"Possibliity of Peace" (standard:Inspirational stories, 1408 words)
Author: kickboxrko	Added: Jan 04 2003	Views/Reads: 3326/2131	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Story of a young, charismatic boy, who has high hopes for changing things in the future. Not making flying cars but changing the world in a bigger way. Much bigger. This is only the begaiining not even close to done. Chapters will be added.

Pablo Nunes lay in his bed. The sweet memories of his dream were even
now fading. He reached out and tried to grasp it, but it escaped him. 
His last vestige of the dream was an incomprehensible one. Shapes, 
sounds, faces. Lost in the swirl of the subconscious, he let it recede. 
He had been having these dreams for quite a while now, yet he still 
didn't understand them. Sometimes times they were purely symbolic, 
giving him numbers, signs, colors. They didn't make sense to him. But 
sometimes, his dreams had a reality feel. They seemed all too real. He 
fell into a world of sub-reality. When these dreams took him, he 
sometimes woke up, feeling lost,confused. It took a few seconds for him 
to regain his sense of reality. These dreams were...a hot iron being 
pressed into his mind. He remembered them clearly and vividly. These 
dreams, he did not forget. When the dreams started to repeat, he knew 
that somehow...they were trying to give him a message. 

He researched how dreams happen...how they work. He discovered there
were entire research laboratories dedicated to the study of these 
mysterious creations of the already mysterious mind. What he learned 
were only theories. There were no cold hard facts on the topic. 
Research after research failed to achieve anything conclusive. It was 
too deep to fully understand, but what he basically got was that the 
subconscious recorded things that the conscious looked past. When sleep 
comes, the sub-consciousness sends messages to the conscious and tries 
to remind us in a form of pictures or pure thought. So little was 
known, and Pablo's demands for information were not met. The brain is a 
perfect structure. It can store more memory then imaginable. If for 
example, we could Import the memory of a human who had gone through one 
lifetime, it would take a 12 story building to contain all the 
computers that would hold it. It was massive, yet so small. Some say, 
it could unlock the secrets of the world, the secrets of life. It would 
be the key, to unlocking the lock that is the universe. He shrugged it 
off and threw the sheets. Now was not the time, he had things to do. 
Pablo was different then most 16yrs old. 

He was far from average. He was blessed with escaping the notorious lazy
factor that fetters so many intelligent teens. Pablo could be called 
charismatic, but, due to how people viewed him, they never saw that 
side. Or if they did, it was subtle, or they didn't even realize it. He 
was also idealistic, and that didn't help him either. He didn't 
understand why people in the world....actually...people he knew...were 
so damn hard-headed. They saw the world in one way...they believed it 
to be their way and their way only. Anyway, he knew he was different. 
He was a loner, but he was far from being anti-social. He had a great 
sense of humor and knew how to get a party moving. But that didn't 
always happen. He had a rough childhood, and he had been broken and 
thrown away many times. He was always loyal to his friends, but they 
were not to him. They turned on him, and then expected things from him. 
They manipulated him, and this in turn led him to be suspicious of 
people. He didn't give his trust away easily anymore. 

Pablo was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Tourists knew it as a great
place to have fun, to stay at the beach, to relax. For Pablo, it was 
always hard. He grew up with his older sister, Andreas. They were 
close, they had to be. He watched her back, and she watched his. They 
both did things for each other, which the other one did not know about. 
Pablo would have taken a bullet for his sister, and he meant that. He 
grew up in a violent place, weapons of war were common. The many 
weapons that the soldiers on duty carried were familiar to him. They 
were always there, there presence was never forgotten. His country had 
a history of quick rises in government, and bloody takedowns. It seemed 
every time a new president came back, he was asasinated, and replaced. 
It was a bloody country, and times were always hard. He'd had many 
scraps and fights, yet till this day he hated violence. Because of that 
hate for violence, he still bears a scar. A scar he earned after taking 
a stand from fighting back. That day, he would never forget.... His 
friend, Jose, was always in trouble. He had a big mouth and couldn't 
keep it to himself. He offended a local gang leader with his way with 
words. He needed his friend Pablo to get him out of it. He could always 
count on him to lend a hand. And he was right in thinking so. Pablo was 
always there to help him. No matter the situation. But Pablo could also 
dissipate many situations too. But no matter what he could do, it 
wouldn't help him this time. Pablo and Jose were walking down the Main 
Street, a block or two from Jose's home. As Pablo and Jose turned a 
corner, they walked dead on to the gang's hideout. Jesus, the leader of 
the gang, caught them and shouted for them to stop. “Hey, where ya goin 


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