My Brain Trembles Novels & Stories

My mind replays the moment, and my hands tremble slightly. I tighten my grip until the shaking stops, but the awareness lingers.​

Victor walked in and out of frame twice, probably doing a routine check. Twenty minutes passed. Still nothing. I poured coffee from the machine beside my desk, making sure it was black and bitter. Black and bitter coffee was the deal anyway. The illness was already creeping in more aggressively these days… my hands sometimes trembled when I wasn't looking at them. So yeah, whatever I take wouldn't make the illness go away. I brought the trembling cup to my lips, sipping slowly. Shit. Not tonight. Tonight I needed steady hands or I'd die by the hands of my men.

My right hand begins to tremble on its own. “I believe you know what it is right?” I gulp and lift my head with a worried look.

But when I opened my eyes, the beating of my chest got worse because I saw how dreamy his eyes were while staring at me. "Hey, you crazy babe. Stop staring at me like that. I'm thrilled. Just massage my hand. It hurts because of those writing activities," I said and cutely held out my hand to him. "I told you, babe. Don’t get too tired of writing. We understood that you're an honor student but you don't need to overwork yourself. The reason why your hands always tremble, even when you're just handing over a thing is you usually wash your hands after you write. So don't be shocked that you always tremble and have wet palms" he said while gently rubbing my right hand.

CASSIAN I don’t drive away from the hospital immediately. I couldn’t… The engine is on. The dashboard lights glow steadily. Everything is functioning exactly as it should— except me. My hands are on the steering wheel. They shouldn’t be shaking. I tighten my grip, muscles locking, forcing stillness through sheer will. It doesn’t help. The tremor persists, subtle but undeniable, vibrating beneath my palms like something alive. Alive… The word slips in uninvited.

He groaned, a raw, animalistic sound of pure frustration tearing from his throat as he dropped to his knees to claw at the plastic casing. “Leo, stop!” I commanded, leaning down and firmly grabbing both of his wrists. “Look at your hands, Leonardo! Look at them!” He froze, his hands hovering over the keyboard. They were shaking with a violent, uncontrollable tremor, a spastic, rhythmic shuddering that had nothing to do with the turbulence of the aircraft. “The adrenaline,” Leo gasped, his forehead resting against the edge of my seat as his chest heaved. “It’s... it’s clearing out. The server block high... it’s gone. My brain... it’s misfiring, Mom. The data blocks are falling apart.”

ISLA'S POV The green room door seals us in with a heavy, expensive click. Silence hits like a change in cabin pressure. The air conditioning hums, aggressive and cold, scrubbing the studio heat from my skin, but it doesn't stop the shaking. My hands are vibrating. Not a subtle tremble, but full-body tremors that rattle my bones. It’s the adrenaline crash, violent and sudden, now that the red light is off.

Orhan… probably upstairs, lost in some complex Lego fortress or sketching blueprints for world domination. I didn’t make it far. My vision was swimming. The tremors started in my hands, a fine, violent shaking that traveled up my arms and seized my entire body. My lips trembled so hard I bit down on them, the coppery taste of blood and the pointless pain that did nothing to stop the avalanche crashing down inside me.

Right before his fingers got anywhere dangerous, I paused. He was shaking. No—trembling. Like someone had plugged him into an electrical socket. I narrowed my eyes, watching him curiously. His face was redder than a fire hydrant, and he was breathing like he’d just sprinted a marathon. “You okay?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “You're shaking like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.” He nodded — or tried to. It was more like a nervous bobble. I blinked, trying not to laugh. “Bob… are you having a seizure?”

In this world, there was no starlight, no warmth, no light, and no Hilda. Meanwhile, Linux was sorting through documents while sipping on his coffee. All of a sudden, his hand trembled and he spilled the coffee everywhere. When he stood up, he noticed that his heart was beating unusually fast, his breathing felt urgent, and he was unable to control his trembling hands. Panic took over him as though something bad had happened at a place that he was not aware of. After a long while, he still had no control over his feelings and was not able to focus on his work. His hands constantly trembled for no reason at all.