The first thing that struck me was the sheer oddness of it.  Werewolves were heard of.  Werebears, even.  But a werepanther?

Secondly I noticed the perfection of its frame.  Even motionless, it seemed graceful.  All muscle, all power, all control.  I could tell than when it did move, it would not waste an ounce of power.

As though my thought had bee spoken aloud, the werepanther moved towards me, its talons extending and retracting slowly.  I backed away, my breath catching in my throat as it approached.

I backed into a wall that I knew had not been there a moment ago, and the werepanther came right up to me, running one talon down my cheek.

“Hello, Shaden,” he said, his voice at once terrifying and attractive.  “Welcome to your worst nightmare.”


Time had no meaning in the Nightmare World, but that didn’t stop me from thinking I had been in this maze for hours.  After the endless terror of the past few days, the quiet of the maze was almost more than I could bear.  I stayed tense along every corridor, around every bend, expecting this turn to be the one to lead to something terrible, yet it never was.

I found myself growing tired for the first time since I’d entered the Nightmare.  Could you sleep in a nightmare?  The drowsiness overtook me, and I collapsed on the hard ground, the world fading to black.

A small man in a lab coat stood over the table I was strapped to.  “Ah, you’re awake.  We can begin.”  He held up a scalpel, and I realized my clothes were gone.  Lines were drawn on my bare skin, marking organs and veins.

“No, no, please no!”

He cut into my stomach, ignoring my cries of pain, chattering quite pleasantly, as though I were an interested student, and not an agonized victim.  Reaching into the slit he had carved, he pulled out my stomach and showed it to me.  “Curious, isn’t it?”

The stomach grew a mouth and blood-red eyes, and growled fiercely at me.  I screamed and-

-woke with a start, back on the hard ground of the maze.  A thin line of burning pain was etched across my stomach, but when I lifted my shirt, there was no mark.  The ground around me, however, was drenched in blood.  My blood.  And it seemed that my blood had opened a trapdoor downwards, further into this mad place.

A tear formed in my eye, and I brushed it away angrily as I moved towards the door.  My thoughts, however, were harder to brush away.

Will this Nightmare never end…?


I stayed close to Vera as we pressed through the dark forest.  I had only just met her a few hours ago, but she was a sane, kind person in the mad, evil world, so I clung to her like a lifeline.

After a while, I noticed the whispers again.  They had been haunting me for a long time, and then had stopped.  Now they began again.

Dream Child…  Take her…  Use her…  Never get out…  Never get out…  Dream Child…  Dream Child…

The ground shook, and I fell hard, knocking my head against a tree.  Though dazed, I heard Vera scream.

“Vera!”  I staggered to my feet and looked around.  She was gone.  No traces.

Not the Dream Child…!

The voices sounded angry, and Vera’s scream tore through the forest.

“Vera, no!”  I fell to my knees, sobbing.

A wet thud sounded behind me.  I turned slowly.  Vera’s mutilated corpse lay there.  Her eyes, the only part of her body not torn apart, stared accusingly at me.  I whirled away and retched, shaking hard, a cold sweat covering my skin.

Next time, Dream Child…  We have time…  She can never leave…  Never leave…



Filed under Characters, Fantasy, Ideas, Writing