My Brother: The Storyteller

It is hard for me to look back on a childhood filled to the brim with stories and imagination and pinpoint just one favourite bedtime story. Many warm nights were spent cuddled up in bed, with Mum reading me and my brothers a range of fantastical stories. Or Dad regaling to me (for the hundredth time) the adventures of a young Dana and her faithful companion, Smokey the Horse, whose name he conveniently misremembered as Stinky every single night. My home was one that truly fostered the sense of wonder and imagination that comes hand in hand with the bedtime story. There is, however, one character that stands out to me when I reflect on the storytelling of my childhood, whether it be the made-up games, the terrible self-authored and directed plays our parents were forced to watch, or the intricate and recurring bedtime stories. My older brother, Matthew.

Now a successful video-game writer living in Berlin, Matthew has always had the knack for storytelling and has been a passionate and avid reader and writer all his life. This is a passion shared by me and our younger brother, Daniel, and this passion was undeniably encouraged by Matthew. I spent many an evening laying in my brothers’ bunk bed listening to Matthew’s bedtime stories. A particular favourite of mine was the tale of the girl band that played frequent concerts on the beach near our house. Inspired by the thumping music we could hear from outside as we tried to sleep (which it took me years to realise was just the booming sound of a house party somewhere in the neighbourhood) Matthew saw the opportunity for a captivating tale. So inspired was I by Matthew’s story of this super cool girl-band playing beachside concerts that I spent night after night lying in bed dreaming about going down to the beach and joining them. Rather than lament the fact that the music was loud and I couldn’t sleep, I was excited every time I heard a pounding bass outside because I knew it was my favourite band and I was about to listen to another of their many adventures from Matthew. Another bedtime favourite Matthew treated me and Daniel to was our good friend Ghosty. In reality, a white t-shirt dangled over the edge of Matthew’s top-bunk in the darkness, to me and Dan Ghosty was a dear friend that came to visit us here and there. Ghosts weren’t so scary for two kids in the dark when we had a friend like Ghosty, and we could sleep soundly knowing we had him on our side. I still remember the night that I was allowed behind the curtain and invited up to the top-bunk to act as the Ghosty dangler for Daniel, it was a treat to be invited into the telling of this story.

As a child, Matthew was committed to the story to a fault. This commitment created a plethora of fun games and performances for all three of us siblings but was not without its risks. One particular pickle arose when we were playing outside, re-enacting one of our favourite Disney movies. I was, of course, the princess, laying on a chaise lounge created by two deck chairs pushed together. Matthew was my lowly servant and wanted to fan me with a large frond from a plant in our garden, for authenticity. Due to the size of this frond, we struggled to actually remove it from the plant and Matthew decided that the best way to solve this problem was to bite the leaf off. He managed to remove the frond, but he ended up with a bunch of tiny barbs in his mouth and Mum and Dad on the phone to poison control. I still remember giggling to myself as Matthew sat in the bath drinking the milk that had been recommended to help with the pain, a drink that he hated at the time.

One of my fondest childhood memories stemmed from another story Matthew and I were acting out. We stood atop the cliffs close to our house, each holding a stick, sword-fighting as a pair of swashbuckling Pirates. After a few minutes of this, to our amazement, a little boy dressed head to toe in a Pirate outfit and brandishing a plastic sword came charging out of a nearby house and attacked us. It was the greatest fight of my life.

As we grew up Matthew would read us increasingly mature stories. One particular Paul Jennings story that he read aloud to the family on a car trip had us all openly sobbing, and it’s still a favourite story of mine to this day. He would tell us scary stories and delight in our reactions, turning all three of us well and truly into horror lovers. As he got older and started to actually write his own stories he would turn to me and Daniel as first readers, even writing a couple of plays that we produced in the Adelaide Fringe Festival as a sibling team. Any piece of writing that I create now I give to my family for feedback, and Matthew’s is always the opinion I am most nervous to hear. All three of us kids now work or aspire to work in storytelling industries, as writers and actors, and I don’t know if that would be the case today if it weren’t for our big brother.

Over the tumultuous past year and a half with both of my brothers living overseas, having to cancel trips to visit them, and not being able to see them at all due to coronavirus it has been very difficult for me. One of the most effective coping mechanisms I have found is to escape into a good story, living for a while in a world without the restrictions of today, where anything is possible. This is a gift that was given to me by, and connects me still, to my beloved big brother.