Alara's Challenge: Sibling Rivalry

by Matt Nute

DISCLAIMER: The wise sage knows only that he knows nothing. The wise writer
knows that he owns nothing. The wise archivist knows to ask permission. The
fool MSTies. All is good.




So they always liked you best. Everyone did. You, the "golden child". The
fair-haired perfect one. And me, the clumsy one, left in the shadows. You
always had them eating out of the palm of your hand, and I got the scraps and
the leftovers.

They loved you, and forgot me.

And I still remember the day when I dared to try and speak up, to DARE try and
outdo my "perfect" brother. I may not bear the scars physically, but the
emotional wounds are still raw. And to this day, your very memory is like
alcohol in them.

Then came the jungle. I left home, trying to get away. And you followed, never
able to pass up the chance to outdo me. At every turn, every glory I struggled
to obtain, you snatched from my grasp. Every bit of praise I would have
received, you stole. 

And finally, the fateful day came. I could take it no more. They placed you in
charge of me. "You take care of the screw-up," they said, "he's YOUR brother."


They couldn't even trust me to walk straight without your guidance. And how
you lorded it over me. Every day, scrubbing toilets and shining shoes for my
brother. Some people had their sympathy, daring to call you "bully". But their
words did nothing to save me. They only angered you more, subjecting me to the
brunt of your wrath.

Why was it not enough for you to be loved? You had to make sure that I was
hated. Even the very thought of me becoming more than a dog at your heels was
a blow to your ego. You had to be perfect, because that's what they told you
you were. 

Until yesterday.

Before dawn, before anyone else rose, I ran away. I didn't care about the
danger, I just had to get away from you. And if I died in the jungle, so be
it. At least I'd be free of you.

But of course, they sent you after me. And follow you did. Alone into the
jungle, you pursued your errant brother. Ready to show me up again. This was
your perfect chance to play the hero. I didn't care anymore. I was determined
that you wouldn't win. Not this time. No matter if they forever saw me as the
"bad" one, the "evil" brother, I'd be free.

So when I surprised you at those abandoned ruins amidst the vines, I admit, I
planned to kill you. 

Me. Murder my own brother. Before, the thought would never have crossed my
mind. But you pushed me too far, brother dear. 

Of course, I'd never been the physical one. You had all the football trophies,
the tennis cup, the blue ribbons. And you struck me, in every way I could be
struck. And when I fell from that ledge, I realized I'd lost forever. 

Almost in slow motion, I felt my head crack on the cold stone. I looked up and
I saw you standing there in front of that giant idol, the sunlight refracting
through that ruby. And you smiled, seeing me lying there. 

You smiled, because you thought I was dead. That you were finally rid of me.

I can't rightly say what happened then. Whether it was my anger, my raw rage
against you that did it; or maybe that fall knocked something finally RIGHT in
my brain. But it was like the world opened up to me. And in the midst of it, I
heard your voice. But not from your lips, frozen in mocking laughter. 

I heard it from your mind. You were remembering.

*Just like I killed my father*

You killed your own father. I knew it from your thoughts. Because he dared to
say that you were less than perfect. But I didn't know just that. I reached
into your mind, and I knew it all.

You cheated on your tests, making everyone think you were smarter.

You wasted your inheritance on drugs and booze, then blackmailed your way into
college.

You broke into a military personnel office to alter your test scores, to get
promoted faster.

My god, everything you had ever had in life, you stole. Including everything
that should have been mine.

Guess what, brother, it's all mine now. Because I know every one of your dirty
little secrets. I can read your mind like an open book. It was plain as day,
when I stood up, bleeding but laughing. I felt your fear. And when I looked
into your eyes, you knew.

I know everything. You're never going to get away with it again. From now on,
you're going to be MY puppet, brother dear. Your mind, your thoughts, your
very soul are mine.

At least I'm not exactly like my namesake. Cain KILLED his brother.

I'll let you live, Charles. 

After all, we're brothers.

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