I Create Worlds

"Ah Sh*t" Dave looked up into the dark sky, trembling, trying to stand up from the pool of blood. 

"I wish this were a dream"

Story begins.

Dave's family is one of contradictions: love and resentment, hope and despair. His mother, Lila, is a kind-hearted woman who holds the family together, working tirelessly to protect her children from their father's darker moments. His younger brother, Daniel, is innocent and bright-eyed, blissfully unaware of the complexities of their father's behavior. But it is Roger, their father, who casts the longest shadow over the household.

Roger wasn't always this way. Before the Cosmic Awakening, he was an ambitious, loving man. But when the Awakening came, and people discovered the internal spaces that could make them gods in their own right, Roger was left behind. He failed to awaken. To him, this was a condemnation: not good enough, not strong enough, not worthy. He buried himself in guilt, shame, and work to provide for his family in a world that now worshipped those who had awakened.

Things started going downward spiral when Dave was 5 years old. The cosmic awakening hit hard, changing everything. Beggars became kings overnight, criminals became heroes but his family remained the same. Trapped. Unchanged.

Four Years Later

Nine-year-old Dave was kicking up dust on the neighborhood field, a soccer ball bouncing between his group of friends.

"Hey, Karl! Pass the ball!" Dave yelled, already sprinting ahead.

"Don't shout at me!" Karl snapped, before hurriedly kicking the ball. But his pass was sloppy, and Ethan intercepted it with ease.

"Sh*t, you're useless, Karl!" Dave growled, throwing his hands up in frustration. He didn't even bother going after the ball; instead, he shoved Karl, who immediately shoved back. Within moments, punches were flying.

The others didn't intervene.

"Hit harder!" someone cheered.

"That was a nasty uppercut!"

"Oi, oi, hit him in the balls!"

For five minutes, the two boys went at it until they were sprawled on the ground, breathless, dirt streaking their faces. Ethan strolled over, grinning as he pulled them to their feet.

"Not bad," he said. "We should turn this into a business—build a ring and charge people to watch you idiots fight!"

"Shut up, rich kid," Dave muttered, swatting him away. Ethan was the son of a local politician, and while his privileged background annoyed Dave, the three were close friends.

"C'mon, Dave. Let's teach this bastard a lesson," Karl grumbled, already gearing up for another round.

But Ethan bolted, laughing. "Catch me if you can! And if you do, I'll call the police!"

The boys chased him, shouting curses.

Suddenly, Daniel's voice cut through the commotion. "Big brother! Mom wants you to come home fast."

Dave froze. His expression darkened, the earlier playfulness drained from his face. "I don't want to go home," he thought bitterly.

Karl and Ethan stopped, exchanging quiet looks. They knew. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about Dave's situation.

"See you tomorrow," Dave muttered, ruffling his brother's hair as they turned to leave.

At Home

The smell of simmering vegetables greeted them as they entered. Lila was busy in the kitchen, her face lined with exhaustion but still warm with a smile.

"Help me cook dinner, Dave," she said gently.

"Okay, Mom," he replied without hesitation.

Cooking had become second nature to him—peeling potatoes, scrubbing dishes. He didn't mind. It gave him a sense of purpose, a way to ease his mother's burden.

By 8 o'clock, dinner was on the table. The three of them ate in a rare moment of peace. Dave and Daniel helped clean up afterward, tucking leftovers into the freezer.

At 9, Roger came home.

The sound of the door slamming shut made Dave flinch. His hands clenched into fists as he listened to the familiar shuffle of unsteady footsteps. Drunk again.

Lila's face remained calm, but there was a heaviness in her eyes.

Roger sat at the table, eating in silence before stumbling off to bed. The unsettling tension lingered, like the sharp edge of a blade pressing against their skin.

Dave stared at the ceiling that night, his chest tight with frustration. "Tomorrow," he thought. "Tomorrow I'll talk to him. I'll tell him to stop."

But deep down, he knew he wouldn't.

"Sleep early," Lila said softly from the doorway. "You have classes tomorrow."

"Yes, Mom. Goodnight."

As the house fell quiet, Dave closed his eyes, wishing for a world that didn't feel so heavy.