Dream Story, Max Power

[Sliver]

So I had a dream today, and I managed to remember some details. The dream was unlike others I had and I remembered I some key points which I really liked so I decided to build a story around them.

The story is told from a point of view of a young teenager that is tasked to tell his story. Why? Maybe you'll find out. If you dare follow my story. Hope you don't suffer too much reading through this.

Chapter 1. Exposition, exposition, how I dislike thee.

"If dad loved grandpa so much why didn't he want me to meet him before?" I bitterly asked mom.

I'm not good at these things, but I guess it's something I have to do. Tell my story, that is. I started telling from this point because that's where I chose to begin, pretty straightforward. I actually had a pretty heated argument with my mother until this point. I lost, of course, but I knew I would from the moment I started. She's like that.

Anyway, exposition time.

I'm not going to tell you my real name, since it's kinda dorky. So I'll go with something else instead... Max, yeah, Max... Power. That's my name, Max Power. Sounds cool. Fine, it's stupid, but it's out there and I'm not taking it back. I'm almost sixteen. Tomorrow is my birthday actually. I planned a huge party with all my classmates, but that's not gonna happen.

My dad died two years ago on some secret assignment. The nameless organization he worked for was quick to compensate us for it. We were pretty wealthy before, but now we are really rich, so life is sweet. Well, not really, but I like keeping it hidden from my friends. When I just started going to high-school I decided that I want my classmates to think of me as a shallow cold-hearted greedy bastard, and enjoying the benefits of your father's death was perfect for that image.

Why did I decide to have that image? I dunno. We moved a lot when I just started school, so after a while I just started making up my personality, usually going for some extreme character just to mess with people. Since I was going to move soon enough anyway, it didn't matter. Except after I started high-school we stopped moving, especially after dad's death. I could have given up on the mask I crafted for myself, but I always try to follow through with my decisions, no matter how bad they are. I managed to find some good friends even with the messed up image, so it's not that bad.

Apparently, when my dad was young, grandpa was some kind of mentor of his. He's not actually my grandpa, but dad saw him as a father. They were closer than he was with his actual dad. My real grandpa, from dad's side, hated martial arts, a passion of dad. Dad went to all kind of tourneys which grandpa didn't approve of. Grandpa hated that dad was leaving for such nonsense, and when dad met mom on a tournament oversees, grandpa hated her too, just because of that connection. Of course, grandpa hated this mentor dad found for himself even more. Me? He actually likes, because I only enjoy playing video games and going out drinking with my friends, something I didn't tell my mom we do. But we don't see grandpa anymore, not since the turkey incident. Long story.

But this mentor, "Grandpa", was something else. Dad never talked about him, not really. He told stories about his training, and that "Grandpa" was great, but never about him. He didn't encourage me to meet him either. Which is the reason why it was such a surprise when mom declared I have to travel oversees to meet him. Today. So we argued. I knew she will pull the emotional card and I'll have to do it. I argued anyway. I love arguing and honing my skills, and by her pulling the emotional card, she admitted that I won on the logical offense.

"He wanted you to be ready." She said with a deep breath, glad seeing I gave in.

"Ready for what?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow. Was Grandpa "something else" dangerous? Crazy?

"To see. To listen. To feel..." She paused.

"To smell, to taste." I continued, showing my knowledge of the five senses. Which I was rewarded for.

Mom smacked me on the back of my head, smiling. I liked frustrating her like that.

"What about my birthday! I invited everybody and-" mom cut me off with a dismissive handwave "Don't worry about it." I mumbled something angrily for the sake of mumbling angrily.

And so I found myself, sitting in a black cab without anything. "Grandpa will take care of everything" mom waved at me as the cab pulled around the corner.

"You're Max, I presume." Said the old man "I was waiting for you."

[Asthix]

I just had to read this after seeing the thread title.

Like the Simpsons reference.

The beginning doesn't flow for me though. The first line and the following paragraph seem disconnected from each other.

Also, I would make the last five words it's own paragraph. It'll give the end more weight.

EDIT: If this was what you remembered from your dream, the hard part's now expanding on that.:smallsmile:

[Sliver]

The first line is disconnected from the next paragraph. :smallamused: Max started writing from the end of the argument, only to remember that he needs to explain things so that is how he got it. I'm writing it as if Max would write it, without a chance to go over and reconsider some things and just as his thoughts flow, that's how he is writing it.

It's not an excuse to being lazy! Maybe... :smallbiggrin:

It's only a small part of the things I remember from the dream. The biggest parts will show up in the next chapter or too, which I'll post here tomorrow.

[Sliver]

I should mention that anything here is made up and I'm quite ignorant about everything. There. Let's get to it. The chapter ended up shorter than expected, because I'm cutting it midway.

Chapter 2, I pity the tea, mister fool.

I looked into the cup grandpa gave me. A bunch of leaves that he poured boiling water on and claims to be tea. That, tea? Didn't even come in a bag! I held the cup for warmth, but refused to drink the liquid.

As I looked up, examining the elder as his back turned to me, I wondered why I thought of him as an elder. He didn't look old, he looked to be only a bit older than my dad, if he was alive now. Really, in his forties, tops. He had long silvery hair, tied up in the middle, creating a weird pony tail that was spreading and reaching his back.

He wore gray faded shirt with a painting of a waterfall on it's back. It was painted in a way that looked like the water is just continuing his hair.

I sipped the drink as I was mesmerized by the image, only to find out too late what I have done. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't my cup of tea either. Well, it was my cup of tea, at least one that was offered to me to drink tea from, even if not my own, but I mean, it wasn't a tea I really enjoyed, just tolerated.

"I don't care for martial arts like my father did." I finally said.

"We aren't always able to choose not to follow our ancestor's footsteps." He said, only halfway turning towards me.

I exhaled slowly and took another sip of the drink.

Grandpa turned to me after another minute, closing a book he was reading. I stood awkwardly in front of Grandpa, having him examine me.

"But it doesn't mean you have to follow the same path." He nodded "You aren't as fit as your father..."

I wasn't really fit, but I wasn't too bad either. Not something that some training couldn't fix. Of course, I didn't open my mouth because I didn't want to do that training and a different path did interest me.

Grandpa made me wait outside in the cold as he brought out a large case. Opening it slowly, he pulled out a smooth white bow with a black string.

A bow. It was simple, but it still got me excited. It was one of the things that I was really into, just never got the chance.

"I'm really going to compete in arche-" I begun asking, but he silenced me with a glare.

"Your father never competed after I taught him, and neither will you." He said harshly "You are here to fight."