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MidReal Story
The Reckless Series
Scenario:A boy who grew up having it hard being the black sheep of the family only made him tough more wiser wisdom intelligent brave charm hard-working to attain his goals as an adult
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Ethan Scott
He is a former professional hockey player who now owns a bar in the Canadian Rockies. He is resilient,tough,and independent. Ethan grew up as the unwanted son of a wealthy family,facing rejection and hardship. He learned to be strong and selfsufficient,earning a spot on a hockey team and later becoming a professional player. After retiring,he opened a bar,where he helps people in need,embodying his philanthropic nature.
Ethan's Father
He is a wealthy individual who initially rejected Ethan as his own son. He is harsh,judgmental,and unapologetic. Ethan’s father denied paternity upon learning of Ethan's birth,labeling him as the product of a onenight stand. This cold reception fuels Ethan's determination to succeed without external support,shaping his personality and driving his ambitions. His father remains absent in Ethan’s life,but his rejection continues to influence it profoundly.
Ethan's Mother
She is a woman who had an affair with Ethan’s father and bore him as a result. She is strongwilled,compassionate,and protective. Despite being young at the time,she stood up to Ethan's father when he tried to dismiss responsibility for Ethan. Her selflessness in caring for Ethan showcases her nurturing nature and her ongoing commitment to his wellbeing through distant parenting,even when circumstances forced her to distance herself from him.
Being the black sheep of the family has made me tougher, wiser, more intelligent, braver, more charming and harder working.
It’s also made me more independent, less needy and less expectations.
I’ve learned not to expect anything from anyone and to only rely on myself.
That’s a good lesson in life and one I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I’d do exactly the same if I had my time again because being rejected and cast aside has only made me stronger and more determined to succeed on my own terms.
My father made it clear he didn’t want me when I was born and that all I was to my mother was a product of a one-night stand.
He never wanted to be a father to me or have any kind of relationship with me.
That rejection has driven me my entire life and been the driving force behind everything I’ve achieved.
It’s also made me not want children of my own.
I watch Tommy and Sarah playing in the backyard of my bar.
The sun is setting behind the mountain, casting a golden glow over the scene.
Their laughter echoes off the trees as they chase each other around the yard.
Five years ago, I never could have imagined that I would be adopting two orphaned siblings who wandered into my bar with their social worker.
But here we are.
Tommy is eight years old now, and Sarah is six.
They are both full of energy and curiosity, always eager to explore and learn new things.
Tommy kicks his soccer ball across the yard while Sarah chases after it, her blonde pigtails bouncing behind her.
Hudson comes out onto the patio with two cups of hot chocolate, and their eyes light up.
"Thanks, Hudson," Tommy says, taking a cup from him.
"Thank you," Sarah adds, her voice sweet and innocent.
Hudson ruffles her hair before going back inside.
I watch them drink their hot chocolate, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.
This is what it means to be a father. I never thought I would be able to feel this way about anyone else, but here I am, completely devoted to these two kids.
They bring so much joy into my life, and I would do anything for them.
I hear a cry of pain and turn to see Sarah on the ground, clutching her knee.
I’m by her side in an instant, scooping her up into my arms.
"What happened?"
I ask her gently.
"I fell," she says, tears streaming down her face.
"It’s okay," I tell her, stroking her hair.
"You’re okay."
I carry her inside and set her down on the couch.
Tommy follows behind us, looking worried.
"Is she okay?"
"She’s fine," I tell him.
"Just a little scrape."
I get some ice from the kitchen and put it on her knee.
She winces but doesn’t cry anymore. "It’s okay," I tell her again.
"You’re safe now."
She nods, snuggling into my side.
I look over at Tommy, who is watching us with big brown eyes.
He looks so much like his mother that it hurts sometimes to look at him.
But he’s also his own person, with his own personality and quirks.
He’s a good kid, smart and kind and thoughtful.
I’m proud of him already, even though he’s still so young.
"You okay?"
I ask him softly.
I clean the scrape with antiseptic while Tommy hovers anxiously nearby, his hands twisting the hem of his hockey jersey.
Hudson comes back into the room with three steaming mugs on a tray.
He sets them down on the coffee table before ruffling Tommy’s hair and heading back to check on the evening’s prep.
Sarah’s sniffles have subsided, and she watches me with big eyes as I place a Band-Aid decorated with cartoon penguins over her knee.
I guide both kids to the worn leather couch, settling between them with the hot chocolate Hudson made.
Sarah curls into my side, carefully holding her mug with both hands.
Tommy hesitates by the armrest.
"Come here, buddy," I say softly, patting the space beside me.
He climbs up, and as we sit together, I realize that this is the family I was always meant to have.
I sit between Tommy and Sarah on our worn leather couch, the familiar scent of hot chocolate filling the air.
Sarah’s penguin Band-Aid peeks out from under her pajama pants as she leans against my shoulder, her breathing steady and content.
Tommy fidgets with his hockey jersey, still hesitant after two years to fully relax.
I wrap my arm around him, pulling him closer, and feel his tension slowly release.
The distant clink of glasses and Hudson’s laughter drift up from the bar below.
Looking at their faces in the soft evening light, I remember the day they first walked into my bar, lost and alone.
Tommy breaks the silence, his voice small and uncertain.
"Do you think Mom would be proud of us?"
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question, and reply, "She’d be so proud of both of you, more than you could ever know."
I pull both kids closer, feeling Sarah’s small frame relax against my side while Tommy’s shoulders remain stiff.
The hot chocolate mugs sit cooling on the coffee table as I reach for the photo album I’ve been keeping since they arrived.
Opening to the first empty page, I suggest we start documenting our family moments.
Sarah immediately perks up, pointing to her bandaged knee and declaring it should be the first entry.
Tommy hesitates, then quietly mentions he has some pictures from hockey practice.
I close the album and set it aside, noticing Sarah bouncing excitedly on the couch cushions.
She points at Tommy’s hockey jersey and blurts out, "We should all go skating!"
Tommy’s eyes light up, though he tries to hide it by staring into his cocoa mug.
His fingers fidget with the hem of his jersey before he quietly asks, "Would you skate with me?"
The question hits me hard; it’s the first time he’s directly asked me to join one of his activities.
I set down my mug and check my watch, knowing the rink stays open late on weekends.
"Let's go right now," I say, feeling a surge of warmth as their faces light up with joy.
I head to the mudroom to gather our winter gear, while Sarah bounces impatiently by the door.
Tommy is already wearing his jersey and methodically lacing up his hockey skates.
I help Sarah into her puffy pink coat and wrap a wool scarf around her neck, noticing how the fabric scratches against the penguin Band-Aid on her knee.
After zipping up my own jacket, I grab our family’s worn hockey bag containing spare skates and pucks.
Sarah tugs at my sleeve, urging us to hurry, while Tommy shoulders his stick with quiet determination.
As we step outside into the crisp night air, Sarah looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Do you think we'll see any shooting stars tonight?" she asks, her voice filled with wonder.
Tommy glances at the sky, then back at me, and adds softly, "Maybe Mom's watching us from one of them."
I lead them down the quiet street toward the rink, our skates slung over our shoulders.
Sarah skips ahead, her pink coat visible under the streetlights, while Tommy walks close beside me, clutching his hockey stick.
The night air is filled with their excited chatter about constellations and shooting stars.
When Sarah stops abruptly, pointing up at the sky, Tommy bumps into her from behind.
Instead of getting upset, they both laugh - a sound that echoes in the empty street.
Sarah turns to Tommy, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"Do you think Mom ever skated with Dad like we're going to?" she asks innocently.
Tommy hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly. "Yeah, I think they did," he replies, his voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and hope.
I guide them down the snowy path, the streetlights casting long shadows ahead of us.
Sarah's question lingers in the air, and I can sense Tommy's grip on his hockey stick tightening.
His knuckles turn white against the tape-wrapped handle.
I place my hand on his shoulder, feeling him tremble slightly.
"Your mom loved skating," I tell them, remembering details from their social worker's file.
"She taught beginner classes at this very rink."
Sarah skips ahead, her pink coat a bright spot in the darkness, while Tommy's steps become more purposeful.
Tommy looks up at me, his eyes searching for something more.
"Did she ever teach you?" he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
I nod, smiling softly. "She taught me everything I know about skating."
Under the rink's bright lights, I kneel beside the wooden bench where Sarah and Tommy sit.
Sarah swings her legs impatiently, while I double-knot her white figure skates, careful to avoid the bandaged scrape on her knee.
Tommy methodically removes his shoes and grips his hockey skates, his hands shaking slightly.
When I reach to help him with the laces, he hesitates for a moment before letting me take them.
I pull the laces tight, using the crisscross pattern their mother once taught her own skating students.
Sarah hops up immediately, but Tommy remains seated, staring at his skates.
I remain kneeling beside him, watching as he struggles internally.
His fingers grip the edge of the wooden seat, knuckles white against his hockey jersey.
The sound of Sarah's skates scraping the ice echoes behind us as she makes small circles near the entrance.
When Tommy finally looks up at me, I see a glimmer of determination in his eyes - the same fierce look I once saw in myself when I first stepped onto the ice as a young player.
Without a word, he pushes himself up from the bench, adjusts his stick in his hands, and takes a deep breath.
I stay close behind him as he takes his first tentative steps onto the ice, the blade of his stick scraping against the surface.
Sarah glides past us, her pink coat a blur of motion as she shows off her growing confidence.
Tommy's legs wobble slightly, but he refuses my offered hand, gripping his stick tighter instead.
His jaw clenches with the same determination I used to feel before big games.
When Sarah completes another loop, she slows down and skates back to us, extending her hand to her brother.
"Come on, Tommy," she encourages, her voice light and teasing.
Tommy hesitates, glancing at me before taking her hand.
As they skate off together, he whispers, "I think I remember her teaching me this once."
I stand at center ice, watching as Tommy's hesitant strokes become smoother with each lap.
His death grip on the hockey stick slowly loosens as Sarah guides him, their hands linked.
When she lets go to demonstrate a turn, Tommy falters but catches himself.
His eyes meet mine, seeking approval.
I nod encouragingly.
He pushes off harder, matching Sarah's pace.
The sound starts low - a chuckle that builds into full laughter as he picks up speed.
Sarah joins in, their joy bouncing off the empty rink's walls.
I push off from the boards, my skates cutting clean lines in the fresh ice as I glide toward them.
Tommy notices me first, straightening his stance and trying to look more confident on his skates.
Sarah waves at me, nearly losing her balance.
"Race you to the other end!" I call out, deliberately keeping my pace slow.
Tommy's eyes light up with competitive spirit.
Sarah takes off without hesitation, her pink coat fluttering behind her.
Tommy hesitates for a split second before following, his hockey stick forgotten at the boards as he concentrates on catching up to his sister.
"Hey, Dad!" Tommy shouts over his shoulder, his voice filled with newfound excitement.
I catch up to them, laughing, "You two are getting fast; I might have to start training again just to keep up."
Sarah grins back at me, her eyes sparkling, "Maybe you should, but only if you promise not to go easy on us next time."
I match my pace to theirs as we circle the empty rink, our skates cutting clean lines in the fresh ice.
Sarah's pink coat flutters behind her as she practices her spins, her blonde pigtails bouncing with each turn.
Tommy finds his rhythm beside me, his hockey jersey brushing against my arm as he tries to keep up.
The rink lights cast long shadows behind us, stretching out like dark specters on the ice.
When Sarah stumbles slightly, Tommy reaches out to steady her before I can move.
They share a look of understanding, then speed up together, racing ahead of me.
"Hey, Dad," Tommy calls back, his voice carrying a hint of mischief, "did you ever think we'd be this good?"
I chuckle, catching up to them, "Honestly, I always knew you had it in you; it's just nice to finally see it."
Sarah glances over her shoulder, a playful grin on her face, "Well, maybe next time we'll teach you a thing or two!"
I glide to a stop at center ice, watching as Sarah and Tommy race each other around the rink.
Feeling playful, I push off again, my skates carving clean circles in the fresh ice.
I execute a perfect spin, my blades gliding smoothly across the rink.
Sarah gasps in delight, her pink coat flaring out around her as she slows to a stop and watches me with wide eyes.
Tommy's eyes follow my movements, his gaze fixed intently on every turn and spin.
"Want to learn?" I ask, slowing down and coming to a stop beside them.
I demonstrate a simpler version of the spin, keeping my movements slow and easy to follow.
Sarah doesn't hesitate; she immediately tries to copy me, her pink coat flaring out around her as she wobbles through her first turn.
Tommy hangs back, gripping the boards tightly as he watches me with interest.
His eyes follow my every move, taking in every detail of the spin.
"Tommy," I say gently, "you can do it; just trust yourself and let go of the boards."
He hesitates for a moment, then nods, determination flickering in his eyes as he releases his grip.
Sarah skates over to him, offering her hand with a reassuring smile, "Come on, we'll do it together."