Two Worlds - The Secrets Within (Book One)

Chapter I

Blood streams, people falling to the ground.. Dying, innocent animals rotting on the spot, random bullets flying everywhere, bombs exploding, knives being thrown by thin air, clown faces creeping around.
Timmy tried as hard as he could to wake himself up, but his mid evil mind kept him squirming in his bed, the covers crumpled up near the wooden stable at the end, leaving Timmy shivering and fighting with his own imagination.
Even though Timmy could do actual actions a person would do when awake, or awoken, he didn't dare try, his mother would be awakened by the thrashing of his bed, and his father would probably become worried sick at what Timmy was experiencing every night and everyday. Although his parents could never find out of course, or else Timmy's secret will be out, and everyone knows gossip spreads like a wild fire. Even if people started finding out, they would regret it miserably.
Thus, it's only Timmy's mind doing this terrible damage to the boy, his thoughts are nothing like others. They can force the poor boy to do things he will regret for the rest of his life, but it isn't his fault. His life is either controlled by his Good World which he barely meets at night, or his Bad World where nightmares are born. Timmy can never escape his nightmares. In fact, he even met the Golden Rope soldiers in a dream one night, and they told him that if he even tried to fight back, they would stab his heart. Golden Rope soldiers are demons, dragons, and devils in one breed. They hold silver and iron spears made with poison at the tip to make people die immediately. In their hands they hold the key of dark magic that is locked in a solid gold cage that is impossible to break through. Even though Timmy is clueless when they spoke this, he promised them he would never do anything like this.
In each of his two worlds they fight to see who controls the boy each day. During this long period of time, Timmy would always feel sick to the stomach, which his parents worry much, while his classmates and teachers care less about what Timmy does. Even when the boy goes to the nurse to go home, she always sends him back without even sticking a thermometer in his mouth to check for a fever.
No one cares about Timmy, they thinks he's a worthless boy who shouldn't exist. Although that is far from true. Timmy's dream mind is a blessing. Although his nightmare world is a curse. Two total opposites that are forced into one mind, can make that one person suffer. Poor Timmy has suffered for six years straight.
When the boy was born, he didn't cry. He wasn't breathing. They thought he was dead even though he wasn't. He was being given the dream world and the nightmare world which prevented him from breathing. During this rather long period of time, Timmy was in a dream. Not a normal dream though. A Goddess Dream. This kind of dream was only made for Timmy, since he was given the power. A Goddess Dream is a type of dream where there's a beautiful meadow full of angels and unicorns galloping peacefully through the grass, while the other side is filled with darkness, horror, and death. He was transported into the first world, the Good World, for two days, which was two hours in the dream and then he was transported into the Bad World for two more days, which once again was two hours in the nightmare.
Timmy only experienced the pain for six years, so for the last four years he's been having wonderful, magical dreams, until the nightmare world finally gained power which toke five years to maintain.
Doctors waited and waited everyday, the boys parents crying, and Timmy still in his coma. After the four days passed and he awoke, he felt like he was drowning. When he realized where he was, he breathing in and out heavily like an actual child, not a baby. His breathing was low, and he was frantically fighting for breath.
Doctors started rushing in and out of the emergency room, doing tests on him and trying to figure out why he didn't breath. Although Timmy's two new worlds fought together to prevent them from ever finding out. While doing this, Timmy felt much better and calmed down a bit since they were teaming up with him and defending him by fighting together even though they wanted to blast or explode each other's worlds.
To this day on Timmy has had breathing disorders and kidney stones at only the age of ten which never happens, and is extremely dangerous for the young boy.
After a long period of time, Timmy finally woke up. His face was dripping from sweat, his breathing was heavy and rasping, and he had black pockets under his bottom eyelids. He coughed and chocked and stumbled out of bed. Almost immediately, the boy fell to his knees. He leaned his head over and spilled out a sticky puddle of blood on the already stained red, white carpet.
Everyday this would happen to Timmy. The poor boy became pale from this day to day blood lose, more like white.
The boy groaned in pain and stumbled in his bathroom. His knees failed him, making him fall to the floor in front of the toilet. He weakly lifted the seat and threw his head a couple inches inside, letting the red, gooey fluid rush out of him.
A couple seconds later, he slammed the toilet seat down and pushed himself on top of it, slumped his back and sighed heavily.
After a couple minutes Timmy finally recovered. He stood up weakly, and limped over to the sink. He glanced at himself in the glistening mirror. He groaned as he gazed at the hideous sight. His cherry red hair was flopping to the side, sticking up like he rubbed a balloon against his head, his lips were pure red from the icky lipstick like substance, his eyes were faded, dull and drooping out of their sockets, and his gray shirt was stained with splattered blood that looked exactly like red paint.
The boy strolled out his bathroom and out his bedroom door. He slumped down the hallway and reached the white carpeted stairs.
When Timmy reached the bottom of the steps, he strutted past downstairs hallway and into the kitchen. His mother was near the stove, cooking fresh eggs and crunchy bacon.
"Hey Mom." Timmy greeted drowsily, walking over to the gray, uncomfortable couch and grabbed the television remote.
The boys mom, Rebecca Shay, glanced up from washing the dishes, then gazed back down at the sink.
"Hey sweetie. How'd you sleep?" She asked politely, still busily doing her work. Timmy shrugged his shoulders and sighed heavily.
"Oh, breakfast's ready. Go get your father, hon." His mother stated, getting her pink spatula and scooping eggs into white, plain, plates.
"No thanks." Timmy shrugged, slumping back into the cushions of the couch. His mother looked up from placing the bacon with the eggs, her spatula in one hand, and a plate in another.
"That wasn't a question, Timothy." His mom scolded sternly, going back to her business. The boy groaned as he heard his mother speak him by his first name. He weakly stood up, and strolled over to the back door. He twisted the knob, and slowly slumped through, going down the creaky steps and walking over to his fathers old shack.
His father, Philip Shay, owned a hardware store near Spindleton. Where he made his mechanical stuff was at the old, rotten shack that was already worn down when the family bought the house.
"Dad breakfast is ready." Timmy yelled as he heard the loud clacking of his fathers saw against wood.
His father was dressed in jean overalls that were dusty and tired out, with a white shirt that had brown splatter marks here and there. He was wearing his clear, dirty safety googles with his blue farmer gloves on his hands.
"Dad!" Timmy screamed as loud as he could. All of a sudden, the saw stopped doing its work.
"What, son?" His father asked, chipping off some wood from the plank with a metallic knife.
"Mother has breakfast ready." Timmy explained, leaning against their boring wood fence. His father nodded and kept scraping pieces of wood from his thin plank of wood.
"Be there in a second, kid. How 'bout you go help your mother set the table, eh?" His father questioned, taking out his electric drill and forcing it into the splintering wood, making tiny holes on either ends.
Timmy sighed heavily as he jogged back into his cherry brick home. He slowly slumped through the doorway of the kitchen and sat back down on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest.
"Where's your father?" A familiar voice muttered sternly. Timmy glanced over at where the voice was coming from. In front of him stood his mother in her neatly, man-made, knitted blouse with a bright pink color, a sewed black skirt, and black flats. Her golden hair was up in a messy bun with ruby red lipstick painted on her lips. She had a rare gold pin with two swords inter fearing each other, making a cross.
"He's coming in soon, mother." Timmy explained, leaning his back into the couch once more. He felt fingers around his arm and a sudden burst of strength pull him off the pointy searing area. He turned around and saw his mother again.
"Don't be a lazy looper. Help me set the table young man!" Timmy's mother demanded, waving her finger all up in his face. Timmy rolled his eyes as he strolled away to the kitchen counter. He opened different drawers, looking for place mats, silver forks, spoons, knives, plates, and wine glasses. He shoved his hand through the supplies, digging through trying to find what he needed.
When so, he raced back over to their dining table. It was a round, black, thick piece of wood. It had three chairs bordering the outside, for the boy, his mother, and his father. The young boy placed down a couple of place mats that were gently stitched with white cotton and silver silk made by his mother when she was just a girl. There were weird designs plastered everywhere almost. Flowers sprouting, clouds floating, trees swaying.. Nature.
Timmy then placed down the silver spoons, forks, and knives with the glassy, metallic plates, eyeballed in the middle of the mats.
The boy dusted off his hands in triumph, and then positioned them on his hips as he smiled slightly. He admired his work, thus he never felt so happy. Even though it was just setting the table, the boy thought it was quite fun.
He skipped over to his porch, swinging the door open and trotting over to a patch of roses, daisies, and lilacs.
He picked a couple of each, then trotted back inside his humble home. He threw his body into the dining room, and placed the flowers neatly in a glassy, metallic, purple and green vase.
Timmy slapped his hands together, making the dirt and dust fly in different directions. He smiled widely.
This was defiantly not normal for the boy. He never is this hyper-active with decorating the house, his room, nothing. But today, he felt different.
Timmy felt like he could be that cow, pouncing over the moon in a dark night sky.
The boy didn't really know how this was happening, he was suspecting his angels were forcing him to do this, but Timmy open-mindedly knew that was scarcely possible. But he had some hope since he was.. Ecstatic.
Although, the boy didn't have time for a debate with his thoughts, so he forced them to the back wall of his head.
He raced back over to the scrawny couch, pummeling down on top of it, making feathers explode all around.
As soon as Timmy was leaning deep into the cushions, his thoughts toke the better of him. He blacked out, his eyes gradually shutting, his breath easing down, his muscles relaxing.
He was in a dream. He was spawned behind a delicious blueberry bush. Tiny pink flowers were dotted in the leaves, making the bush welcoming and happy. Although, the other half of the bush was dead and crinkled with dry leaves.
Huh, Timmy thought, that's strange.
But instead of rotting on that dead side, he sprouted on the delicious growing berry side.
He plucked a fresh, damp berry and popped it in his mouth.
As he bit down, the blueberry bursted into his mouth, giving that sweet, syrupy taste to it. This was one of the best blueberries he has ever had. Maybe where he was wasn't so creepy as he thought.
Thus the boy was hiding, he made the courageous decision to slowly make his way from his hiding place. As soon as he lifted a muscle, he gasped in amazement.
The border between his two worlds was right in front of him.
As he toke a few steps, he glanced down at the ground. There was a long line sprinkled of coal dust all along the ground, till it halted at the tall, stone wall. The wall had vines jogging across the gray surface, with cracks and spiderwebs.
He spun around, eyeing the bush carefully. To his amazement, it was the ancient goddess bush named after Ahlem, God of the ancient Bionics. This bush is one million and seven years old. It's name is Hastoneek Bush of Life.
The name is rather true. Both worlds must protect this plant. It is the function of Timothy Blair Shay. If it dies, so does the boy and his dream creatures.
Timmy doesn't actually know that this bush is his heart in his dreams. So basically the boy has two hearts. His heartbeat echoes through his body, shoots up his spine into his brain making the plant repeat the pump. So all creatures have access to the precious plant.
It hasn't even rotten once, except for the dark side. The rotten part of the plant is the side where he can't control his temper, his demon deep deep down. When that monster takes over Timmy's body, Timmy's mind is full of bloodshed. Whatever Timmy imagines that is made, the Damien Demon, the son of the most powerful Golden Ropes, makes him do.
The air in the Bad World almost kills every living things immediately, except for their dark, evil creatures.
Timmy gazed from side to side at each of his worlds, noticing now how magical and wonderful his Good World is, as tiny little elephants and giant snow white horses leap around in the tropical forest, little butterfly's flapping, birds chirping, people dancing.
While the Bad World has knives implanted along the surface, Golden Ropes standing guard at the Mortimer Castle of Death. The castle has the dark magic deep underground locked in that solid gold cage of theirs, with a key hidden somewhere far, far away from death and life.
The magic is what controls murder, drown, buried alive, disease, even cannibalism deaths. It is the most powerful of every living thing on Earth. Thus Timmy doesn't know it, he is more powerful than anything. Even though he's a small, tiny weakling who can barely lift a pound, he is the key to life,
and death.