I couldn't believe the experience I had.

I took careful aim at the basket, aware of how my warm breath turned into vapor as it made contact with the cold air around me. With a steady release, I watched the ball glide through the frigid breeze, following its trajectory as it sailed toward the hoop. The ball found its target flawlessly, landing right in the center of the net. The thrill of successfully making that three-point shot entirely by myself was exhilarating.

The girl with the golden hair, witnessing this small triumph, quickly retrieved the ball and threw it back at me. "How is the game so far?"

"It's awesome, I can't explain it! You don't have an idea what this means to me."

But the miraculous burst of energy began to fade. As I crossed the five-minute mark, I could feel the vigor that had fueled me, gradually diminishing. A sense of heaviness started to return to my legs, a familiar and disheartening reminder of my usual state.

"What's going on?" I said, noticing I wasn't able to move my legs.

Realizing that my extraordinary burst of energy was fading faster than expected, I felt a wave of panic within me. "Wait, please, just a little longer!"

The girl with golden hair opened the wrapper of her candy and ate the lollipop in one bite. "I have very little time left. I'll whisper to your parents that you need help."

"No! Please wait!"

As quickly as she had appeared, the girl with the golden hair vanished, taking with her the miraculous energy she had bestowed upon me. In a matter of moments, the extraordinary vitality I had been experiencing, evaporated. I found myself collapsing onto the cold, hard surface of the basketball court, my body rendered immobile once again.

Only a minute after the mysterious girl had vanished, my dad came rushing out to the court, his expression flooded with confusion and surprise.

"Samuel!"

He immediately noticed my shivering and wrapped his arms around me in an attempt to provide some warmth. "You're freezing! How on earth did you end up out here in the middle of the night?!"

I found myself at a loss for words in response to my father's question. The events of the night had left me in a state of confusion, struggling to separate reality from what seemed like an incredible dream.

But amidst the confusion and the surreal nature of the night's events, one thing stood clear and undeniable in my heart. The encounter with the strange girl, mysterious as it was, had been the best thing that had ever happened to me in a long time.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The next morning, I awoke to the gentle touch of sunlight streaming through my window, its rays softly warming my face. As I attempted to move, I realized the warmth in my bed wasn't just from the sun; it was also from the presence of my parents, who had fallen asleep around me. They must have been worried that I might attempt another midnight escapade and try to attempt another game of basketball.

I remained thoughtful, still wondering about the events of the previous night. They seemed almost too surreal to believe. Yet, the vivid memory of playing basketball, those exhilarating five minutes, were undeniably real.

The movement of my mother stirred me from my thoughts. She shifted, inadvertently pulling the blanket away from me. A strand of hair fell across her face, brushing her lips. Startled, she quickly changed position, her eyes instinctively searching for me.

"Sammy. Are you ok?"

I greeted my mother with the biggest smile I could muster. A part of me wondered if she would ever believe the extraordinary story of what really happened last night if I were to tell her. But before I could dwell on that thought further, my father suddenly stood up from the bed.

Glancing at his watch, he jumped up in a rush, quickly exiting the room as if reminded of something urgent.

"Where is Dad going in such a hurry?"

My mother turned towards me, replying to my question with a smile. "Today is the 1st and it is Friday. Remember what happens every other Friday?"

"It's time to go shopping?"

I already knew the answer to her question. Part of me hoped that my dad's haste was due to an exciting outing planned for us. It was indeed a day out, but not the kind of exhilarating adventure I had hoped for.

My father enters the room, fixing his shirt, and holding a toothbrush inside his mouth. "You have an appointment with the doctor, Sammy. these will be the final tests."

The excitement of the previous night's adventure had momentarily made me forget about the realities of my health situation. Being reminded of the doctor's appointment brought me back to those realities. While the idea of leaving the house wasn't particularly bothersome, the thought of what awaited me at the doctor's office was less appealing. The frequent blood tests, the phrase I had grown to dread — "we need another sample of his blood" — echoed in my mind. It was a part of my routine that I particularly disliked.

I became weary of the discomfort in my arms so much, that I waged a battle against those needles. I made things difficult for my parents whenever they started to get prepared to make another trip to the hospital.

"It's cold outside. I have to warm up the van." My father said.

"Go on, sweetie. I will be ready soon."

I had a strong aversion to each trip to the doctor, unwilling to have my arms touched once more. However, as time passed, the illness became stronger than my determination to stand up for myself.

It felt like you were a passenger in your own body, watching someone else determine what you'll do without your consent, every day of your life.

That morning, my legs refused to cooperate. My arms lacked the strength to support my body's weight, and suddenly, much like lightning striking a tree, the need to use the bathroom became extremely important.

"I have to use the bathroom. Is urgent, please."

Grasping the situation, my mother shouted from my room, "Ray, we need your help!"

He quickly made his way around my bed in response to my request. He lifted me and carried me out of my room and into the hallway.

My father was in his late forties, and my mother was seven years younger than him. He would always make the arrangements for me, whenever I needed to shower or use the bathroom. Typically, I could wait until I reached the toilet, but that particular morning, I couldn't hold it any longer. The sensation came abruptly, and I ended up losing control while in my father's arms.