He Who Weaves Nightmares | PUBLISHED (Available in Print and eBook Format)

Chapter 17 - Savoring Cheesecake

Chapter 17 – Savoring Cheesecake

Dreamer

"What's your story about?" Ice asked me. We had been talking about our plans this summer over dinner. I needed to find more ways to earn money and help mom with our daily expenses and upcoming school fees.

For now, I would splurge a bit.

I was looking at the cheesecake on display. It looked delectable, but I volunteered to pay for dessert and I needed to stretch my allowance throughout summer. Francis didn't see me mentally computing and went ahead and got the cheesecake. I didn't mind since I did say dessert was on me. I ordered a small brownie for myself. Ice looked at what I chose then picked a caramel bar. Good. I could afford that.

Francis slid back next to me and offered me a small slice of his cheesecake. I couldn't resist. Then he bit half of my brownie and grinned at me.

Ice who sitting in front of me took a bite of his caramel bar and nonchalantly asked again, "You mentioned we're celebrating your finished work. What is it about?"

I thought I caught Francis scowling at Ice, but when I looked at the kid, he was busy eating his cheesecake.

"I don't think it's your type," I answered, hoping Ice would stop at that and just finish his gooey bar so we could go. I was excited to head home and write my next chapter.

"What do you think is my type?" Ice asked. I never knew him to be this chatty before.

"Big bikes and robots? Big bikes transforming into robots?" I guessed.

"Not exactly," Ice responded.

"Hmm. Men carrying big guns?" I tried again.

"No," Ice replied as he sipped his water.

"I know," I said. He seemed the type. He found me lacking in that department the first time we met. "Women with big guns."

Francis laughed. Ice choked on his drink. Again. He was coughing so hard his lips started to turn blue. I reached out and wondered if I had to perform a Heimlich maneuver—I'd never done it before—but he waved my hand away and excused himself as he stepped outside.

"Will he be okay?" I asked Francis, worried.

"Yes. Ice just sometimes forgets he shouldn't drink through his nose."

I frowned, but Francis reassured me. "He'll be fine. If he's not back in a minute, I'll check on him."

Okay. Hopefully, Francis was right. Also, with any luck, Ice would let go of his question and call it a night. Even though I'd already conceived the entire plot and main characters for the series, I was still too shy to talk about it. I wasn't as verbose as most writers and I felt I wasn't doing whatever divine inspiration struck me justice. There was a lot to polish, but right now, I just wanted to get every idea recorded in case I slipped, bumped my head and acquired amnesia.

Years ago, I had told my dad I wanted to quit school and become a full-time writer. I had told him I'd sell my stories and take care of the family. Dad had just smiled at me and told me he supported me. Then he bought me my netbook.

Yes, my netbook was that old.

Anyway, I'd started working on a prologue for my first story. I had been so excited. I was going to be an amazing young writer and I didn't have to go back to Mr. Yancey's boring lesson on cell life and structure. I had not appreciated back then how contemporary approaches to genetics could be incorporated in a novel.

I had typed one line then just stared at the monitor for a good hour and a half. After surfing the net and watching music videos, I switched off my computer and told my dad that he and mom shouldn't quit their jobs yet.