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MidReal Story
The Twin Selves
Scenario:My sister Sunny loves the Day while the other one Luna liked the Night and they only see each other at Dawn and Dusk because it was when the Sun and Moon share the sky together and their Parents are Always where concerend because they were Twins who where opisets and Luna fell asleep a lot and they ask about it and our parents say they have been like this for years Luna Falls asleep during the day and Sunny sleeps at night while her sister is awake and the only see each other at dawn and Dusk but Luna always fell asleep no one can hold a coverstarion with her during the day and they are only one and Luna gets sick and pukes and has a lot of accidents while Sunny doesn't get sick and is the perfect child
and the story was about Luna
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Luna
She is a twin who is a selkie (mermaid when out to sea). She is sensitive, dreamy, and often ill. She struggles with daytime sleepiness, often falling asleep in school. Her parents show concern over her frequent vomiting and nighttime awakenings. In contrast, her sister Sunny is more sociable and robust. Luna enjoys imaginative play with her sister, creating stories and characters, but struggles with feelings of inadequacy. She longs for deep connection with others.
Benny
He is a young boy from the community that visits the twins at least once. He is friendly, curious, and kindhearted. Benny interacts well with both sisters but shows particular interest in playing games with Sunny. Despite his youth, he displays maturity by offering friendship to both children despite their differences. His presence adds a spark of social interaction to the twins' lives, highlighting their desire for meaningful connection beyond family.
Grandma
She is Luna and Sunny's grandmother who lives in the city. She is nurturing, gentle, and wise. She takes care of Luna when she visits, providing comfort and reassurance when the child feels anxious or left out. Grandma offers warm hugs and gentle scolding when Luna makes mistakes. She plays an important role in creating a sense of security and love for Luna, especially when she needs extra care due to her fragile condition.
My sister Sunny loves the Day, while I love the Night.
We are twins, yet opposites in every way.
We only see each other at Dawn and Dusk, for it is when the Sun and Moon share the sky together.
It is a rare sight to behold, and one our parents are always concerned about.
They say we have been this way since we were born, and they worry because we are selkies—mermaids when out to sea—and our bond is stronger than any other selkie twins they know.
They stress how important it is for us to be connected to others—to make friends and be a part of the community.
But it is hard for me to do so when I am always sleepy during the day.
Daytime is when school is in session, and I often fall asleep in class.
My sister has no problem staying awake during the day; in fact, she wakes up during the night.
She excels in school and has many friends, while I am more of a loner.
I wish I could be like her—so robust and full of life—but I am not, and that makes me feel so inadequate.
Sometimes, I get sick and vomit; other times, I have accidents and wet myself.
My parents take me to see many different doctors, but none of them can figure out what is wrong with me.
I stumble into my bedroom, my stomach churning violently.
The afternoon sun is high in the sky, and it shines brightly through the window, making my head pound.
I try to make it to the bathroom, but my legs give out halfway there.
Vomit spews out of my mouth and onto the carpet, and I collapse to the floor.
The smell of my vomit makes me sick again, but this time, nothing comes up.
My stomach aches, and I feel a wetness spreading between my legs.
I am too weak to move; all I can do is lie there as the wetness seeps through my pants and onto the carpet.
I hear footsteps rushing down the hall, then Mom is beside me, her face tight with worry.
She helps me to the bathroom and sits me on the toilet seat while she cleans up the mess on the floor.
She helps me out of my soiled clothes and into fresh pajamas, then she brings me a glass of water and some crackers to eat. "Dad will be home soon," she says as she brushes my hair away from my face.
"I called him at work and told him what happened. He wants you to go see another doctor."
I nod as I take a sip of water.
Mom leaves the room for a moment, then I hear her talking on the phone in hushed tones.
I can't make out what she is saying, but I know it has something to do with me.
I curl up on my bed and close my eyes, feeling ashamed of myself for getting sick again.
Mom comes back into the room and strips the sheets off my bed, replacing them with fresh ones.
I drift in and out of consciousness as the afternoon wears on.
The crackers sit untouched on my bedside table, and my stomach is still churning.
The sun begins to set outside, casting a warm orange glow over the room.
I am still too weak to get up, so I lie there and watch as the shadows grow longer and darker.
Eventually, I fall into a deep sleep, lulled by the sound of crickets chirping outside my window.
When I wake up, it is dark outside and my sheets are damp with sweat.
I am still feeling weak and dizzy, but I try to sit up anyway.
As soon as I do, the room starts spinning and I feel another wave of nausea wash over me.
I try to call out for Mom, but my voice is barely a whisper.
My stomach cramps violently and before I can react, a warm wetness spreads beneath me. This time it is not just urine; I have lost control of my bowels too.
I lie there paralyzed with shame as tears slide down my cheeks.
I can't move or speak; all I can do is lie there in my own filth until Mom comes to check on me.
She finds me there, and I see the fear in her eyes as she realizes this is something far beyond our understanding.
I drift in and out of consciousness as Mom hovers over me, her voice tight with worry as she speaks into the phone.
The room spins even with my eyes closed, and my stomach keeps cramping.
Through the haze, I hear her describing my symptoms - the vomiting, the accidents, how I can barely move.
She grips my clammy hand in hers as she argues with the emergency operator about how serious this is.
My body feels like it's made of lead, and black spots dance in my vision when Mom tries to help me sit up.
She gives up and instead wraps me in a clean blanket, telling me help is coming.
The last thing I hear before slipping away again is the sound of sirens approaching, a distant promise of hope.
Through half-closed eyes, I watch unfamiliar boots enter my room, followed by the clatter of metal equipment.
Voices murmur above me, asking Mom questions about my symptoms while gloved hands press against my neck and wrist.
The paramedics speak in calm, practiced tones, but their quick movements betray the urgency of the situation.
When they slide the stretcher beside my bed, the motion sends another wave of nausea through me.
I try to help as they lift me, but my body refuses to cooperate.
The last thing I see as they wheel me out is Mom's tear-streaked face, etched with a fear I have never seen before.