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MidReal Story
The Brother's Goal
Scenario:Noah raises his little brother Daniel after their parents' death
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Noah Bowman
He is a professional hockey player for the Seattle Shooters. He is responsible, protective, and emotional. He took on the responsibility of raising his younger brother, Daniel, after their parents died in a car accident. He navigated his way through college with a degree in business administration and later became a successful hockey player. His emotional breakdown during a game reveals his struggle with the loss of his parents and the pressure of being a responsible older brother.
Daniel Bowman
He is Noah's younger brother. He is naive, innocent, and dependent. He looks up to Noah as his guardian and struggles with the loss of their parents at a young age. He faces challenges understanding the world without their parents and often seeks comfort in his stuffed animal, Mr. Whiskers. Despite his youth, he shares a deep bond with Noah, relying on him for guidance and support as he navigates life without parental supervision.
Evan Bowman
He is Noah's older brother. He is distant, indifferent, and selfcentered. He resents Noah for taking on their parental responsibilities after their parents' death. He left home to attend college in Colorado, creating distance between him and Noah. Evan's attitude towards Daniel is dismissive, showing little concern for his wellbeing aside from financial support. His absence leaves Noah to handle family responsibilities alone, straining their relationship.
Noah
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I can’t believe I’m actually standing here, on the ice, in front of thousands of people, playing professional hockey.
It’s hard to believe that it’s real.
That none of this is just a dream.
That tomorrow I won’t wake up to find myself back in my parents’ house, back in my bedroom, to go to school the next day.
But it’s real.
All of this is real.
And I have no one but myself to thank for it.
Well, myself, and Daniel.
My little brother has been my rock since our parents died.
He’s the reason I kept going, even when things seemed impossible.
Even when it felt like the world was against me.
He needed me, and I had to be strong for his sake.
I skate to the center of the rink, my breath visible in the cold air.
The crowd roars, but I tune them out, focusing on the section where Daniel always sits.
It’s easy to spot him in row twelve, Mr. Whiskers clutched tightly in his arms.
He’s wearing my old Seattle Shooters jersey, and when he sees me looking at him, he waves wildly.
Mac is sitting beside him, pointing at me.
The referee’s whistle cuts through my thoughts, and I turn back to the game.
I take my position for the face-off, crouching low and gripping my stick tightly.
Daniel
"Hey, Noah, you got this! Just remember what Coach said about keeping your head up."
Noah
"Thanks, Danny. But there's something I need to tell you after the game—it's about Mom and Dad."
Daniel
"What do you mean? Did you find out something new?"
The puck drops, and I focus on the game.
But my mind keeps drifting back to the crumpled envelope hidden in my locker.
Between plays, I catch glimpses of Daniel fidgeting in his seat, his eyes following my every move with a new intensity.
The crowd roars as I score the winning goal in the final minutes.
As teammates pat my back, I skate to the bench, my hands trembling while unlacing my skates.
Daniel races down to the locker room entrance, Mr. Whiskers tucked under his arm.
Mac follows close behind, giving me a knowing look.
I lead Daniel to the empty training room, its familiar smell of rubber mats and athletic tape now feeling foreign.
Mac waits outside, giving us privacy.
Daniel plops onto a bench, Mr. Whiskers still clutched tightly, while I pull the crumpled envelope from my jacket pocket.
My hands tremble as I unfold the letter, dated just weeks before the accident.
Daniel leans forward, his eyes fixed on the paper, his grip on Mr. Whiskers tightening.
I clear my throat and begin reading aloud.
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead as Daniel’s eyes grow wider with each word.
I pause mid-sentence, Daniel’s question hanging in the air.
The letter trembles in my hands, its edges worn from my constant re-reading over the past week.
Daniel’s grip on Mr. Whiskers loosens slightly as he leans forward, eyes fixed on the paper.
The training room’s sterile smell mingles with the lingering scent of hockey gear from my uniform.
I set the letter down on the metal bench between us, smoothing its creases while gathering my thoughts.
Through the small window in the door, I catch Mac pacing in the hallway, checking her watch.
"Noah, what does it mean? Why didn't they tell us any of this?"
"I don't know, Danny, but it changes everything we thought we knew about them."
"Do you think Mac knows more? She always seemed to be in on their secrets."
I fold the letter and slide it back into my pocket as Daniel’s eyes follow my movements.
The training room feels smaller now, the medical supplies and equipment on the shelves pressing in around us.
Before I can respond, a knock on the door breaks the silence.
Mac enters without waiting for an answer, her eyes darting between us.
Daniel clutches Mr. Whiskers to his chest, his face pale.
Mac approaches slowly, her shoes squeaking against the floor.
She sits on the bench beside Daniel, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"Did you read it?"
Daniel nods, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What does it mean?"
Mac takes a deep breath before speaking.
"There's more to uncover, trust me."
She reaches into her purse and pulls out another envelope, this one sealed and yellowed with age.
I take it from her with trembling fingers while Daniel leans against her shoulder, still clutching Mr. Whiskers.
The fluorescent lights above flicker, casting harsh shadows on the walls as I break the seal, careful not to tear what’s inside.
The paper feels old and delicate as I unfold it, revealing a hand-drawn map covered in strange markings and symbols.
Daniel slides closer, his eyes wide as he points at peculiar shapes scattered across the page—circles, crosses, and numbers that make no sense.
I recognize a few Seattle landmarks sketched in faded ink—the Space Needle, Pike Place Market—but most locations marked on the map are unfamiliar territories.
"What’s this one?"
Daniel asks, pointing to a star-shaped symbol near the waterfront.
"It's the starting point," Mac whispers, her voice steady and resolute.
I spread the map across the training room bench, Daniel leaning in so close that his shoulder presses against mine.
The paper crinkles under our fingers as we trace the marked locations.
When Daniel’s hand accidentally touches mine while pointing at a circled warehouse district, a sharp static shock makes us both jump.
The fluorescent lights above flicker simultaneously.
Mac steps back, her eyes widening.
Daniel drops Mr. Whiskers, and I notice the stuffed animal’s synthetic fur standing on end.
The strange energy lingers as we stare at each other, the map forgotten momentarily.
I retrieve Mr. Whiskers from the floor, noticing how the static makes his synthetic fur cling to my fingers.
Daniel takes his stuffed animal back, but keeps staring at the map spread across the bench.
The warehouse district marking draws his attention again, and he traces it with his finger, this time more carefully.
No static shock follows.
Mac leans against the medical supply cabinet, arms crossed, watching us intently.
"Maybe we should check it out," Daniel says, his voice carrying a confidence I’ve never heard before.
The fluorescent light above stops flickering, casting steady light on the map’s mysterious symbols.
"Let's find out what secrets it holds."
I gather my hockey bag and Daniel’s backpack from the corner of the training room.
Daniel clutches Mr. Whiskers tightly in one hand and the map in the other.
Mac checks her phone’s GPS, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"According to this, the warehouse district is about a twenty-minute walk from here," she says, glancing up at us.
Daniel nods, his grip on Mr. Whiskers tightening.
"I think we should bring flashlights," he says, his voice filled with a mix of determination and fear.
I remember how he always avoids dark spaces, how the shadows make him uneasy.
Mac rummages through the medical supply cabinet and hands Daniel a flashlight.
"It’s not too dark yet," I say, glancing at the clock on the wall.
It’s early evening, and the sun still casts a golden glow through the windows.
"But it’s better to be safe than sorry," Mac adds, her expression serious.
We exit through the player’s entrance, where a few lingering fans wait for autographs.
I sign quickly, watching as Daniel carefully folds the map and tucks it into his pocket.
The warehouse district looms ahead of us as we cross the parking lot, its smokestacks reaching toward the sky like giant sentinels.
Their shadows stretch across the pavement, casting long fingers that seem to reach for us.
I lead our small group across the empty parking lot, my hockey bag slung over my shoulder.
Daniel clutches Mr. Whiskers and the folded map in his hands, while Mac walks slightly ahead, her phone’s GPS guiding us through the maze of industrial buildings.
The setting sun casts long shadows between the structures, making Daniel step closer to me.
A security guard in a booth eyes us suspiciously as we pass.
I wave my player ID badge at him, pretending we’re here for some promotional photoshoot.
He nods and returns to reading his newspaper.
The warehouse windows reflect the orange glow of the setting sun as we approach the first building marked on the map.