Writing Challenge 8 - Randomly find someone in your yearbook. Create a story about their life today.

The Girl Who Despised Talent

Mikaela stifled a yawn. This time she managed to not the alarm clock into the wall. She’s been adamant about self-control these past weeks and not seeing a broken device the first thing in the morning was, for her, a success.

As she walked down to the kitchen while stretching her lithe body, waking up the muscles, the phone pinged. It was from Elena, her dance teacher that reminded Mikaela about the dry rehearsal later during the day. Mikaela rolled her eyes at the tone of the message was too caring, too nagging - almost like back at home. It was her great debut, of course she wouldn’t miss the rehearsals. She knew the whole show inside out, not only her part. She’s been practising like a madman, in fact…

Mikaela looked around the kitchen and measured the space around, nodding in approval as she bowed her legs in plié and slowly swung out her hands and legs in a gentle dance. Her ruffled blonde hair covered her head like a halo with thin strands occasionally getting in the way of her ice blue eyes. But her focus was solid, counting the rhythm in her breaths while also humming the melody as her body moved from place to place.

Arabesque, pirouetté, and don’t forget to slow down half a tempo when we move to adagio. It was a sight to behold, a woman in her pink Lilo & Stitch pyjamas dancing gracefully in the kitchen. She ended the dance with a bow. Having not only worked up some sweat but also an appetite she hurried to take a shower and make some breakfast.

It was a dream come to true for Mikaela since she had always loved dancing for as long as she remembered. She recalled that the only trait people memorized about her during middle-school was her dancing, even in high school. In fact, it was more common that she was called “dance-girl” instead of her name. Which wasn’t nice per say, but still a testament to her dedication. She had continued with dancing after high school, entering to an Arts College and during her last year, she was scouted. And now she’s the main star in the coming Swan Lake. It was wonderful.

Then she remembered what others said about her success and sneered. She shrugged off the memories and packed her bags, heading to the local theatre for the rehearsals.

---

“One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four,” counted Elena as the dance group moved in unison to her call. “Paulina, stretch out your neck more. Good, just like that.”

It was midday, the rehearsal has been going on for hours but no one uttered a word of exhaustion. They were professionals, and they were prepared to make it through, come what may. Everything needs to look perfect for the show.

“Alright, that’s it for now. Rest up and eat your lunch. We gather again in thirty minutes,” said Elena at last. It was like the strings were cut from a puppet, the dance crew fell down on the ground, panting and huffing for air. Some crawled to their rucksacks to get out some food, others gulped down their whole water bottles.

Mikaela patted herself dry, as she discussed some details with Elena while chewing on a few slices of apples.

“You know, I think you will get more accepted if you talk with the rest of the crew,” murmured Elena while looking at some notes.

“Been there, done that,” said Mikaela. “But every time I try to motivate them they just say words that triggers me.”

“Well, you are talented,” acknowledged the teacher.

“Stop it,” said Mikaela with a glare. “You know I hate that word.”

“Many take it as a compliment. You’re strange to despise that word,” commented the teacher with a small chuckle.

“It’s so degrading,” muttered the blonde girl. “I spent my life, my blood, sweat and tears for dancing. They say I’m talented? What happened to hard work? Dedicated? Talent is just a fluff word.” She huffed and puffed as to vent out her frustration. “And do you know what Paulina said when I tried to cheer her up and tell her to practice more? ‘It’s really hard, I’m not as talented as you are.’ Bullshit, it’s hard for me too. Just work through the pain.”

The older teacher had to take a step away from Mikaela, the anger that seeped out from the woman was too much.

“Micky,” said Elena softly. The affectionate nickname made Mikaela calm down. “I know how you feel. But still, the star should not only dazzle the watchers, but also the troupe. So go now.”

“I’ve already tried it,” whined Mikaela. “How did you do it?”

Elena smiled wryly and left the main star to solve the problems herself, only leaving one single sentence of advice.

“Just work through the pain.”

---

Hello again, here's the story for this week. It was fun looking in my yearbook and reminiscing about the past. We had quite a handful of personalities in my class so it was really hard to decide who to write a story about. I decided with Mikaela because I remember her having a solo dance performance during our last semester. I've known that she danced a lot, but I've only seen her perform that one time. It was fun to imagine her continuing with her dance, and extrapolating some of her characteristics. 

Thank you for reading!

Inspiration from Reddit 7 - Summoning the Devil

Another Wednesday, another storytime! This one hasn't gone through much revision since it's a recent story I posted on Reddit. And for the first time, I got over 50 points on a story, a new record!

So what did I write about? The prompt was:

"The last time you tried to make a cake, you summoned a demon. This time, you're prepared. You carefully ensure that nothing could possibly go wrong! The cake is done and you're just about to take it away, when the Lord of the Underworld taps you on the shoulder."
-Posted by Xcmd

The funny thing was that I previously had co-written a prompt-story together with a friend of mine, a story for another time, which was similar to this theme. So when I found this prompt I just let my hands type it away. It was one of the easier and shorter prompts I've written, which is confusing since it's given me the biggest audience response.

---

“Unbelievable,” screamed Leo as he threw his hands up in the air. The cake floated for a brief moment before it fell towards the ground with an ever-increasing velocity, only to be saved by the hands of the devils.

“Afraid you did it again,” said Lucifer as he put the cake with great care on the kitchen table. “Are you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?”

“I didn’t even use the same ingredients!” howled Leo and grabbed his phone to read the recipe. “Last time was a fancy cheesecake with lots of strange stuff but this time, it was just a simple pound cake. Only flour, butter, eggs and sugar!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” quipped the devil and spread out his arms. “I’m here, right?”

“You must be doing this on purpose,” accused the boy, pointing at the horned person with a trembling finger. “You must want my soul!”

The devil rolled his eyes. “Please, there are so many easier ways to take your soul. I’m all for elaborate plans, but the payoff must be worth it.” He scanned Leo up and down with his eyes. “And you are certainly not worth much.”

It stung. Leo lost his words for a moment but then retaliated with vigour. “And you aren’t that big of a deal if some simple ingredients can summon you from Hell.”

“You sure you didn’t add anything more than those four ingredients to your pound cake?” asked Lucifer, changing the subject with haste. “Maybe a few...daring words?”

“Nope, I just hummed on a song I…” Leo froze in the middle of his explanation.

The devil raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It was never the cake’s fault…” said Leo slowly as he realised what the source of the summoning was. “It wasn’t the cake. I make good cakes!”

“Well, I don’t know how you learned that...song, but can you please not summon me again, unless you know, you want to do the soul-trading thing,” said the devil with a dry tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” apologized Leo. “How long until you can return to the Underworld?”

The devil glanced at his watch. “Maybe in twenty, probably thirty minutes.” He then sighed. “What am I going to do?”

Leo pointed at the cake and shrugged. The devil smiled.

“Well,” said Lucifer. “You do make good cake.”

Writing Exercise 6 - The Element of Wonder

Apply a sense of wonder to something small and ordinary. Describe it using those cool point-of-view tools that evoke wonder in the reader.

Writing Excuses 11.06: The Element of Wonder [Link]

It's been a long time since I've posted one of the exercises from Writing Excuses, probably because I like the prompts better since they entail a story behind it, while many of the exercises I've done are descriptions or improving a character's personality. They are usually shorter than a prompt-story and most of all, I thought that they might be boring.

But what the hell, that's just me (probably).

The exercise for today was to describe something ordinary and it...extraordinary, due to point of view. It could be zooming in like a camera and show dynamic angles or maybe just a change in thought perspective. They were really hard to write. It's easy to evoke wonder in a fantasy-setting with dragons, magic and what-not. But an ordinary item?

I'm not sure how it worked out, but here are three items I described!

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[Item 1]

The transparent, green, plastic seal, covering the frail white tube of ink. You can see the inner workings of the oblong writing tool, except for the lower part that is covered in a darker shade of teal, made of another heavier type of plastic material. The tip is contracted, waiting to be unleashed on a paper or a notebook. No design, or logotype showing, only the clear green plastic and a darker shade on the bottom.

You can hold it easily in one hand. Applying the wrong force breaks it. A delicate tool after all. But use it the right way and you will convey concepts, feelings and new worlds.

[Item 2]

The thing that struck me first was the daunting thickness. Each page so thin, but adding them all together made formed it into the size of a brick. Although a pleasant looking one. The cover in shades of white, red and black forming stylized letters written, an image of an army preparing for battle. It asks to be picked up, promising you a new story, a new world, a new culture. It promises you an adventure.

[Item 3]

I always wonder if staring down a trash bin can represent staring down into the abyss. The things we don’t like or have any use of, those are the things that should be at the bottom of a trash can. But it can only hold so much. The garbage piles on, increases and floods out. If you watch from above, it feels like these nasty things reach closer to you, inching forward, approaching you. Is that what it feels like to stare into the abyss? The things that you don’t want to feel, or think about, those things coming closer to you, to your mind, to your soul?

I had to try. The thought tickled my mind, I stared down into the orange trash can. It was empty of waste, only a plastic husk. I dropped down some gum, some skins from a fruit and a few napkins. The bottom of the orange husk was now filled. And it felt like the pile of waste got closer to me. A tingle down my spine. I had to empty the trash can.

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Thank you for reading!

And I'm back! Writing Challenge 7 - A Story Set in a Ghost Town

Hello everyone, 
It's been a hectic month and a half and now I'm finally back to posting regularly on this blog.
NaNoWriMo was really fun but the number of words to write was much more than I could handle. I estimated that I could put in three hours of writing each day and that I could churn out the daily quota, but the plan didn't work out like planned.

Still managed to crunch out the first draft of a longer story which was a big milestone for me. I've never finished a  story longer than maybe 5000 words before, this one was more than ten times the amount! Still not done though, since I will need to revise it for a few months.

That was a brief update on what I've been doing, writing in solitude (most of the time). Here's a new short story!

---

Old and New

I walked into the bar and was met with the same view as outside the building. A place devoid of people. The lights were on, the tables were set. Hell, even music was playing from the speakers. It was like every single person that lived here suddenly disappeared.

Ah well, not that it mattered to me right now. I went behind the counter and rummaged around for refreshment and found some beer to my delight. As I downed a whole bottle and let out a satisfying burp I noticed something in my peripheral vision. I turned around and gazed around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary. It must have been my imagination due to how hungry I was, I mean there couldn’t poss-

“There’s food in the pantry to the left if you like.”

The voice came from behind. It was more of a hiss and the tone gave me goosebumps. I jumped back with a scream and threw the empty beer can towards the direction of the voice.

“How rude, I was just trying to help!” said the hissing voice with a hint of annoyance.

I took a better look and saw a man in his fifties. He was wearing a bowler hat, a fine suit with a vest and a pair of leather shoes. Oh, and he was all white and transparent.

I gave out another scream and in response, the older man smacked me with the back of his hand.

“Calm down, or else I will give you something to really scream about,” threatened the old man.

I was stunned. Mostly due to the smack but also because of the confusing situation, I had trouble gathering my thoughts but I managed to utter one sentence.

“I didn’t know that ghosts could touch people.”

“And I didn’t know that a man could scream like that,” retorted the older man. “Were you perhaps a castrato when you were young?”

“A what?” I asked, uncertain what he meant.

“Just a joke,” said the older man with laughter. He drifted towards a table and motioned towards me to come closer as he summoned a few more beers.

“I’m known as Leroy McGinnis around here,” he introduced himself. “What about you?”

“Adam,” I responded. “Adam Wilpur.”

“So Adam, how come that you’re here?” inquired Leroy. “Did you get lost?”

“No, I’m an explorer and…”

I began to recount my story. We were a group of friends who liked to explore horror places and we found some gossip about a town where no humans were allowed. After some digging, we found the place barely thirty miles from our city so we decided to take a trip during our next weekend. When we got closer to the destination a huge mist appeared out of nowhere. We had to leave our car behind to continue our exploration but something happened. Screams. Panic. I just dashed towards the sounds but I couldn’t find anyone. I just ran straight until I was tired. Then I ran some more. It felt like I was lost for hours in the mist and then it cleared up, I saw this town and ran to the closest building.

Leroy listened to my story without interruption. His brows furrowed when I mentioned the huge mist but he didn’t say anything.

“Well, Adam I have two news for you,” said the old man. “A good one and a bad one, which do you want first?”

I gulped. I recognized this scene from the horror movies. Telling first the good news and then on the bad news the demon or ghost attacks the human and the protagonist dies a horrible death. Ah well, let’s just get it over…

“The bad one please,” I said and braced myself, shutting my eyes.

“You, Adam Wilpur, are dead,” said Leroy McGinnis.

“Please end it quickly,” I said as tears started to flow down my cheeks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” asked the old man.

“I know you want to eat me, please just make it quick. Don’t torture me first if possible,” I responded still with my eyes closed.

A loud smack was heard and my head was pounding.

“Stop that nonsense, you are already dead and I’m no cannibal,” said Leroy. He looked me in the eyes as his own frame deflated a bit, maybe he was tired. “This town is a place for ghosts. For wandering spirits that still walk the earth. There are ghosts that miss the simple enjoyments they had as humans and this town is the result of their work. No humans can enter. Only ghosts.”

I looked at the old man while rubbing my pounding head. “I’m...dead?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Huh…” I had trouble grasping the situation, but hang on… “So what’s the good news?”

“The good news is that your friends are probably still alive since they haven’t entered the town.”

“Oh...that’s, yeah that’s good news.” I thought that there might have been a twist. That I might still be alive, might be the first human that managed to enter a ghost town or something, well that was not the case.

“Wait,” I said. An idea sprang up. “So, I’m a ghost now. Am I locked in this town or can I go wherever I want?”

“You are free to leave,” said Leroy. “But this town will always welcome you if you ever wish to return.”

“Oh boy, oh boy!” I said with a bit much glee. “I guess it’s time to have some fun. I’ve always wanted to scare the bejeebus out of people!”

“You’re taking it quite...well,” remarked Leroy with surprise.

“Well, people usually have a bucket list, but I have an afterlife-list, made it just for fun but man did it come in handy now...let’s see who should I haunt first? Peter? No, Carl? Hmm...what about…”

As the new ghost rambled loudly about his next target the older ghost shrugged and downed the last remaining bottle of beer.

---

I was unsure if I wanted to write a horror story or not, but somehow it didn't feel right when I wrote it. I changed it mid-way through and it felt better immediately better. Maybe I just prefer to write a more light-hearted piece.

Hope you enjoyed it, and see you next time!

/Error

Late Update - But hey, better late than never!

Hello everyone, Error here.

First I apologize for the lack of update on the site. I simply fucked up.

There's this thing in November called NaNoWriMo where you challenge yourself to write 50k words for a story. I decided to do it and it's been a greater task than I expected. I've been stumbling a bit here and there but it's still been manageable. But I forgot to post a notice that there would be a pause in my writing on this blog for a while. Ops. And once again, I'm sorry - I fucked up.

So when will I return with Writing Challenges, Exercises, and whatnot?

I will return posting regularly on this blog starting on the 6th of December. Look forward to it!

Bye, and once again - sorry for the lack of information.

Writing Challenge 6 - Start your story with: “He glanced at his watch impatiently…”

Owie, this one was so difficult for me to write. I had so much trouble putting my thought into words and I didn't have any idea on which direction I wanted.

Never the less, it's a challenge that I tried and I think it's something worth showing, for better or for worse.

➖➖➖

For Better or for Worse

He glanced at his watch impatiently, only to notice that the arms had stopped moving. Sighing over the broken clock, Nathan folded his napkin and asked for the check. Stood up once again. The waiter even gave him a pat on the back on the way out which made the matter even worse for Nathan. Sure, the waiter just wanted to show some sympathy, but would you like a stranger to comfort you in an embarrassing situation? No, that would just make it weirder.

Nathan walked briskly, heading home to the sweet warmth of wearing a hoodie and Netflix-binging. Why did he even bother with dating, the date probably agreed just to make fun of him. Everyone does that. His existence was to make everyone else feel better.

Lost in downwards spiralling thoughts, Nathan [bumped of course] into someone.

“Ouch” and “oof” were exchanged and two people were down on the pavement. A man in a suit with a broken watch and a young boy in bright clothing clutching a book. Nathan got up and helped the boy, asking if the boy was alright.

“Um,” said the child and nodded. The kid was maybe seven or eight years old with brown hair and dark eyes. It seemed like the kid didn’t dare to look Nathan in the eyes, rather preferring to hide behind the book he was holding.

Goodnight Mister Tom, read Nathan. He doesn’t know about the story but judging by the book’s length Nathan suspected that this kid was one hell of a bookworm.

Nathan looked around to find the child’s parent but none of the walkers paid any attention to them. It was like the world ignored Nathan and the child.

“Where're your parents?” said Nathan upfront to the kid, who responded by taking a step back and trying to shrink behind the book even more than before.

“Well, are you alone? Are you on the way home from school?” continued Nathan. The child didn’t answer, but instead started quivering, looking for help from the bypassers but no one bothered to even make eye-contact.

Nathan scratched his head in befuddlement, he just wanted to go home, but he would feel so bad if he left the kid in by his own insecurities. Nathan squatted down to eye-level with the kid and tried a different approach.

“That’s a good book you have there!” he exclaimed and pointed at the book with feigned amazement.

The child who was looking around the pavement for other people snapped back his attention to Nathan, eyes big and wide.

“You read the book?” asked the child. His voice was squeaky and raspy.

“Of course,” lied Nathan. “And it’s a very good book but very hard. I’m impressed that you read this difficult book!”

“It’s hard,” agreed the child. “But fun.”

“It sure is,” chimed Nathan. “What’s your name?”

“William,” said the child. He then pointed at the book. “Just like him.”

“Hi William,” said Nathan with a smile and a wave. “I’m Nathan. What are you doing out here?”

“I’m finding mister Tom,” said William. “Are you Mister Tom?”

“No, I’m Nathan,” said the young adult shaking his head. “Is mister Tom a friend of yours?”

“Mister Tom is a friend of William,” agreed the child. “When William need help, Mister Tom will save him.”

“Oh I see,” said Nathan. “What do you need help with?”

“I’m William,” said the child again and pointed, “Just like him.” The child then gave a pleading look to Nathan. “Please help.”

Nathan’s mind was working quite slow, it seemed that the kid needed help of some sort and the clue was in the book. He regretted about his lie, but once you started with a small lie, it’s easy to continue with some additions.

“Hey William, I might have Mister Tom as my contact in my phone, let’s sit on a park bench and I will try to see if I can find his number,” lied Nathan once again.

The relief in the boy’s eyes was shown by tears and many nods. Nathan winced by his own lies and worried that he might have gone too far. What if he couldn’t help the boy after all?

The young man led the boy to a park bench. The boy merely sat down, hugging the book with all his might while wagging his small feet back and forth.

Nathan took up his phone, but instead of going through the contact list he searched for a synopsis of the book on the internet. A few minutes later, his face was pale and his eyes almost as wide as when the boy a few minutes ago.

“You have a little sister?” asked Nathan, it was almost a whisper. His voice barely coming out of his mouth.

William nodded. “You found Mister Tom?”

Nathan hesitated, but he lied so many times now, to hell with it. Go all the way.

“Yes, but he’s far away right now,” Nathan said. “He wished he could help but he’s too far away. Mister Tom said I should help you instead. Do you trust me?”

Williams' eyes looked into Nathan’s. Those dark brown eyes flaring like bright torches into the very core of Nathan. A moment passed and the boy nodded.

“Do I call you Mister Nathan?”

“Yes, you can call me that,” said Nathan with a smile. “Now lead me to your home and let’s help your sister.”

It might have been a twist of fate that made William bump into Nathan. But in the end, it was Nathan’s own decision to help the child. It was maybe nothing at all, a child’s mind can be very vivid. But what if, what if what William hinted was true? It would have haunted Nathan for life.

Hell, if he exists to make everyone else feel better, at least he himself should have the rights choose his targets.

Experience - First Chapter of an Original Story!

Hello again! 

A time ago I participated in a community writing competition, I didn't manage to win in my group but it was my first writing competition ever, so I'm just glad that I finished through with my work instead of quitting halfway. The story I sent in was the first draft of this work, I really liked the idea of it and tinkered with the text after the competition and reworked some bits. Not going to spoil anything else, so here you go, let me present to you: Experience.

➖➖➖

Experience

First Chapter

“Hey there,” said the voice to the youngster.

Andrew stopped his weeping and looked up, focusing his tear-stained eyes on the source of the voice. It was another boy around his age, a young teenager with tousled short brown hair, dark eyes of worry and an uncertain smile plastered on the face. The youngster wore a black jacket, a yellow scarf and some weathered jeans ending in a pair of brown boots.

“Hey, you okay?” asked the teen. “What’s wrong?”

The moon shone brightly in the dark, illuminating the swing that Andrew sat previously to calm down. The chains on the swing he sat on gave a screech as he quickly wiped his tears and stood up preparing to leave, not wanting any more trouble tonight.

“No please,” said the boy with the dark eyes. He reached out with both his hands with open palms and slowly took a step back. “Don’t leave. I was just passing by and heard a voice, I just want to help.” The eyes looked straight into Andrews with something behind them. They reminded him of his mother, the same look whenever he came home with bruises and not wanting to talk about it.

As Andrew stood up, he noticed that he was a head taller than the stranger and hesitated. It’s not like the shorter boy was intimidating.

“It’s embarrassing crying in public,” acknowledged the stranger. “I know this, but sometimes, you just have to let it out.” He carefully took a step closer towards Andrew without breaking eye contact, trying to gauge how the teary-eyed felt. Since the previous crying boy continued to stand still, the stranger took another careful step.

“I’m Stuart,” the teen presented himself. “The closest I’ve ever gotten with a girl is a peck on the cheek and the girl slapped me afterwards. This happened maybe two months ago. I like strawberries, I hate broccoli. Like to watch basketball, ain’t that big of a fan of football - either of them. I like games but who really doesn’t in this day and age.”

Andrew listened to the boys rambling and decided that the person wasn’t scary and gave Stuart a nod. The other boy then pointed at the swing next to the taller boy and raised his left eyebrow in a questioning look. Andrew nodded once more and Stuart sat down next to him.

The playground filled with silence as the two boys didn’t speak up. The brown haired Stuart kicked on the sand, drawing simple figures with his legs and occasionally glancing towards Andrew. The other boy didn’t even twitch a muscle, staring at the sand in front of his feet, unblinking.

This continued on for almost a full minute before smaller boy broke the stillness.

“Tough day?”

It was spoken so casually, something a friend would ask after a long day. Not filled with worry, more like wanting to state a fact but that would be too rude so instead layered as a question.

“You can say that again,” answered Andrew still looking down at the sand.

“I see, hang in there,” said Stuart. After a moment of thought, he added “It’s like, you know, when you get stuck in a game and you get frustrated. Put the game down for a minute and next time you try it will get better.”

“Thanks but I don’t think that works for me,” responded the taller boy.

“Had a hard time at work?” continued the brown-haired teen, leaning closer.

“No, it was...something else.”

“Oh, okay.”

Silence filled the air again, and Andrew took a look at Stuart. The brown-haired boy was once again drawing figures with his legs, not prodding for more details. Just trying to be close by, in case Andrew wanted some comfort or wanted to talk about it.

After another moment, the taller boy took a deep breath and finally told someone else what happened.

“I got robbed.”

“What?!” Stuart turned around so quickly that the swing spun him almost a whole circle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m still in one piece,” said Andrew finally looking at the other boy, maybe not in the eyes but still at that direction.

“Oh good. Uhm, you did great,” said Stuart and punched Andrew's shoulder softly accompanied with a small smile.

It was so contagious that even Andrew smirked, but then he turned crestfallen again.

“The robber attacked me with a knife, we fought and somehow the knife ended in his stomach,” Andrew said with a low voice as his eyes lowered down to the sand once again.

“Oh,” said Stuart slowly. “Is the robber…?” He left the question unfinished.

“Yeah, he’s dead,” Andrew’s voice was cold and short. “Or probably dead, I ran away as soon as I realized what happened.”

“Hey, it was an accident,” said Stuart. “No one is going to blame you, and if you want - no one will know that it was you.” He then stood up from his swing.

“But hey, can I check up on that guy? He might still be alive and I could call an ambulance. I won’t say anything about you, just gonna’ say that I took a stroll and found the guy there. I don’t even know your name, right?”

Andrew’s eyes widened, staring the other boy in fear. His body tensed up like he was preparing to flee and this made Stuart backpedal.

“Nonono, I’m not leaving because I’m scared of what you’ve done. I just said that no one is going to blame you...I mean…”

Stuart sighed, calmed himself down and took out his cell phone.

“Look, I will call the emergency line here, and say that I heard a fight occur on the street which the accident happened, I will say that I don’t dare go near, just asking them to check it just in case, okay? I will speak it here where you will hear me. No bullshit.”

The brown-haired boy unlocked his phone and gave it to Andrew, letting him decide.

The scared boy looked at the device for a long time. He then took a deep breath and returned it.

“Please save him,” pleaded Andrew.

Stuart gave a smile and patted the taller boy’s shoulder and called. “By the way, what’s your name?”

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“So, you do this often?” asked Andrew.

The two boys were once again on the swings. After Stuart asked for help and gave the address to the emergency helpline, Andrew felt a bit more comfortable with the smaller boy and decided to get to know more about this kind stranger.

“Do what?” responded Stuart with a distracted look.

“You know, walk during the night and trying to cheer up people?” said Andrew. “Maybe walking back and forth before approaching them?”

“Ehm, you saw me?”

“Yeah, I saw your shadow behind the wall. It flickered so I thought it was a fire or light from a lamp or something but it was you going back and forth wondering if you should approach me - right?”

“Yeah…” said Stuart. “Sorry.” He sighed and leaned back on his swing, his eyes staring at the moon and the darkness, enveloping the scenery in his mind as he gathered his thoughts.

“I’m still not sure when I should approach people - I’ve learned that some prefer the comfort of silence and that they just need a moment to heal. Others want someone near to listen to their worries. But it’s so difficult knowing which one it is, and I’ve gotten hell for it.”

“Oh, like what?” asked Andrew curiously.

“Well...there was this one time I approached a crying elder woman, tried to ask what was wrong and she said ‘nothing’. But I remember my old dad saying that if a woman said that nothing was wrong, then there was something seriously wrong. Apparently, my father was the wrong one.”

A smirk bloomed on Andrew’s face as Stuart told about his previous experiences. It was soothing, and somehow comforting to know that there was a person that could so openly share his stories whether it was embarrassing or not.

“Why do you do this?” asked the bigger teen.

This time Stuart didn’t respond immediately. “Hmm...that’s a bit more personal. Let me think about it,” he said.

“If it’s uncomfortable, you don’t have to,” replied Andrew quickly.

“Naa it’s not that,” said Stuart shaking his head. “It’s just that I haven’t even told my parents about this so I just feel a little bad that they aren’t the first ones to know this.”

The shorter boy took a deep breath and started to explain.

“You see, I always loved those superhero movies and comics. They were inspiring and comforting. Always there for the ones in need. I aspired to be one of them. But of course, I don’t have any superpowers so it would just be dumb to try and save the world and things like that. I tried to help a stranger when a gang assaulted them but it just ended with both of us getting beat up.“

Stuart touched his left cheek as if remembering the feeling of punches and kicks.

“So helping people physically need to happen later when I’ve gained a bit more experience and strength. But I still want to do something so I decided to walk around during the evenings and nights to simply be a friend to those who needed one. Listening to their stories and worries and cheering them up. You don’t need superpowers to help someone, just a moment of your time means a lot.”

Andrew listened with wide eyes and ears not understanding how a small guy like Stuart could have goals so huge.

“How long you’ve been doing this?” he asked.

“Taking my walks? Maybe six months now,” said Stuart.

“And your parents don’t know?”

“I think they know that I go out at night even though I try to sneak out when they’re asleep, but they still haven’t said anything. Either they trust me or they just think it’s the teenage-hormones that need to be let out,” said Stuart with a grin and shrugging his shoulders.

“Your parents seem really nice,” said Andrew with a small smile of his own.

Stuart nodded. “Agreed.” He then stood up brushing off the sand from his pants and boots. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks for staying with me,” said Andrew. “Hey, anything I could - “

But the taller youth suddenly screamed and fell back on his swing. The shorter one flinched and looked around with an alarmed expression but no one was close by. He then looked back at his friend who was still on the ground. But the tall friend's eyes were locked on something a few feet in front of him.

“What is it?” Stuart asked urgently and helped the bigger teen up.

Andrew’s eyes were still wide and his mouth was gaping. He raised his right hand and pointed in front of him.

“You don’t see this?” asked Andrew.

“See what?”

“This message, it popped up out of nowhere!” Andrew's voice was almost a hysterical shrill.

“Okay…” said Stuart hesitantly. He tried to look at the thing Andrew pointed but there was only thin air. He tried to figure out what to say without scaring the other boy. “What does it say?”

“Y-You don’t see it?” The confusion was rampant in the taller teen’s eyes.

“Honestly, I don’t see it,” answered Stuart shaking his head. “But you can describe it for me. What does it say?”

Andrew swallowed hard before he responded:

“Congratulations, you gained a level.”