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MidReal Story
Medallion of Power: Ethan's Redemption
Anonymous
May 26
Scenario:Eu sou um rapaz de 18 anos que perdeu tudo na vida, sua familia o rejeita, ele nao deu certo nos esportes nem mesmo na escola, ele acaba indo morar na rua. Porém ele encontra um medalhao que ao toca-lo acaba lhe passando poderes como força, e um QI elevadissimo.
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Maria Santos
local shop owner and Ethan's confidante, friend to Ethan, warm and supportive.
Ethan Clarke
young man with newfound powers, no significant relationships, disheveled appearance, resilient and introspective.
Lucas Bennett
high school bully turned ally due to Ethan's transformation, former antagonist turned friend to Ethan, muscular build, conflicted and repentant.
I was a failure.
I was a loser.
I was a reject.
And I was only eighteen years old.
The sun had set, and the streetlights were on, but I didn’t move from my spot on the sidewalk.
I didn’t have anywhere to go, so there was no point in hurrying.
I’d been living on the streets for the past two weeks, and I’d quickly learned that time moved differently when you had nowhere to be and nothing to do.
It felt like I’d been out here for months, but at the same time, it felt like I’d just been kicked out of my house yesterday.
My family hadn’t even let me pack a bag before they threw me out of the house and told me never to come back.
They’d said they didn’t want to see my face again, and they meant it.
I hadn’t seen or heard from any of them since that day, and I wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
On one hand, it would have been nice to know that they regretted their decision or that they missed me.
I’d given up on sleep.
I knew it wasn’t good for me, but I couldn’t help it.
Even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep on the sidewalk like some kind of homeless bum.
I wasn’t quite that far gone yet.
Still, my sleep schedule had been completely turned around since I’d become a stranger to the comfort of a bed.
I was up all night and slept through most of the day, only venturing out when the sun had gone down and most of the city was asleep.
The alcohol I drank helped with that, too.
It was the only thing that kept me warm on these chilly spring nights, and it was also the only thing that made me forget about everything I’d lost.
For a little while, at least.
If I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough, I could almost pretend that nothing had changed.
The nights were long, but the days were even longer.
I spent them wandering the streets, trying to keep myself occupied until the sun went down and I could crawl back into my hidey-hole for another night of restless sleep.
The days blurred together, one indistinguishable from the next, and before long, I’d lost all sense of time.
It felt like I’d been out here forever, but in reality, it had only been two weeks since my family had disowned me and kicked me out of my childhood home.
Two weeks since everything had changed and my world had come crashing down around me.
Two weeks since I’d finally come to terms with the fact that I was a failure in every sense of the word.
In hindsight, I should have seen it coming.
I’d always been prone to making mistakes, and no matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put in, I always seemed to let people down in the end.
Ever since I was young, I’d constantly been compared to my older brother—my perfect older brother—and no matter what I did, I could never measure up.
If he got an A, then so did I.
If he scored a goal, then I did, too.
But it was never enough, and no matter what I did, I always seemed to fall short.
No matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put in, I always came up empty-handed, and eventually, I stopped trying altogether.
I gave up on school, on sports, on everything, because I knew that I would never be able to live up to the expectations others set for me.
I didn’t have any friends, either, and after a while, I stopped trying to make them.
There was no point when I knew that everyone I cared about would eventually leave me behind.
I wandered through life like a ghost, going through the motions but never really living, and before I knew it, my time had run out.
I hadn’t always been this way.
Once upon a time, I’d had big dreams and even bigger ambitions.
I’d wanted to be someone important, someone special, someone who mattered.
But those dreams were long gone now, crushed to dust in the wake of my failures.
The realization that I would never be good enough weighed heavily on my shoulders, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to stand back up.
The truth was, school and I had never really gotten along all that well.
There were days when I woke up and tried my best to pay attention and do well in class, but it felt like the harder I tried, the worse things got.
I just couldn’t keep up with all of my classmates, no matter how hard I tried or how much effort I put in.
And as a result, I fell behind.
In their eyes, I was nothing more than a joke—a laughingstock who couldn’t keep up in any aspect of his life.
And they let me know it every chance they got.
No matter where I went or what I did, there were people who took one look at me and instantly dismissed me as a failure.
They laughed behind my back and whispered about me when they thought I wasn’t listening, but the truth was that they were right.
They didn’t even need to say it out loud—I already knew that I was nothing more than a disappointment.
It wasn’t just my classmates who expected me to do better, either.
My parents, especially my father, had always pushed me to excel and do my best in everything I did, no matter what.
They’d been disappointed in me for as long as I could remember, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never seem to shake the feeling that I would never be able to live up to their expectations.
I spent most of my teenage years trying to prove them wrong, but no matter how many goals I scored or how many A’s I brought home, I still felt like a failure in their eyes.
I should have known then that I would never be good enough, but for some reason, I kept trying anyway.
I’m not sure why, but for some reason, I kept trying to be someone I wasn’t, and as a result, I spent most of my life living in someone else’s shadow and trying to be someone I wasn’t.
Eventually, I realized that the academic world wasn’t for me.
It was too restricting and suffocating, and I knew that I would never be able to achieve my dreams by following the same path as everyone else.
As a result, I turned my attention to sports in the hopes of finding some sort of an escape from the life I didn’t want to live.
I found it strange how easy it was to get lost in the city’s rhythm, even though I had no place to go.
The people moving around me were all on the way to some destination or another, but I was just wandering aimlessly, my only goal to keep moving until I couldn’t anymore.
My stomach growled, but I ignored it, knowing that there was nothing I could do to silence the hunger pangs.
I hadn’t eaten in days and was already growing accustomed to the gnawing sensation that had settled into the pit of my stomach.
It was better than being reminded that I had no control over my life, no control over anything, really.
I had given up on myself and on my future, resigned to the fact that I would be stuck on the streets for the rest of my life.
I didn’t deserve anything more than that, anyway.
As I walked, my surroundings blurred into a sea of colors and shapes, and I allowed myself to drift off into my thoughts.
It was strange how easy it was to lose myself in memories of years long gone, to forget about my current predicament and allow myself to get lost in what could have been.
I could still remember what it had felt like to be young and carefree, to have dreams and aspirations and hope for the future.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost picture myself back in high school, surrounded by friends who were more like family than anything else.
They’d always been there for me, through thick and thin, and I knew that they would be there to catch me if I fell.
But that was before I lost everything, before I lost myself and became nothing more than an empty shell.
It was hard to believe that so much time had passed since those days, since everything fell apart and I found myself here, all alone in the world.
It was hard not to dwell on the past, to think about what might have been if I’d done things differently or if I’d made different choices.
But it was too late for that now.
There was no point in wondering about what could have been when it was already too late.
The sound of laughter up ahead snapped me out of my reverie, and I opened my eyes to see a group of men stumbling out of an alleyway in front of me, their voices loud and obnoxious as they jeered and taunted one another.
Several of them were carrying open bottles of beer and swaying drunkenly on their feet, while others were shouting and shoving one another around.
I recognized them as troublemakers from the neighborhood and instinctively veered off course to avoid them, but it was too late.
They’d already spotted me and were making their way over in my direction, their eyes trained on me like a pack of wolves who had just caught sight of their prey.
I tried not to panic as they drew closer, but I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t need any more trouble; my life was already filled with enough problems as it was without adding any more to the list.
