My Brain Trembles Novels & Stories

"Liana! I called you so many times. What's the point of having a phone if you don't use it? Seriously, why are you always like this?" I blinked groggily at my screen, the missed calls glaring back at me. "I wasn't feeling well. Just wanted to rest for a bit." "A headache?" he scoffed. Then, as if catching himself, he added, "You're always overthinking stuff. That's probably why you're spiraling." I knew what he was really saying—he thought my "tumor" symptoms were ramping up. When I stayed quiet, he sank onto the couch next to me, loosening his tie. "Had dinner with a client tonight. Heard something wild.

My hands trembled as I unfolded the paper and scanned the diagnosis. Nervous headache. I stared at the words, disbelief flooding my system. How could this be?

No wonder she looked depressed throughout the examination. "This girl is suffering from psychogenic tremors which caused by anxiety disorders or panic attacks," the doctor explained with fingers tapping on Gabriella's medical report. Max spontaneously raised his eyebrows. "Anxiety disorder?" “Yes, it looks like she just experienced something that caused a lot of pressure within. It makes the brain release stress hormones and her hands vibrate." Max was silent for a moment. The guilt in his heart began to creep up in the chest. "Then, how do I get rid of the tremor, Doc?"

My needle moved in small, precise stitches, the rhythm almost meditative. Threading the needle had become more difficult lately. Not because my eyesight was failing, but because my hands had developed a fine tremor that appeared whenever I thought too hard about our future. The kind of shake that came from too much uncertainty and not enough sleep. I'd noticed Mother's hands doing the same thing when she thought no one was looking.

Tremors wracked his entire body, and he fought to remain upright as waves of anguish crashed over him. Ederic's surroundings seemed to fade away, his senses dulled by the overwhelming grief. The world became a blur for a moment, his vision clouded by tears. He moved closer to his mother's bedside, standing there as if in a trance. His trembling hands reached out to touch hers, the effort to steady his own shaking fingers a monumental task.

He had been the perfect man for me until he wasn't. Tara hummed, her head bobbing in understanding. I closed my eyes and fervently tried to maintain my composure but all to no avail. My hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably and I was already having a difficult time breathing well. When was the last time I took my medication? This afternoon? But who cares. I needed my control back. Counting to ten in my head, I abruptly stood up and grabbed my clutch bag. “Umm, I think I need to visit the restroom or something,” I announced, hoping that my movements weren't too frantic and probably hinting at the tremor overtaking my body.

I didn't like it. By the time grey light started coming through the curtains I'd already made up my mind. I sat up carefully and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My right hand started almost immediately. That familiar tremor that lives in my fingers now like it had always been there. I pressed my palm flat against my thigh and waited it out. Thirty seconds. Maybe forty. It steadied.

My legs tremble. Another pain shoots through my entire body which shakes me hard before I let out another scream and suddenly, darkness evades my soul.

He left this hanging, looking up toward the ceiling, mid-thinking. The pieces had begun to fall into place, but the more I learned, the more I grasped just how perilous the situation had become. “What kind of condition?” I pleaded, my voice low, almost inaudible. “What’s happening to you?” He gazed at me then, eyes tinged with terror and pain. “It’s a neurological disorder. That affects my nervous system, and I have erratic symptoms of severe fatigue, fever, and tremors. But there’s more to it. It also messes with my mind. My memory, my emotions. It’s … it’s almost like a ticking time bomb. Every year, it gets worse.”

My body trembles as the power within me fractures—splintering like glass, scattering into the air. I