Online Trolls

By Matthew Dewar

Timmy is one viral video away from becoming the next big superstar. But when his videos are targeted by jealous online trolls, his dreams feel like they're slipping away.  

Suspicious that the online trolls are the bullies from his school, Timmy attempts to expose them, uncovering a terrible secret instead: they

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Dewar
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9780648079965

Matthew Dewar

Matthew lives in Perth, Western Australia, where a chance encounter with a victim of a monster attack changed the course of his life. When he's not investigating and writing about the terrifying monsters and creatures that share this world with us, you might find him working as a physiotherapist, teaching group fitness classes, entertaining his dogs, baking in the kitchen, or making the most of Perth's glorious weather. You can connect with Matthew online: Website: www.nightmarestories.com.au Facebook: Matthew Dewar Author Twitter: @WriterDewar Instagram: @nightmarestories_books

Book preview

Online Trolls

Matthew Dewar

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For information, contact:

https://www.matthewdewar.com.au

Text Copyright © 2024 Matthew Dewar

All rights reserved

Book Cover Design Copyright © 2024 Matthew Dewar

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-0-6480799-6-5

ONE

Timmy! Clap, clap, clap. Timmy! The energy in the arena was electrifying. Sixty thousand people chanted his name while they waited for him to perform. His manager told him to wait a little longer and let the suspense build. Hyped didn’t begin to describe how he felt in this moment. Sometimes he forgot how extraordinarily amazing his life was. He was only twelve and yet he was one of the biggest pop stars in the world. He was living his dream!

A crackle of static buzzed in his ear before his manager’s croaky voice said, You’re on. 

The curtain lifted and Timmy welcomed the deafening applause and cheers. His cheeks ached from smiling so hard. People in the front row screamed when he made eye contact with them. Squinting past the bright spotlights, he tried to read all the signs that his fans had made, but there were too many to acknowledge them all.

He glanced over his right shoulder, locked eyes with the drummer, and nodded.

And a one, and a two... The drumsticks clicked together as he counted. Waves of percussive energy rippled across the stage and through the crowd, silencing the arena. On the fourth count, Timmy performed his most recent number-one hit: Here I Am.

He had written these lyrics about his experience bursting out of the shadows and into the spotlight. From a nobody to a somebody. From a zero to a hero. His fingers strummed the electric guitar strapped to his body as if they had never done anything except make the most inspiring music. The audience was in a trance, singing and jumping to the beat. They loved him!

Come on now mate, have you honestly been practicing every day? Pete, his guitar teacher asked. His disappointment pulled Timmy from his fantasy and spat him out into the beige living room. From spotlight to shadows. From a somebody to a nobody. From a hero to a zero.

Your chords are clumsy, and your timing’s off. Pete shook his head, and some of his long hair fell into his eyes. I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were a dedicated student.

Embarrassment prevented Timmy from looking his teacher in the eye. He was dedicated. He had practiced. But he wanted to be a star. Learning how to tune a guitar and pluck a string on repeat was a far cry from his dreams of playing sold-out world tours and filming Netflix documentaries about his life.

One more chance, Pete warned with a raised finger. That’s all I’m giving you. Do you know how many other kids wanted this? Remember what you promised me? The contract you signed?

Yes, Timmy sighed. He remembered it well. Pete was the music teacher at school, and every year he offered free music lessons to the kids whose families couldn’t afford them. Timmy applied for the program, promising to practice at least fifteen minutes a day. But he should have made Pete sign a contract too. There was clearly a reason why he taught guitar instead of headlined world tours. He might look the part of cool guitar superstar, with ripped black jeans, tattoos of song lyrics up his arms, and long unruly hair, but there was no passion for music in his soul. No spark of joy in his eyes.

I’m not teaching you anything new until you master your chord changes. Pete stood and carefully packed his guitar in its case. You’ve got a week, or our lessons are done. Understood?

Timmy clenched his jaw. Emotions ran wild under his skin. He was equally as ashamed and disappointed in himself for failing his teacher as he was angry at Pete for not being a good enough teacher in the first place. Forcing the words out, he muttered, Understood.

Pete left, guitar slung over his shoulder like a wannabe country star on a tacky movie poster. Mum came in seconds later grimacing. Oven mitts covered her hands. That was rough.

A lump formed in Timmy’s throat. Me? Or what Pete said?

Mum cocked her head to the side. Both? She made it sound like a question, like something she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say. She removed her oven mitts and raked her fingers through her wavy brown hair before sitting next to Timmy. It’s strange for me to hear you play beautifully during the week and then fumble in your lessons. What's going on?

He shook his head. It’s Pete. He keeps wanting me to do all the boring stuff. I can learn a song and play it really well, but he doesn’t care about that.

Mum chuckled. Her green eyes caught the light and sparkled. Don’t you think that’s the point of a teacher? To make you better at everything, not just the thing you’re already good at?

Timmy sighed. Are you sure we can’t afford proper guitar lessons?

That sparkle in her eyes disappeared. Her lips pulled tight, and her voice came out soft but strained as if the words caused her pain. You’re getting proper guitar lessons.

No, I mean from someone better than Pete. Timmy repositioned himself on the couch. It seemed no matter where he sat, there was always a spring digging into some part of his body.

I’m sorry sweetie, but we can’t afford it. I know he’s tough on you, but he’s teaching you for free. We can’t complain about that. She picked up the oven mitts and stood, walking back to the kitchen. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.

I hope people aren’t actually paying him. He sucks, Timmy mumbled under his breath.

Mum spun around. Timothy Jones. That’s not nice, she scolded. I raised you better than that.

But it’s true. He sucks at teaching. I’ve learned more from watching videos on the internet.

Well, call him and quit. She tucked the oven mitts under her arm and pulled out her phone from her jeans pocket. I’m sure there’s plenty of other kids who would appreciate the privilege you want to throw away.

Fine. I’ll do it later. Timmy pulled the sleeves of his jumper lower to cover his wrists and hands. He didn’t want to quit. He was just frustrated that there was nothing better for him. He deserved so much more than a teacher without passion.

Mum scrolled through her contacts and then passed her phone to Timmy. Do it now.

He hovered his finger over the green phone icon then sighed and handed it back. She called his bluff. There was no other option. It was better to have a bad teacher that might still impart some wisdom one day, than no teacher at all. I’ll give him one more chance.

Mum nodded. Her lips pulled up into the briefest of grins and Timmy was infuriated that she had won their little battle. She scrolled a bit more and then her face opened into the biggest smile. Look at Georgia. She showed Timmy a video of his older sister on the uneven bars at her national competition on the Gold Coast. Dad’s professional photography skills were on display as the video shook and went in and out of focus. Georgia flipped and twisted and flew from high bar to low bar as if she weren’t even human. It was nothing he hadn't seen before.

I wish I could be there with them. Mum replayed the video as her eyes misted over.

Timmy chewed the inside of his lip. Both his parents loved Georgia more than him. It wasn’t just a melodramatic statement; it was an observable fact. Not only did they love her more, but they supported her more, too. If she needed a new costume, they bought it. If she needed a better trainer, they paid for it. If she needed physiotherapy for an injury, they picked up an extra shift to cover it.

Whereas Timmy wanted a guitar and he had to save up two years’ worth of birthday and Christmas money to buy one. He wanted lessons and he had to get the loser teacher who gave away sympathy lessons to poor kids. If he couldn’t buy it himself or get it for free, then he went without.

He was a superstar in the making and his parents treated him like a kid whose future involved cleaning toilets at the local fast-food restaurant. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but he was special, destined to be rich and famous beyond his wildest dreams. His parents were suffocating him. If he never became a superstar, then why was he born? What other purpose could he have?

Sometimes, Timmy wished he could cry. Would. Not Could. He could cry when he hurt himself. When he was in physical pain, tears poured out of his eyes, and that somehow made him feel better. But when his pain wasn’t physical, when it came from his feelings, the tears wouldn’t come, and neither would any relief.

Inside, he ached. Not from a broken bone or bleeding wound, but pain that grew with anger and frustration, fear and disappointment. It intensified right then as Mum continued scrolling through photos and videos of Dad and Georgia having fun. Dad cheering during her training. A montage of Dad and Georgia selfies at the theme parks. Eating giant ice creams together. Shopping at cool sports shops. As the hurt inside grew bigger, Timmy wanted to free it, but the tears wouldn’t come. He couldn’t release it. There was nowhere for it to go but spread deeper inside him.

He went to his room and opened his laptop. The battery didn’t work anymore, so it had to remain permanently plugged in. And if he ever turned it off it would take a billion years to turn back on again. As it was, he had to wait a good two minutes just to load an internet browser. He searched for guitar lesson videos until he found one he liked and started practicing alongside the onscreen teacher.

He only put his beloved guitar down to have dinner. The rest of the night was spent playing the song over and over until his fingers burned and he could play it from memory without any mistakes. He sounded incredible, like someone who’d been practicing his entire life.

That was perfect! Mum called out from the living room after his final run-through.

No thanks to Pete, Timmy mumbled.

He brushed his teeth and got into bed at Mum’s insistence, but as soon as she walked off, he logged onto his secret and technically illegal Instagram account on his phone. He scrolled through his feed, liking and commenting on all the new posts from his favourite celebrities and artists. He buzzed with excitement when they would reply to his comments, or better yet, respond to his private messages. Those interactions made him feel warm and fuzzy like he was already one of them. They pushed aside the pain inside him and filled his mind with dreams about his future fame and fortune.

There was a new video posted by one of his favourite musicians. Everyone knew Cody Price only posted on Fridays, so why was there a Tuesday post from forty-three minutes ago?

Hey everyone, I have some news. Cody was completely different to normal. Not in how he looked, though. He wore his usual tight black pants, black Converse sneakers, and an off-black old band t-shirt. He had a couple of colourful plastic bracelets around one wrist and his hair was big and fluffy. But his energy was different. Instead of looking almost bored, he looked excited, like a character in a TV show who wanted to scream from the rooftops.

"Big news." A smile broke out on Cody’s face that made Timmy grin too.

Cody glanced offscreen for a moment and then returned his attention to his audience, staring directly at Timmy through the camera. I’ve been wanting to share this with you for such a long time, but I’ve been forced to keep it a secret. Thanks for liking, sharing, and subscribing, it means so much. All that support has led to some of my recent videos going viral and, well, it’s happened! I’ve been picked up by a record label and I have an album coming out soon! His voice went squeaky high with excitement and then back to normal as he got into the finer details of his journey so far and what was next for him.

Timmy loved Cody. He thought Cody was a great singer and he wrote some amazing songs. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy who had worked hard and deserved a major record deal. Among all that happiness and pride for his friend, jealousy tainted Timmy's feelings. That ball of pain inside him grew a little bigger.

Timmy