The greatest storytellers are actually dreamers that people mistake for insane.
That was a saying my old man used to tell me when I was still a kid. Now, here's the thing—I don't know if he read it somewhere, heard it from someone, or simply came up with it himself and turned it into his own mantra. If I'm being honest, not just with myself but with the rest of the world, I don't remember ever coming across something like that before.
It's safe to say that I think I'm starting to understand what he was trying to say. Because now, I believe I'm living proof of it. You see, just like my old man, I'm also mistaken for insane.
Why is that?
Well, it's really simple—it's not rocket science or anything. My old man and I aren't the same flock of birds just because we share blood. We're the same because we're storytellers. Well, the world changed that term and now calls us writers.
I'm following in my father's footsteps, and I know it might sound like I'm overselling him because I'm his flesh and blood, but that's not the case. My old man was one hell of a storyteller and writer. Somehow, in his own odd way, he managed to do both and combine them—make them one.
I used to love reading his stories. I could gladly say I was one of his number-one fans, since I was always the first one to read them before they were released to the world. And just like me, the world loved them like crazy.
Because of that, I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to tell and write stories that weren't from this time or age—unique stories that, once released, would change the entire course of storytelling and story writing.
At first, that dream was just a childhood fantasy. But then, out of nowhere and without explanation, my father passed away. None of us saw it coming—especially me. I used to spend so much time with him, creating and coming up with new ideas together for his upcoming book, which he planned to be his final masterpiece before retirement.
Yet things turned out differently.
It wasn't just his final masterpiece—it was his final story. One he would never tell the world… or me.
I guess after that, I realized it was my mission to continue his legacy. Not just because the world expected me to live up to my old man's name, but because I knew I had to live his dream.
What started as a childhood dream had now become something real. I had received a letter of acceptance to one of the universities where my old man used to hold his book signings. Now, everything felt possible—I could feel it.
Today was my last day of being just a dreamer. I was about to fulfill that dream. Tomorrow, I would be on my way to see the place, to check if everything I needed was truly there.
I had just graduated from high school, and if I'm being honest, I was over the moon.
Just as I was about to leave to celebrate with my mother at home, one of my friends approached me.
"Yo, Jack, please tell me you're coming to Amber's epic graduation after-party tonight?" Darren surprised me by throwing his arm around my neck.
I tapped his arm. "Man, I can't breathe." I wasn't lying—I really couldn't.
"Pfff, man up. So, are you coming?" He playfully tightened his grip.
"I'd like to, but I was planning on celebrating with my mom today. You know, since tomorrow I'm heading out to check the place. Then, before school even begins, I'm going across the world to find inspiration," I told Darren.
"Oh, come on, man. Don't be a party pooper. Ever since I've known you, I've never seen you have any fun. And if I'm being honest, you're starting to bum me out." Darren brushed my hair.
"I'm sorry—you'll live." I returned the favor.
"Plus, get this: how are you going to be a writer like your dad if you don't get out and experience stuff outside, huh?" Darren asked.
I looked at him. He did raise a good point. Even my old man had told me that in order to write about something—or someone—you first had to live it, experience it, or get into the mind of the character.
"Well, I guess I'll have to create something from the fickle of my imagination." I smiled at him.
He saw I wasn't going to be easily persuaded, so he turned to my mother.
"Come on, Mrs. Trick, you're with me on this one, right? This guy needs to have some fun once in a while." Darren took his shot.
He knew I wasn't going to agree, so his best plan was convincing someone who could convince me. Smart move—who knew jocks had working brains?
My mom looked at me, and while Darren wasn't watching, I tried to signal her not to let me go.
When she didn't immediately fold, Darren leaned closer and whispered, "The party I'm inviting him to is being hosted by the girl he's crazy about. And between you and me, I think she feels the same way."
Mom followed Darren's gaze and saw the girl he was talking about. She was standing with her friends, chatting, but when she noticed my mom, she waved hello.
My mom smiled and waved back.
I knew I had been betrayed.
"I think you should go," Mom said.
"Are you sure?" I really wished she'd say no.
"Yeah. It's not like you won't be coming back, right? We'll have our mother-and-son day tomorrow on our trip." She sounded genuinely happy.
"Alright. But I promise I'll be home soon," I told her.
"I know. Now go and have fun." She pulled me close and kissed my forehead.
"Okay, Darren. When does this party start exactly?" I asked.
"It starts now." He dragged me away.
The party was already in full swing, and I had to admit—it was really fun. I was having a great time with my friends, my classmates, but especially with Amber, the girl I secretly liked. Well, I thought it was a secret. Apparently, everyone knew.
We played all kinds of games—one minute in the closet, truth or dare, and many matchmaking games that, now that I think about it, were mostly focused on me and Amber.
The party got better by the second. We ordered pizza, danced around, and even the DJ was in on it. Just as everyone was dancing, he suddenly switched the music to a slow, classic tune.
People paired up, dancing to the rhythm—some with partners, others with their crushes.
I was the only one standing alone on the dance floor… or so I thought.
Out of nowhere, Amber walked toward me. I had to admit—she looked beautiful.
"Well, aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she said, taking my hand.
I was completely thrown off. Just moments ago, she was dressed casually, and now she was wearing a dress.
"Wow… you look beautiful," I said, hoping I didn't sound awkward.
"Thank you. And I know. Now stop wasting my time and let's dance." She pulled me toward the center of the floor.
Everyone made space for us, opening the floor just for the two of us. It felt like they could read my mind. We danced the night away.
Eventually, the party ended, and everyone went home. Amber was about to clean up the mess by herself, so I decided to stay and help.
"Hey, what should I do with these dishes I just finished washing?" I said, startling her.
"Jesus!" She jumped in fright, spilling the bowl of punch she was holding all over me.
"Well, that's a nice way to finish my graduation day," I joked as I wiped the sticky liquid from my face.
"Oh, I'm so sorry—let me help." She placed the empty bowl on the counter and rushed over.
"It's your fault—you scared me," she said as she tried wiping the punch off me.
"I'm sorry. I mean, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady clean all by herself?" I smiled.
She was clearly charmed, though she tried to hide it.
"So how can I make it up to you?" she asked.
"Since I'm going to smell like this all night, how about you either kiss me right now… or agree to go on a proper date with me?" I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
We were just about to kiss when she pulled back.
"First, I need to get a cloth. I can't have my first kiss with my boyfriend while he looks like this."
"Oh? So I'm your boyfriend now?" I asked.
"Well, isn't that what you wanted?" she replied.
"I won't agree that easily," I teased.
"Fine. Wait here while I get a wet cloth." She walked away.
As I watched her disappear from sight, I don't know what happened.
I don't remember anything.
I only heard something go off.
And then I was consumed by the explosion.
Just like that…
I died.