To my review (shit! I have reviewers) What Farla wrote did not effect my long hiatus, it just pointed out something I knew I maybe didn't point out earlier.

I am aware my writing basically fails in grammar and so on, but unlike many others on here with the same problem I choose to actually listen when people say: "Oh your grammar is wrong, here's what you shall do..."

I like writing, I want to publish a book but realise I have a lot to do because that dream can become true. So if you have any suggestions, crit, anything I would love it. And I shall come back to fixing these flaws that I can change in time, when things die down where I live.

On to the next chapter.

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Once I had a brother, he was born sixteen years ago. Home born. In the rush of family and home doctors.

They called him Ashton.

I didn't care.

Accept when I saw his face. His eyes like my fathers, and the same coloured strands of hair.

I remember being so hurt back then, my childhood mind somehow coming to the conclusion that Delia was at fault. Some how, by her will she made the baby before me the living image of my father while I was the sight of everything all my family hated. They cradled Ashton, babbled over him selfishly and if he would have lifted a finger they all would have jumped.

So of course I rejected him.

Said some hurtful things, and now it was all hitting me back.

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Dad never married again, he kept in touch with Delia for a little while and I guess it failed.

We grew with each other in the way we should in the first place. And for those long wonderful years it had never hit me I had a brother living his own life. Not spoiled not coddled over and as any other boy should have any more. All the feelings of jealously began to fade with time. And they all crumbled when I sat there watching him on TV.

My spoiled brother was on the screen, yelling to his rebelling Charizard to battle. Watch it stand stubborn, and lost the battle.

That was a five years ago.

I could have visited once.

Five years I thought to, but any step I took to it I remembered something, a harsh word, and insult, a slap from childhood then came to the conclusion why should I even try.

So there he was before my eyes, grown and not so little any more and he stood scared.

I was a horrible person.

I didn't deserve to be his brother.

So what did I do, I ignored him. Pretended he didn't exist and hoped to on my way so I had an even better chance of forgetting it all. Checked the next trains timetable and hoped I ran, I spent the night and early hours of the morning watching pointless late night shows until my mind stopped being restless and let me sleep.

The trains stopped moving because of a natural hazard.

It were as if Ho-oh itself had gotten bored of my avoidance and moved fate that we had no choice but to confront it all. My money ran low and even if I had called dad for an extra bit to pay for a few more days until transport was available I would need somewhere to stay until it came through, and dad knowing me well would not do so until I had someone safe to keep myself.

This eventually pushed me to find somewhere, no matter how stubborn.

I fiddled with the change in my pocket and wondered if I could brave the elements with no proper equipment and make it out alive.

Then I laughed. In was never a nature man.

I fiddled the thought of going to my brother. Just fiddled, didn't ever think it would happen, just had a stray thought when I was too hungry to block the thought of him out. Perhaps he would actually forget our previous years and try not to stab me in my sleep a bitter part of me began, and I couldn't help but agree.

Then I actually thought of calling dad and saying: "Hey I have no one to look after me so how about we call the wicked witch- I mean aunty Yuki to help me out so am not in a body bag."

Then I realised anyone in my family who wasn't dad just saw my mother not me.

Which wasn't too surprising. I had found a picture of her and noticed we looked alike. I had her red hair and her lighter skin tone, I had her eye shape, her strong chin, my hair was curly and short as hers was and other features that made,me quite a feminine boy growing up. Dad's features kick in more than before, I smile his smile, laugh his laugh and frown his frown and standing next to him mum's features are faint, faint not gone.

Sometimes there still is a part of me that doesn't like that.

But was going to promise not to linger on that any more.

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Ho-oh was persistent. If the subject of the brother came up again in this book I would throw it at something or either cook it over the fire of its front and back covers.

And me being so hungry I probably enjoy it.

So tenth page I threw the thing and just sat by the wall, banging my skull against it in hope it did something other than remind me of my brother. Which lead me to the thought that before, seeing other boys with their younger brothers, watching films or just passing them never triggered me to be like this. If it had gotten even close this I pushed myself away from it all and it would never come up for a long time. I wondered if it was because he had seen me, I found I wanted to learn so much about him even after I told myself I never needed to. I wanted to know what his favourite colour, Pokemon, show, book. What did he dislike and what did he like, how was he now and what was his mother doing.

I wondered if she had ever forgiven me for being such a brat with her, to her son.

My stomach grumbled. My nations were running short so I had to stretch to much for my liking. Two weeks, and food for 5 days. Not good maths.

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Day three of nations got boring because there was nothing to do in the area that didn't need money, I ate day fours rations and told myself I could drink water if my stomach grumbled the next day. I swear I heard somewhere it said you can last on water for a day or something.

The Ho-oh destined book sat in corner and collected dust. The sun shone though my hotel window and I sighed.

I thought of his fearful eyes again.

I played with small plates of lunch and diner, licked crumbs for fun and sung songs that echoed boredom and watched the day go on, minute by minute.

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Next day I nibbled day fives rations and tried a walk to stop my mind from going places I didn't like. I tried this until my mind wondered so I started to jog in fields, then tried a sprint a long hard one which smartly left me gasping for breath later.

So I collapsed on the field, knackered, hungry and tormented.

Woke up two hours later and walked back to the hotel. Then realised how tired I was a fell asleep right as I hit my bedroom floor.

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I actually woke up at 3:30 next day, ate that day's breakfast lunch and dinner.

And just walked. I walked paused to break and I thought of my family again, pulled my dead feet another 10 minutes of so and repeated this process until none of my body could take it any more and dropped to the same field as before.

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I woke up to cooking, voices speaking about his awake in hushed voices about me awakening and a bitter part of me wondered if they were going to eat me.

So when I opened, my eyes and saw a kind looking man a few years younger than me my thoughts were killed. I was going to live to see my thirtieth.

"Surprisingly I don't do this often." I began as we made eye contact.

"Thank goodness for that, its safe to say you haven't been eating enough for your heath."

Usually am rebellious at any comment that involve me doing wrong, whether right or wrong but a part of me had to agree but the reason was out of my control.

"Couldn't help it, the trains were on a cancellation." see I held back on the bite, I was being a good boy.

"I'll give you that, a lot of people who using them find themselves in a bit of a pickle."

"Then why pick on me?"

"Because there inside keeping to themselves not running aimlessly when they barely have the food to support that energy use."

True. I was beginning to hate that tone of voice the one that you use with young children.

"Sure." I began "But your not my mother neither my father so don't speak to me like you are." I pulled myself off the ground and smelted the wonderful smell of food. I had to get out of there.

"Are you hungry?"

"Brock!" Another voice called out.

"Dawn we mustn't be rude, he is a guest and we never refuse them food." There it was that parent never to be questioned tone but unlike me it worked on her. She said nothing else.

I turned to the younger man, his expression level, perhaps he had dealt with dealing with the stubborn because his gaze was questioning me to refuse something he knew I would need. I rose an eyebrow in question, I wondered if he knew how stubborn I truly was...

"Al right, what you serving then?"

I decided to stay for a bit, my stomach sung in relief.

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Writing Sydney is fun, yes I am aware of flaws and so on, wouldn't mind you telling me and improvements.