Bob was having fever dreams until the healer was finally able to stabilize him. His uncle was not kind, which was probably the point. He was seeing visions of his life, himself, others around him, what could have been, what never was, and what never could have happened.

But mostly it was focused on the choices till now. He wasn’t as dumb as Pinky thought he was, or Bob knew Pinky thought he was. He always had anger management issues, he admitted bullying was an outlet. It was a ‘guilty pleasure’ if there ever was one. Bob would do nice things for people randomly, he liked being nice. But sometimes he just wanted to hurt people. He wanted them to feel pain so that his anger would go away. Pinky was good at that.

Pinky always had the best ideas. He always knew just how to make Bob not feel so mad. He was his left hand. He also stopped Bob from hurting anybody, that’s all that he was trying to do, but Bob wouldn’t stop. He saw his left hand start to choke him out, it was weird and didn’t hurt him at all, Bob just laughed. His Right hand, split into two, Trevor and Jeremy. Jeremy was as dumb as Pinky thought he was, possibly dumber. But that was fine, he was smart enough to know he was dumb and follow the smarter and more powerful people.

Bob thought to not think about what Littlefoot had become, some things were best not mentioned. Especially because his mom was in the middle of screaming at his uncle. He vaguely knew that his uncle just saved his life, the other Guards were going to kill him dead. Of course, they might have hauled him off to jail to await trial, they of course could have, but that was too much bureaucracy. One thing Bob did know was that Guards hated bureaucracy. Better to just kill him and have one sticky question than a hundred forms.

Bob looked across from himself to his Pink opponent. It was a floating Pink crystal. That damn Pink Mage. He was the cause of all his problems. Bob of course knew that wasn’t true. He was just the nail that wouldn’t go down. Oh you thought it did, but then you looked at it and it was just broken wood. You would try again and again, but never quite got it right. Everything else was perfect on his wooden chest but that damn pink nail just wouldn’t go in.

Bob was so proud of his chest, his mother had worked so hard on it. It was a Knight, it would start as a Squire, after he leveled it past a brawler. But now it was busted. He had used too much force. Now what was he going to do with these busted up pieces of statue.

The beautiful Knight statue was all in pieces around him. All his mother’s work, all his uncle’s work, even his father’s work. That vague amorphous figure looming over him. It was the laborer that had brought the marble from the quarry. His mother had spent her life as the artisan. His uncle had spent his fortunes as the merchant. They too were all broken statues left in the ruins.

He saw it than, a glorious army marching across the marble ruins. Crushing them underfoot. They crushed his father first. Then his uncle stepped in and was crushed. Then his mother stood there, a broken thing. She had a smile on her face, “It isn’t your fault. I hope no one blames you for this.” But Bob knew it was his fault, it was all his fault. He could have changed this, the army didn’t have to be marching over them. He could have been a part of this Army.

Instead, he was merely a stepping stone for them. He looked up at the valiant army charging at him. In the lead looking valiant and resplendent was the pink mage, his bane. By his side was his glorious and beautiful assistant Pepperoni. There was Trevor and Jeremy. There was Pinky and Littlefoot. There was Susan and everybody else from The Village. Even the village idiot was trampling him now.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He could have been one, but instead, he stood in their way. He was jealous of their little trinkets and wanted to steal them for himself. Instead, he had his precious stolen from him and would never get the cherry back on his desert.

He felt it then. Right when his cherry was stolen, and it was glorious. The energy flowed through him and felt amazing. He was happy for a time, then an old man’s face was in his. “Alright get up already, I wasn’t that bad was I?” Bob had to disagree, he was horrible. Bob felt sore everywhere even though it was just his butt that hurt.

Bob recognized this man, he was the village healer and a [Priest]. He had [Lesser God] given healing magic in return for spreading his particular gods word, and work. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing but this one was benevolent. That didn’t mean the [Priest]s were. “Alright he’s up and awake I want my gold.”

Bob’s Mother looked at his uncle with worry. Bob’s healing couldn’t be cheap and it would put the tavern deep into the red. Bob idly wondered if his uncle wasn’t too severe when he saved his life. Then he remembered that his uncle had never gone back on a promise he made to him. The man would never go back on a promise unless it conflicted with another promise. And then he would go with the obvious choice between who was more important in his life.

Apparently that also applied to the not so good promises. Bob didn’t blame his uncle. He did blame that [Pink Mage] prick but he knew it wasn’t his fault. When he had announced his discovery the system had given him the [Achievement]. But when the two [Claim]s were contested his lost. The village didn’t have the rights to contest it even though they tried. But the [Kingsmen] had firmly denied his [Claim] losing it.

Bob of course was furious, he had earned it. But he did realise somewhere deep in him that he didn’t earn it as much as the other two. Now he had tried to strike that [Nail] and it cost him. Bob then tried to think of why he was thinking of [Nail]s.

Whatever, Bob laid there as his mother fussed at him. His uncle was being shoved around by the woman and didn’t seem to mind. He always had a soft spot for family. It was why Bob always thought he had his back. In may ways he did, Bob knew that uncle Mathew was going to be in deep shit for what he had done. He was going to have to pull in some favors. Nothing life ending but not something he could do again.

Bob also knew he had gone to far. He felt he could succeed if he just pushed a little more. It didn’t work and now he was in this mess. Well at least he wasn’t going to die. Bob remembered the first time he ever felt the fear of death. His father was there, he had just fallen out of a tree after chasing a cat up it. His dad died the next day. Bob felt he didn’t have the right to cry after that. It was stupid but Bob felt that his dad died because he was paying for saving his life. Of course his life hadn’t really been in danger it had just felt like it at the time. But young Bob did not know this, and it had stuck with him all this time.

Bob slept off his treatment. He would be stuck in bed for some time. He would need to keep up these treatments while he was stuck in a wheelchair. Eventually, he would be able to walk with a walker and finally a cane. So he might as well sleep it off. It would be a nice break from killing monsters or fighting kids.

Then Bob’s mother died. And Bob knew it was his fault again. The village blamed the [Pink Mage] but Bob knew it was his. The guards themselves had proclaimed it. Even his uncle had said so, if in a way that made it sound like it was his uncles fault. Every word was louded with a guilt to Bob. He caused this. He killed his own mother, why?

Bob took over the pub after that. There wasn’t much he could do anyway and the pub needed to be run for the town. Sure the staff knew what to do, but how long would that last?

Then he saw his guilt personified looking through the door. His mother’s last words had told him not to blame the kid, and Bob did not. He blamed himself. It was all his fault and he couldn’t look at it. He didn’t want it standing before him. He wanted his guilt to go away. He had taken to drinking the hard stuff just to keep from thinking about it. But how was he to forget it when it stood there looking at him?

Bob said “You’re not welcome here, leave.” and his uncle took his problems away. “Come on kid, let’s get out of here.”