Whini ng, Sunny pawed at the door while Julian shuffled around the hallway gathering things and putting on his coat. He had the leash and the ball but knew he was forgetting something. Sunny whined louder with growing anticipation, becoming so distracting that Julian gave up and opened the door to the cold autumn night. It had been a hard transition from summer; Julian had started the final year of his degree in architecture - requiring a lot of his time and attention - and Sunny was having trouble adjusting. Knowing it was hard on Sunny, Julian had promised that their evening walks would never be compromised. Tonight, however, it had been pushed back a few hours, and they were both upset at each other. Julian had been busy frantically repairing the complex 18 th Century farmhouse maquette that Sunny, feeling particularly bitter that day, had chewed to bits. Julian plodded along grumpily as Sunny tugged excitedly at the leash. He was a classic golden retriever aside from an unusual covering of white fur on his paws that imitated little boots, especially now as he plowed through a large puddle in the base of the track to their favourite park. With the most unfortunate timing, Julian bent down and unclasped the leash from Sunny's collar just as he began shaking off the excess water. His shaggy coat functioned like a drenched mop, showering Julian in a spray of filthy puddle. The little rascal then bounded off, disappearing up the track while Julian slowly trailed behind, groaning and wiping his eyes. The day had been long and exhausting; the crisp night air biting at Julian’s face was the only thing really keeping him awake. Eventually he emerged between the tree-lined rim of the park and flopped down on the grass with a yawn. It was wet with dew, but he was too tired to care. Sunny was nowhere to be seen on the field. Julian figured he must be in the bushes somewhere, either marking his territory or sniffing out someone else's. "C'mere boy! Sunnyyyyy!" He called, throwing the ball as he did so. It was all part of their usual routine - Sunny would always come running from somewhere, and they'd play fetch until they both got too hungry and bored and wanted to go home. But Sunny didn't come. "Here Sunny!!! Come on boy!!!" Julian called again, a little louder this time. After a few minutes passed, he stood back up, deciding to wander closer to the bushes in case Sunny couldn't hear him or was distracted by a hedgehog or something. "Sunnnyyyyyy, here boy! Sunshine! Come here Sunny!" He continued calling him as he wandered along the edge of the park and peered into the bushes, knowing he would shine like his namesake in this leafy darkness. Julian was starting to get concerned. Panic was creeping up into his chest and he tried to push it down by yelling louder. "SUNNY! SUNNYYYY!!!" He couldn't whistle with his fingers but tried anyway, hoping that the skill would come to him in his time of need. It didn't. The park was embedded in the town belt; it wasn't quite a forest, but it was dense and dark enough to get lost in unless you had a light, which, after frantic rummaging through his pockets, Julian realized he didn't. That was what he’d forgotten - his keys. They were at home, sitting uselessly on the kitchen counter with his mini torch keychain attached. Julian was locked out in the cold with no dog. He started biting his nails, simultaneously willing Sunny to come back, and trying to figure out what to do if he didn't. In the midst of the dilemma, a warm yellow light appeared in the near distance, catching Julian's attention. It came from the observatory on the hill overlooking the park, only a minute or two away. Julian decided to go up there and ask for help, his brisk pace breaking into a run that left him breathless when he got to the door. Still panting, he knocked urgently on the heavy steel. It was loud and obtrusive but conjured no answer. He knocked again, and, having now caught his breath, called out to them. "Hello? Is anyone here? I need help!" He stepped back and looked up at the light in the window, his supposed beacon. A shadow passed over it, then the light went out. "What?" Julian whispered, confused, and feeling a little pissed off now. "HEY! I know someone's in there! Please help me!!! My dog is lost! I need help to find him!" He knocked on the door again, longer and even louder this time, determined not to be ignored. After a minute or so, Julian heard footsteps approaching the door. Slowly, it opened - but only by a crack. It was too small for Julian to see through, but from the other side came the voice of a man obviously grizzled by the commotion. "The observatory is NOT OPEN TO THE PUBLIC. Stop all this fuss and make your way off the premises sir, or we'll call the authorities." He started to close the door but Julian grabbed it quickly and swung it fully open. "Look man, I'm sorry to disturb you but I really need help finding my dog, even if I could just borrow a torch or something? It’s so dark I can't see anything and I'm really worried, please." Startled by Julian's persistence, the man froze, unable to respond. Once he stopped his incessant begging, Julian too, was stuck for words. The man was cloaked in a golden silk hooded robe embroidered with thousands of different scenes of human history - wars, kings, queens, voyages, crimes, births, deaths - it appeared to showcase a timeline of every important moment throughout humanity. The room behind him was also gold, carpeted in a seamless velvet from floor to ceiling. Everything was illuminated by a single candle that the man gripped, still in shock as he stared at Julian with wide, blank eyes. It was all very strange and uncomfortable, but Julian needed help. "Um, I'm really sorry for barging in like this man. I can see you're obviously busy, but if I could just borrow a torch or a candle or whatever to find my dog, that would be amazing... and I'd bring it right back!" There was something very unsettling about this man and the room and the deadly stillness. Julian started to get a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach; something felt wrong here, off, dark. Very slowly, as if he were moving through thick liquid, the man placed the candle in a holder fixed to the wall beside him. There was a sudden shift that could be felt within the man's movements. he no longer seemed awkward, rather there was an eerie calmness emanating from him now; an unsettling composure that made Julian feel vulnerable and unsafe. The man reached inside his robe and, as he bored into Julian's eyes with his sinister stare, pulled out a gun. Julian's blood ran cold. "We gave you every chance to turn away and go back to where you came from... but you couldn't take a hint, could you boy?" Fear engulfed Julian's entire body: his knees started buckling and beads of sweat trembled down his forehead as he stuttered and pleaded for his life. The man remained unmoved, expressionless as he stepped toward Julian and struck a blow to the side of his head. His body went limp.

*** A metallic gold room slowly came into focus, accompanied by a sharp pain in the side of his head. Julian moaned as he made an attempt to reach up and cradle his wounded temple - but his arms wouldn’t move. Confused, he looked down. To his complete horror, Julian found himself bound to a chair with cable ties. He tried pulling again and again, panicking and swearing; unaware that he was surrounded by ten figures shrouded in identical golden robes. Suddenly his forehead was met with a cool sensation, causing him to stiffen. He looked up. Still faint from the blow, Julian thought he must be dreaming: the golden wall of figures towering over him appeared rather mystical, almost soothing, like a collective of guardian angels. But this haze was abruptly cleared by grave reality, as the cool sensation Julian felt now materialized before him - it was the man from the door holding the gun to his head. "Does anyone know you're here?" His voice was deep and threatening. "No, no, I swear. I don't even know where I am, I don't know anything! I swear I don't know anything and I won't do anything please let me go please, you don't have to do this." Julian felt hot tears starting to stream down his face; he was completely helpless, trapped. “Don’t bother lying to us boy, we know you didn’t come here on your own. Now, TELL US,” the man pulled his finger back on the trigger, “WHO SENT YOU HERE?” “NO ONE DID! NOBODY I SWEAR!!! I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON I JUST WANTED TO FIND MY DOG YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!!!” Julian began sobbing uncontrollably. The man sighed. “Alright, get it together you sniveling idiot. You’re going to tell us who you work for, one way or another… and you’re running out of time to do it the easy way. SO YOU BETTER START THINKING BOY OR-” The man with the gun was cut off mid-threat as one of the other figures stepped forward, gently interrupting in a calm, soft-spoken voice. “Now, now, Bromine, maybe we ought to give this young man the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he really was simply looking for his dog, and we have acted defensively in haste.” A glance passed between the two men. It was quick, but it contained an unspoken understanding, and had the weight of something sinister within it. Julian didn’t notice this though; he was just bubbling over with relief, never so grateful to be heard in all his life. “Yes! Yes! Oh, thank you, thank you sir, thank you for believing me! I promise I won’t say anything about this to anyone ever I’ll just find my dog and go straight home and forget all about it!” Bromine glared at him from under his hood. “You’re not going ANYWHERE, boy. Not till you drop the bloody act and start telling us the truth.” The other man, smiling, tutted and shook his head at Bromine, then knelt down before Julian on one knee. In a relaxed, friendly manner, he rested his elbow atop his knee and leaned his cheek against the back of his hand, looking directly into Julian’s eyes. “You must forgive Bromine; he has been betrayed before and doesn’t trust newcomers easily. Now, tell me son, where did you lose your dog?” The way this man addressed him made Julian feel almost childlike. He felt the panic starting to subside, his heart slowing to a more normal pace, able to breathe again. “I lost him in the park just down the hill - I think he ran into the woods maybe; I don’t know where else he could have gone. Usually he runs off for a bit but always comes back after I call him, but I was calling for ages and he didn’t come so I’m really worried… I’m scared he’s run away or maybe he’s hurt.” Julian started to cry again as he voiced his fears out loud. He wished more than anything that he hadn’t been so grumpy with him that day. It felt as though this whole nightmare was his own fault - if he’d just forgiven Sunny, if they just went for a walk at the usual time, maybe none of this would have happened. Sunny only ruined his work because he was jealous, after all. Julian was lucky to have a dog that loved him that much, he realized that now. He could see how dark life was without Sunny. The man patted him on the arm gently. “It’s alright son, we’ll find him. So, he’s a golden retriever; does he have any distinguishable features?” Julian told him the basic stats of Sunny’s height, weight, and age. The man maintained his calm demeanor, nodding along like a dad or a teacher. But as Julian described Sunny’s paws - how they looked like little white boots - the man’s eyes slowly widened, and a darkness fell over his face. The room, which was already silent, somehow grew even more so. Julian suddenly felt nauseous; he knew something he said was wrong, and any hope he had of getting out of here had completely vanished. Bromine, trembling, slowly knelt beside the man and spoke to him in a shrill, hoarse whisper. “Phosphorus, what he claims surely cannot be true. He is a meagre boy, an outsider… The Golden One would never grace someone so unworthy with his presence.” Through his panic, Bromine had exposed the façade of his severe, threatening disposition; he now appeared weak and on edge, the gun not so intimidating in his loose grip. As though they had traded roles, Phosphorus stood up, grabbed Julian by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him against the wall. “Now, you listen to me, boy. No one outside these walls knows of The Golden One. The Golden One is the divine leader of The Elemental Brotherhood of The Periodic Order. Centuries, CENTURIES we have awaited for the prophecy of the Golden One’s arrival to be fulfilled,” Phosphorus pulled his hood right down over his face, displaying an embroidered picture of Sunny circled by an iridescent glow, “the prophecy that destines our brotherhood to serve the righteous will of the one true leader; the immortal ruler who will grant us eternal life, and each our own wing of the golden palace.” Phosphorus lifted his hood back up and pressed his face close into Julian’s, leaving the tips of their noses only a hair-width apart. His breath was hot and stale. “If the Golden One has chosen you to guide us to Him, then be it so. But if your words are false, if The Golden One does not recognize you as an Elemental Brother, your life ends tonight.” Phosphorus let go his grip of Julian’s collar, dropping him to the floor.  Bromine stepped forward and cut the cable ties around his wrists. Julian bolted out of the chair toward the door - but was held back by a firm hand on his shoulder. It was Phosphorus, digging his nails deep into his skin. “I really hope we can find your doggy.” *** Julian thought he would feel immense relief once he was back out in the crisp night air, but the madmen who followed him - laden with pillar candles and guns - were definitely keeping him tense. They reached the edge of the park. The men stood behind Julian in a semicircle, forming a human barricade while he gazed hopelessly into the blackness of the forest. “Well, go ahead boy… make The Golden One appear.” Julian took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing with all his might for Sunny to come running out, tail wagging, happy as a lamb. “SUNNY! HERE BOY! SUNNNYYYYY!!!” The seconds that followed were agonizing; it felt like an age passed by. Having lost all hope, Julian was preparing himself for death when, suddenly, a faint glow appeared in the woods. At first he thought he was seeing things, hallucinating from fear - but then, sure enough, out of the woods came Sunny. Julian had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life; darling Sunny, his very own little ray of sunshine, casting light all over the horrible night and the scary men around them. They ran toward each other. As Sunny knocked Julian down and licked him all over his face, the brotherhood fell to their knees and began chanting in unison. “Oh Golden One, Mighty Golden One, we are your brothers, we are your home…” Taking this chance to escape, Julian sprinted across the park with Sunny at his heels. The brotherhood cried out in unified anger, and as Julian reached the track on the other side, he heard them fire shots into the air. They were being hunted. Adrenaline kicked in, and Julian made it home in less than a minute. There was considerable distance between him and the brotherhood - but, as he fumbled around in his pockets, Julian realized for the second time that night that he’d forgotten his keys. His body filled with dread. Their footsteps were getting louder; they were rounding the street corner, only seconds away. Julian looked around desperately for somewhere to hide while Sunny whimpered, pawing at the door. Then it hit – Sunny’s doghouse! Around the side of the house, half lodged into the hedge, was a doghouse Julian had built in the first year of his undergraduate degree. Sunny had never used it because it was too small and cramped, but tonight, it looked no different to a five-star hotel, and they jammed themselves in. Julian, ever so slightly, pulled back the flap and peered out to the street. The men were wandering up and down the road in search for them, only metres away. Then, two doors up, a porchlight turned on. The brotherhood suddenly stopped in their tracks. For a second, they were torn - The Golden One was so close, but maintaining secrecy was their ultimate priority. Within moments, they vanished from the street. Julian let out a long, deep sigh of relief. Although he knew he was still in danger and that he really ought to keep running, all the built-up stress and tension of the night suddenly caught up to him and, exhausted, he fell asleep with Sunny in the doghouse – vowing never to lose him again.


It was a normal day in the life of the 24-year-old Josh Hopkins who has been working at his dream company and has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home. At least this is what he was dreaming about until the alarm buzzed.

Josh: (Yawns) “Time to get up buddy, and go for another day of waste while job hunting.” Meanwhile, there is a loud knock on the door by Josh’s flatmate and college friend Sara.

Sara: (Yelling) “Wake up you good for nothing guy, I am going to the restaurant, make sure you get your ass dressed and find a job already, or else you are moving out of here.” Sara works as a waitress at a restaurant while struggling to be a published writer. Josh finally wakes up and dresses up to leave for the unending struggle that has been the routine of his life since he lost his last job. On his way, he kept thinking that only if there was a way for him to win some instant cash then he would not need to be worried about the daily nagging by Sara.

At this time, something crosses his eye. He takes a second look at what is supposed to be a poster for the new reality TV show “Survival Couple”.

The poster says: “Enter with your beloved partner now to have a chance of winning a million dollars in just 10 days.”

At first, Josh completely ignores the thought thinking the last time he talked to his ex-girlfriend Kathy was 2 years ago. The day continues just like the other days with Josh returning home hungry and disappointed. On his way, he bought instant noodles, well what to expect from a jobless guy. Soon, Sara returns home exhausted.

Sara: (Sitting with her head tilted on the sofa) “So you useless guy did you find a job? Or you again just roamed around and ate instant noodles?) Josh: (Laughing) “HAHAHAHA! You know me so well.” Sara: (Throwing the cushion at Josh) “This is no laughing matter, we haven’t paid the apartment dues for the last 5 months and this month Mr. Cook is sure to evacuate us unless we clear the dues.” At that moment a sudden idea hit the not so bright mind of Josh and he smilingly said, Josh: “Hey, I saw a reality TV show poster for couples; the winning prize is a million dollars and that too in just 4 days, what say we give it a shot?” Sara: (Surprised, and then burst into laughing) “You and me as a couple on a reality TV show? They would instantly catch upon our lie.” Josh: “No. not necessarily. Look, we have known each other for the last 8 years and have been sharing an apartment for the last two years; in the eyes of many people we would definitely be a couple.”

Sara: “Yeah, that is true but can we win the show? Do you really think so?” Josh: (Confidently) “Yes! It is at least worth a shot, we aren’t getting anywhere with our careers anyway.”

Sara: (Still unsure) “All right, let’s give it a go, register us and we will see what happens.” Josh: “Hey are you so opposed to the idea of even dating me for 4 days to even not be swayed by a million dollars!” Sara: (chucking) “That’s because I know you dumbass, and I also know that you are still hung up on that ex-girlfriend of yours.” John: (Silently) “Hmmmm……” That night Josh registers both of them as a couple for the reality TV show. They get an email the next day regarding an audition to grant entry in the main show. Both Josh and Sara get dressed and go to the venue.

Sara: “Woah! This is huge, just look at the size of that stage.”

Josh: “Yeah well what did you think? They are giving a million dollars as the prize money and from what I have heard they will make the main round participants live together at a separate venue.”

Sara: “That is so cool man; we get free food for 4 days.”

Josh thinking in his mind that they really need to win the competition or they are not going to have a place to live starting next month. As he was lost in this thought their name was called up. Judge A: “Introduce each other and tell something weird but cute about each other.” Josh: (Seemingly looking tensed) “Ummm… So, this is my girlfriend Sara James. We have known each other for the last 8 years, went to high school and college together, and now we live together. She has a habit of suddenly talking in impersonated voices of famous movie villains; it always cracks me up (laughing).” Sara: “This is Josh Hopkins my boyfriend, and as he mentioned we have known each other for the last 8 years and currently live together. He has a weird habit of thinking way ahead like marriage, children, etc. He builds up different scenarios and asks me questions, any other girl would totally feel weird but I kind of like his way of thinking.”

Judge B: “All right, this is a test, please fill it separately, you have 3 minutes, do not think long just right the first thing that comes to your mind otherwise you will not be able to complete the entire test which could lead to disqualification.”

Josh and Sara fill the form in a hurry and hand them over and then look at each other chuckling. Judge B: “Okay, thank you for your time. We will email you your results by tonight and the details about the next round.”

Josh on his way out: “Woah! That was nerve-racking, I was about to spill the beans in the test.” Sara: “Totally, I don’t even know how I did on the test; all the questions were related to the cheesy stuff that couples do.”

Josh: “Well let’s see what results we got, for the moment let’s get something to eat from the diner.” Later that night, they receive an email detailing their selection and the next round. Josh: “Sara pack your bag we are leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow.” Sara: “Home huh? It’s been two years since we last went back home. I wonder how your ex Kathy is doing nowadays.” Josh ignores her and goes to pack his stuff. The next day they leave for Los Angeles on the TV show’s bus. Finally, after a tiring ride, they reach the hotel at which the main rounds are going to happen. All the participants start to gather in the lobby for the instructions, and it is when they see an old face. Kathy: “Hey Josh! What are you doing here? (Then she sees Sara) Hey Sara! Long time no see girl, where have you been? No one at the hometown has a clue about you.” As Josh was about to respond the host comes and calls the attention of all the participants. She congratulates everyone on reaching the main round and informs them about the show’s procedure. After the introduction is complete, they tell us to go and rest for the night in our designated rooms. As Josh and Sara were about to leave, Sara approaches them: Kathy: “So you two are a couple now? Who knew that the kid A of our college and the lonely beauty would end up together.” For a minute pin drop silence echoes throughout the atmosphere when finally Josh speaks Josh: (sensing Sara’s uneasiness) “Yeah, astonishing things do happen, I mean look at you who knew that you would start to date the quarterback of our high school football team.” Kathy: “True, but Smith here is a real sweetheart, he lets me do whatever I want.” Smith: (Phone rings) “Sorry guys have to take this call; it was nice meeting you both again. Kathy comes to our room when you are done talking.” Kathy: “So Josh when did you two start dating, was it right after our breakup?” Josh: “No, it was sometime after when I met her in New York by chance.” Kathy: (touching Josh’s arm) “You sly dog, I never knew that you could get The Sara to be your girlfriend. Sara so tell me about it does he still do that trick with his tongue in the bed? I have been with many guys but no one can match that.” Sara seemed uneasy to reply. Josh: “Hey Kath! Come on give her a break. We are pretty tired from the ride; see you tomorrow at the competition.” Kathy finally left Josh’s arm when he grabbed Sara’s hand to go to their room. On their way, Sara was absolutely quiet. After freshening up, Josh sits on the sofa and Sara on the bed. Josh: “I am sorry for what happened downstairs, I had no idea Kathy would be here.” Sara: (showing a poker face) “Hmmmm……” Josh: “All right let us get some sleep we have a big day tomorrow. I’ll take the sofa, you can have the bed.” Sara without saying anything went to bed. The next morning when Josh woke up, Sara wasn’t in the room, he dressed up and went to look for her, he found her walking near the poolside.

Josh: “Hey! What’s up? Something troubling you?” Sara: “Nothing much. So, tell me something. Do you still have some lingering feelings left for Kathy?” Josh: “No, not at all, what gave you that idea?” Sara: “Well you seemed to be pleased to see her and especially when she was touching your hand.” Josh: “Oh come on, that was nothing at all, you are overthinking it. Right now we are a couple and we need to concentrate to win the million dollars.” Soon after that, they went to the lobby for the first competition of the main round.

Host: “We have here 64 couples with us, after this first round more than half of them will be eliminated from the competition and would have to go home immediately. The first round is the cook-off, in this round all the males will cook a dish in 20 minutes, and then the ladies will have to judge that which dish was made by their partner.” The round kicks off and all the males hustle and work against the clock. Finally, all the dishes are made and the tasting and decision are done by the females. Host: “Only 16 females were able to guess the correct dish, their names are Elizabeth Love, Sara James, Kathy Kristen, ………………….. The selected teams have now a 30-minute break during which they can enjoy at this luxurious hotel.” Kathy: “Congratulations guys! We both made it to the next round, by the way, Josh you made the Half-fried omelet right? I knew it just by having the first bite you still make some cruel omelets.” Josh: “Yeah that was me, though I was surprised that Sara was able to guess correctly since..” Kathy: (Interrupting him) “Why? Hasn’t she had your omelet since you two have been dating for a while?” Josh who almost slipped the secret that he has never cooked this dish for Sara. “No no, I meant that she is very bad with tasting, she can’t even differentiate between Mozarella and Cheddar, I mean can you believe it?” Kathy: (laughing hysterically and again touching Josh’s hand) “Oh my seriously?” Sara: (Sighs and then goes to the lobby to wait for the next round alone, meanwhile Kathy stops Josh from going and keeps flirting with him.) Finally, the time for the second round arrives.

Host: “The second round will have two couples make a team and take part in the treasure hunt. Only the first 6 teams to finish the hunt will qualify for the next round. Kathy, Smith, Josh, and Sara coincidentally end up in the same team.” Kathy: “Let’s do this guys we have to take the first position, remember Josh how we won the treasure hunt in college, we can do it this time too.” They all start the hunt and easily reached the last clue first, the last clue required them to take the stairs all the way to the rooftop. All of them ran to the top, Smith being the athlete he was, was way ahead and behind him was Kathy and then Josh and Sara when suddenly Kathy missed a step and slipped, spraining her leg.

Kathy: “Aaahhh…..Aaaahhh…..Help me Smi……Help me, Josh!” Josh stops and takes her hand while Sara stares at them, Kathy tells him to take her to the top in his arms or give her a piggyback ride, Josh after retaliating uselessly gives her a piggyback ride. Sara after seeing hurries to the rooftop and they end up winning the Treasure hunt and move to the next round. After that Smith takes Kathy to the infirmary while Sara is still quiet.

Host: “Congratulations to the 12 teams here to qualify for the finals. The finals will start the day after tomorrow and will go on for two days, and at the end of it we will have our final winner.” Josh and Sara go to their room, and still, there is a distance between them as Sara does not talk much. Meanwhile, Kathy comes back, she just had a light sprain. The next day passes by as all of them enjoy the leisure activities provided at the hotel, throughout which Kathy keeps flirting with Josh. Finally, the day of the final round arrives. Host: “The final round will be spread over two days. To win the couples have to do the tasks listed in the instruction manual given to you. The final task carries the most marks and will probably determine the winner, only one team will be able to complete that task.” Josh looks at the tasks, most of the tasks are fairly simple while some are a bit tricky. The final task is left blank, and in the end, it is written to fill this task after completing the rest of the tasks.

Both the couples were able to do almost all of the tasks listed, although what they did not know was that one task was different for every couple. Kathy and Smith had the task to go confess and kiss to the opposite gender of one couple, only one of them had to do it. So they decided Kathy should do it with Josh since they already know each other. Kathy finds Josh roaming around the pool at night and goes to him. Kathy: “Hey Josh listen, I want to confess something to you.” Josh: “What is it?” Kathy: “That time I did not break up with you because I was not in love with you but because I was scared that if you had gone to New York we would not be able to be happy. I still love only you Josh. (Kathy then suddenly kisses Josh)” Behind the scenes, Sara was listening and seeing the whole thing and she hurriedly went back to her room as a teardrop came into her eyes. The next morning all the teams did their tasks, and finally, only the last task was left. The last task was supposed to be thought and done by the males. Sara goes to her room telling Josh to figure it out and then call her. At night just 20 minutes before the countdown ends Josh messages, Sara, to come to the rooftop. When Sara reaches the rooftop she sees Kathy in Josh’s arms with her leaning on his chest. After that Kathy leaves while Sara hides. Then Sara opens the door and walks towards Josh. Josh: “You finally came, here I was worried that you might get late and we might lose.” Sara: “Well I did come early but you were busy flirting with your girlfriend.” Josh: “Wait what? Girlfriend? Who?” Sara: (Angrily) “Do not lie, I saw you and Kathy, today and even yesterday night. If you had gone back to her then why even bother to play this stupid show. (Sara bursts into tears)” Josh: (not knowing what to do) “Hey! it is not like that at all.” Sara: “Stop lying Josh. (Stuttering) I, I, I, I have always been waiting for you, for the last 8 years I have been waiting for you to love me. First, you did not even see me as a girl, and then you got into a relationship with that stupid Kathy, and then when you finally broke up I thought maybe now you will look at me, I even left a good job opportunity and came to New York chasing after you, I even lived in the same apartment thinking you might make a move on me this way but still to no avail and now when this was supposed to be our show you go back to her and embrace her. I hate you, I hate you so much.” Josh: “Hey Hey stop crying dumbass, you do not even know the whole story, last night was just a task that Kathy was completing and right now I called her to thank her for breaking up with me because it was because of that I was able to realize something very important (Josh sits with one leg bent and takes out a ring)” Josh: “Sara James, will you marry me and continue to handle my foolishness for the rest of your life?” Sara: (In a state of shock, shouts) “Yes! Yes! You stupid dumbass (she starts hitting him repeatedly after wearing the ring and then finally kisses him.” Host: “Everyone, we have our winner here. The final task was for the couples to show their true love. And what is true love if not marriage.” Josh lifts Sara in her arms and kisses her again, both of them smile and laugh like they never ever did before, and finally come together as one.


One of the worst things about my job was trying to find rhythm in terrible songs with a basic , repititive pop beat and meaningless lyrics. Whilst I got myself through the Australian university of the performing arts, I worked as a backup dancer through the holiday months to make ends meet. This role was arranged through my uni which meant that I had little to no say in the jobs I took...which was why I was spending yet another weekend performing the same bordlerine innapropriately sexual moves over and over as the latest young pop sensation of the season wailed out their heartbreak songs into a overly auto tuned microphone. I had gotten into this industry because of my love of the performing arts and the beautiful way in which a human body could bring out the messages in music...decent and meaningful music that is. The repetitive, computer generated basic tunes of today's chart topping pop headlined by simplistic lyrics loosely based around heartbreak or shallow love were definetly not my idea of following my dream.

Which was why I was looking forward to a couple of weeks off after the busy Christmas season. If I never had to wear a skintight santa outfit again I would be a very happy gal. However on Christmas Eve, merely a week ago, I had strained my hamstring...and now instead of spending my precious holidays out socialising with my family and hometown friends I was practically bed bound. Icing my leg, taking as many painkillers as I could and entertaining my beloved friends and family who came to check up on me were my only pastimes Although it didn't sound like a serious injury, a strained hamstring wasn't just a little bruise. No, in fact it felt more like I was being stabbed in the back of the leg everytime I walked or even stretched the muscle. As a dancer, I had suffered various injuries throughout my career and training...it was just one of the many sacrifices one had to make to the performing arts profession. Spending the small amount of precious time I had off in between backup dancing and full time studying stuck in my childhood home wasn't the way I wanted to spend the holiday season.

On a positive note though, It did force me to actually slow down and stop for the year...something I wasn't very good at doing, I found it difficult to relax and simply to not do anything. This was something my family found especially obvious in this festive season, especially when they joined me on the lounge and loudly argued about what to watch...something I couldn't care less about.

It was just past 6pm on what had been a warm and clear skyed boxing day. Considering my current predicament, it should come as no suprise that I was feeling pretty sour about the whole situation...too sour for the midst of a holiday season. My siblings, parents...pratically the entire neighbourhood had spent the day at the community pool, soaking up the sunshine and happily celebrating another year. That was the strange thing about small town vibes, you practically were one big family which meant everyone knew everyone else's business.

Whilst they worked on their tans, sculled tinnies and engaged in epic water gun battles...I was stuck on the sidelines tending to the barbie and getting burnt from staying in the same position for too long. I should have been grateful that I was able to spend Christmas with my large, comically extended family. I had been trying to have a positive attitude for gratitude, yet the nagging pain in my leg, the worry that I had put my career in jeopardy and my annoyance at not being able to properly party after the stressful year I had endured and made me practically the grinch. As my 3 year old niece jumped on my lap, chattering animately about her favourite Disney princess's I fought not to wince as my leg gave an aggressive throb. Staying silent was the best way to cope with anger, in my opinion anyway. I wasn't an angry or negative person, yet like my Dad and most of my brothers...we had a short fuse. Adding pain to a short fuse was basically like stacking glasses on a rickety table...at what point would they all come down, shattering everywhere? My oldest brother seemed to understand my predicament as he smoothly picked his daughter off my lap and squeezed in next to me, giving me a small smile as he flicked on the television. Smiling gratefully back in return, I inhaled deeply as I forced myself to relax...it was the season to be joyous and festive, not cranky and touchy.

Settling back into the plushy couch, I forced myself to calm down as I watched most of my small town pour into our modest suburban home. By 630pm, everyone had found a perch whether that be on the variety of random chairs situated throughout my childhood home or on the thick chocolate coloured carpet. The sound of probably a hundred people, adults and children alike talking amongst themselves provided comforting background noise as I simply watched the evening unfold. Tucking into my roast dinner, I allowed myself to drift off and simply be...something that was very unlike me, perhaps this injury had a plus side afterall...it was forcing me to take a break. In fact, I didn't even notice that someone had turned the television onto the pop culture channel until my niece squealed from next to me " Look, Look Ali! it's you on the tee vee!" Snapping back into reality, I ignored the obvious stares of everyone around me as I focused my attention on my family's much loved flatscreen. The pop culture channel was one I avoided with a passion, not only because I rarely watched television but because the same old crap was on all the time...it was full of superficial people pretending to have talent whilst they pimped themselves out for a taste at stardom.

However tonight, I recognised the event that was being broadcast...a fact that sent shivers down my spine and caused me to feel physically sick within the space of a few seconds. Sure enough, as soon as the first few horribly basic bars of the latest chart topping pop crap drifted through the surround sound I felt myself physically tense up, my damaged hamstring giving an aggressive pout as I kept my eyes glued to the screen.

Instead of the laughter and embarrassment I expected to feel at the sight of me clad in the skin tight santa dress basically twerking to the pitifully basic beat, those around me began to clap and exclaim their praises. Apparently appearing on television whilst doing what you loved, even if you were a backup dancer for the latest crappy talent meant that I had earned the respect and admiration of my family, something that was priceless no matter the circumstances. If this was going to be the start of my journey to fame...perhaps it wouldn't be so bad afterall.

On one hand, perhaps this injury had been a good thing. It had forced me to relax and spend time with those I loved. Thanks to my leg I had been forced to spend my Boxing day night sitting on the couch at home rather than out partying with the other youths of the neighbourhood...a blessing in disguise really as it allwoed me to see the beginning of my career...perhaps my fame could be traced back to this moment...all because of a strained hamstring.


The garden is totally different now. Josie blinks at it- once, twice- in the harsh afternoon sunlight, trying to make sense of it. Gradually, the similarities between the way she left it and this jarringly overgrown weed patch begin to stand out. The magnolia tree, which was in bloom when she last saw it, is still there, though the flowers are shriveled or gone entirely. It still casts a patch of shade over part of the garden, where she planted the hydrangeas. Her rosebush, which she was so proud of,  is turning brown and needs pruning; but it's still rooted in place.  Josie limps forward to examine the messy flowerbeds. There's so much in need of doing. Still, there would be more if the whole garden was dead. She settles into place on the soft earth, gripping a shovel in her right hand, and bends over a large patch of chickweed. The leafy clumps have spread to conquer anything they can, crowding her flowers and carpeting the ground, and- she gives an experimental tug with her free hand- are deeply rooted in it. This will take a while. Angling her shovel into the soil, Josie pushes in, only to drop it immediately. She grabs at her wrist, muttering, "No!" Glaring up at the sky in search of some kind of sympathy from above- even a single cloud taking pity on her and covering the sun would make her feel a little better- she growls at nothing in particular, and switches the shovel to her good hand.  Her movements are clumsy, unaccustomed to using her left hand, but she manages to yank the weeds free by alternation between pulling and digging. The sun beams on her back, forcing her to find shade beneath the magnolia. She works for some time in upset silence. She'd never given a thought to the effortless rhythm of gardening- dig with one hand, pull with the other, fish out worms and move them to a safer spot in between movements- but now she sees how easily spoiled that rhythm is. All it takes is one little crash... and the broken wrist, broken ribs, broken life that come after it. The leaves on every plant are dry, wilted, depressed. She understands the feeling. Her little sister promised to water the garden; that was almost the first thing Josie asked about after the accident; but she doesn't know anything about plants. Josie's the only one in the family who doesn't have a black thumb. Her mom can't keep houseplants alive for more than a week. How are the weeds still green and perky? Weeds are magic, Mr. Kirsch, the former neighbor who got her hooked on gardening, used to tell her. Black magic, he would add, with a dirty scowl at the dandelions or bittercress he was weeding out at the time. Josie always laughed, and then he would laugh, too. That was three years ago. She isn't laughing now. The back door squeaks open behind her, and though she doesn't turn, she recognizes the footsteps crossing the patio as her mother's. She keeps working, trying to make this stupid arrangement seem normal. As if she always digs with her left hand; always holds the other almost motionless by her side; always turns her entire body to toss weeds on the compost pile instead of twisting, a motion that hurts her mostly-healed ribs. She tries not to show the frustration in every weed she rips out of the earth, but it can't be working. Her mom coughs once. Josie ignores it, and soon she tries again. "You aren't supposed to work this long, Josie. Or this hard, either. You know, Heather would love to help you..." "No!" Josie hears the annoyance in her tone, and attempts to correct it. "No, that's okay. I'm fine." When her mother hesitates, she adds, "I'll be in soon. I'm fine," she repeats. Her mother sighs and disappears inside. She doesn't want her black-thumbed sister to do more damage, even if she were up for talking, which she isn't. Besides, this is her problem. She can fix it, and she doesn't want or need help. It's another half-hour before Josie's forced to admit that she can't go on. Her wrist aches, her ribs ache, and the rest of her does, too- right down to her fingertips, sore from pulling up weeds. They never used to mind, but she hasn't worked in the garden for a long time. She moves slowly as she puts away the gardening tools in the garage, rusted from lack of use just like she is. The garden is dying, whether she likes it or not. She's one person; she can't do everything. Then she starts to walk inside, but stops- her eyes have fallen on her bike. It's in no condition for riding, of course. Her parents never got around to having it fixed after the crash, so the bicycle is still bent and scratched. It hurts to see the damage it received, and to know that she got it worse. Then her eyes travel to her mother's bike, waiting a few feet away. Josie smiles. The bike is a little too big. She's bumped around on the cracks in the sidewalk, making her ribs scream with pain, and keeping the wide handlebars under control takes both hands, with no way to ease the stress on her bad wrist. She wobbles around, struggling to tame the bike but determined to succeed. The road drops into a steep hill. Josie switches to the road to have a smoother ride down, glances forward and back, her throat tight, and then flies down the hill. Her stomach drops. Her hair whips around beneath her helmet, individual strands tickle her face and float into her watery eyes. She must be white with fear, but she loves it- A car, suddenly behind her. The fun evaporates, and the terror dominates, the car on her tail, might hit her any second. She squeezes the handbrakes, veering to the side, waiting for the crash- The car keeps going, past her and then gone. Josie comes to a full stop and tries to focus, taking on shaky breaths until she can resume her ride. It's just a car. This is a road. Not every car you see is going to hit you, she repeats, over and over, a mantra she can't quite believe. She shakes her head firmly and begins to pedal again. She doesn't remember her old neighborhood being so far away from the new one. Just like she did in the garden, she studies every house she passes, finding similarities to how it used to be. It's been three years since she's been here, but not much has changed. Most of the houses are the same color, same trees and bushes out front, even the same cars parked outside. Now and then she sees someone who she recognizes, but no one seems to notice her. That shouldn't come as a surprise; they aren't expecting her to be here, not after three years. A house more familiar than most flashes past. She brakes and stares at it, noting the new car (of course it's new), the new curtains in the windows (again, not a surprise. The old ones are hanging in the living room back home), and newly painted garage door. Josie wonders if the new owners like the tiny backyard, with no room for a garden. Then she keeps riding, only to stop ten feet away, at the curb of the next house over. This one is all the same colors. The curtains are still the same, too. She doesn't see the old car, but there's no new one parked outside, either. She dismounts and strides up the walk. The doorbell doesn't work- a sticky note on the door says so. Josie raises a fist and raps on the door, hoping Mr. Kirsch will answer. Knock. Knock. Kn-knock. He doesn't. A grey-haired woman, who takes Josie a moment to recognize as Mrs. Kirsch, opens the door after fifteen seconds of waiting. "Yes?" She looks down at Josie, and after another fifteen seconds, blinks in recognition. "Oh, honey." Josie smiles at her, but it's a confused frown inside her head. They weren't close enough for honey- they never really spoke, in fact. "Hi. Could I talk to Mr. Kirsch?" She can't wait to tell him everything about the garden she's grown- he'll love to know about the magnolia tree, and the rosebush, and the hydrangeas, too. And he'll know just what to do for the dying plants. It's already lifting her mood a bit. The strange look on Mrs. Kirsch's face gets even stranger. She seems to visibly sag. "Well, sweetie, I don't-" She never called her sweetie , either. "It won't take long, I promise. I just wanted to tell him about my garden- at my new house, you know. Only a few minutes." "Honey... Julie? Was that it? He isn't here right now." Mrs. Kirsch steps away from the doorway, as though considering shutting it in her face. "Heart attack." It feels like Josie's thoughts are plodding through mud; that's how long it takes for Mrs. Kirsch's meaning to sink in. "You mean... he's dead?" The sweet old lady's face freezes. "Yes. I'm afraid so..." She starts blinking rapidly, and Josie knows she's not welcome right now. "Thank you for coming over, Julie- goodbye-" The door closes, ruffling Josie's hair with its quick motion. Only now do the questions she wants to ask start flowing. How long ago did he die? Right after she moved, or only this year? Did he still remember her, and how he taught her to care for flowers? She won't ever know the answers, at least not to the last one. Why didn't she visit him after they moved? Why did it take such a terrible accident and a dying garden for her to finally do it- and only after it was too late? Maybe she thought she didn't need his help. Now she wishes that she did. Josie turns around and straddles her bike, beginning the long ride home. She doesn't think about much of anything; hardly knows where she's going or what she's doing. A few especially close cars catch her attention, but she's too numb to panic much. And then she's home. She can smell the half-dead flowers in the garden- he'll never know about the magnolia tree, how it flowers every spring. He would have loved a tree in his flowerbeds, to give shade while he worked. The thought brings tears to her eyes. Through the mist, she puts away the bike and opens the door, finally noticing how sore she is. The door hasn't shut behind her before her mother's upon her. "Josie! Where were you? I-" She notices the look on her daughter's face and pauses. "What?" Josie stares at her, thinking, and then says, "Nothing." She doesn't hear the rest of the rant, crossing to the living room and looking out at the garden. She wishes she could plant some of his favorite flowers in the dying- or maybe just recovering- garden, but she doesn't know what those are. He never told her. Her mother runs out of breath, hugs her, and leaves the room. Josie can hear her muttering to her father about what a senseless decision she's made. It doesn't disturb her. She can almost hear Mr. Kirsch's hoarse voice telling her, I like them all! Who doesn't? That's exactly what he'd say, she decides, heading back to the garage to look through her seed packets. She'll plant some of everything. Then she turns around, and calls, "Heather? If you help me choose some seeds, you can plant some of them tomorrow." Running feet come from downstairs, and she pushes her own feet back into her shoes, wondering if the garden and its magnolia tree will be all right. If not, she's already decided, she'll grow another.


To my future self, Marisol I don't know how the future came out for us. I hope it came out great. I hope you are having a lot of good times. We had great times during our younger years. I hope the future turned out better fo us, better than the past. Remembering the past is easy and I sure do hope you remember our past. Remember all the good times we had. The summers we spent with our family and friends. The vacations we took. Remember even the bad times. The lost friends, the lost family members, the lost jobs. Writing this letter, I don't want to dwell on the bad times, but reflect on the good times. What I want to take away from this letter is how good of a life we led, but OI also want you or should I say me, to take away from this letter is the times we lived in. There was good times in this country filled with people ready to fight for what they believed in, but also this country was filled with people who wanted to take away everything people like us fought for. I hope, I pray we lived long enough to see our grandchildren and great grandchildren grow up to be amazing people filled with beliefs just as strong as ours and I hope that you will read this letter to them so they can know who their grandmother was. So, I want to begin this letter with who we are as a person with our strong beliefs in humanity. Do you remember everything we fought for? All the causes we were apart of? We fought for amazing things. To change the world just like the people who came before us. Our most passionate cause fighting for the rights of the LGBTQ community. Do you remember how tirelessly we fought for their rights to get healthcare, the right to get married and the right to get a job? Marisol, that was the best time we ever had, meeting so many wonderful people, making life long friends, changing the world and I hope we are still friends with Kay and Zavier. Kay and Zavier, wow, they were just as passionate as we were. I smile and laugh at all the times we had protesting and the sleepless nights we spent coming up with new ideas. Do you remember another cause we fought so passionately about? We fought so hard for our government to ensure our streets were safe and our children were safe to walk the streets without fear of being shot. Gun Control was one of those causes where it was hard to get things done, we never gave up the fight. I hope Marisol that in whatever time you are reading this letter that  Gun Control is indeed stricter, that the streets are safe and our kids are safe. We fought for a lot of amazing causes and I hope you are continuing the fight in the future and show the future generations to never give up and always fight for what they believe in. Next thing I want to write about is our family and friends. The fun times we had. What great times we had with our family. Mom cooking in the kitchen, singing so badly we had to put cotton balls in our ears. Us Marisol, dad, Molly, Summer and Chase laughed at mom's singing. Mom joined in and started laughing. This was the best part of our family. We sit down, eat dinner and laugh at ourselves. Dad, he was just the most incredible father. He always supported us in whatever we wanted to do. Do you remember the time we told dad about joining in the fight for social justice? He told us "The world couldn't ask for a better person to join the fight." We cried tears of happiness. Mom was just as supportive as dad. I hope Marisol that you are telling our grandchildren about their great grandparents. Molly, Summer, and Chase, what can I say about them? The best brother and sisters anyone can ask for. We had crazy times together. We did crazy things together. Remember when we put itching powder in the cheerleaders clothes or when we super glued the principle to his chair. Those were great times, fun times. I miss our younger years, but I know we grew up to be incredible people. I hope when you are reading this letter that Molly, Summer and Chase are with you still getting into all kinds of trouble. The summer vacations we took were outrageous. Our mother once told us "You four kids are going to give me a heart attack doing all these crazy things." Molly told mom "If we stopped doing these crazy things, we will live boring lives and be boring people." Mom just laughed. So, we went on doing crazy things. Mom and dad went with us. Although they didn't come with us our crazy adventures, they were happy to be together and with us. Our best friends Blake, Asher, Alyssa, and Claire always came with us. We went white water rafting, rock climbing and so many other cray things. Alyssa and Claire our oldest and closes friends. We grew up together in the same neighborhood, went to the same school all the way through high school. I hope we kept in touch and are still the very best of friends in the future. Blake and Asher's friendship came about in the worst way you can imagine. Do you remember how? Chase, our younger brother was being bullied. Us Marisol, Molly, and Summer never knew chase was being bullied until the day Blake and Asher came to Chase's rescue. It was after school we were walking outside of the building when we saw a large crowd cheering and yelling. Marisol, we didn't know what was going so we along with Molly, Summer, Alyssa and Claire went to go see what was happening and to our horror there was Chase surround by the school bullies. Those school bullies shall not be named in my letter. We tried to cut through the crowd. So did Molly, Summer, Alyssa and Claire, but we couldn't get through. That is when we heard two voices yelling at the bullies to stop. Then the crowd stopped cheering and yelling and we were able to get to chase. Chase was on the ground bleeding and in tears. Blake and Asher ran the bullies and the crowd off. Blake and Asher introduce themselves to us and told us "Chase will be protected. No one will ever mess with him again." Blake and Asher were true heroes and I hope they continued to be the heroes I know they are in the future. Chase being bullied is one of those bad times I don't like to remember. What else can I write in this letter that you don't already know? We were great Marisol. We had a great family and great friends. We had a great life. This letter is not just a reflection of our life, but a testament to who we are as a person and whoever we share our life with will know how strong and fearless we are. Never stop believing in yourself. Continues to do great things and continue to change the world. Always remember never give up the fight. From Marisol in the past to Marisol in the future. Always forever.


Kayla had always done things backwards. As a baby, she learned to walk before she learned to crawl. She learned to use utensils before using her fingers. She learned how to write before she could read.

         As a teenager, things weren’t much different for her. She had had sex, gotten pregnant, and had a baby before ever going on a real date. As a result of this, she had gotten married at a very young age. She was sixteen and her baby’s father was eighteen. They barely knew each other before having a baby and getting married. Luckily, he was loyal and supportive and had been raised to take responsibility for his actions.          Kayla was, overall, a good wife and mother. She kept the house clean, and the baby, as well. She kept Kip, her husband, fed and satisfied. Deep down, though, Kayla had never wanted this life for herself. Her mother, when Kayla had mentioned this once, told her to ‘suck it up and deal with it’.          In her heart of hearts, Kayla had always dreamed of being a doctor. She was fascinated with all things medical and watched every medical show that was aired on television, whether it was reality tv or fictional drama. Alas, Kayla had never even finished high school, having quit to have Stephen and then marrying Kip.          Kayla had just about decided that she would at least go back and get her GED when she sadly found out that she was, once again, pregnant. This broke Kayla’s heart, not that she would admit it to Kip. He was over the moon. He adored little Stephen, and was hoping for a daughter this time around.

         Kayla pretended to share his enthusiasm, but deep down she resented the baby just a little. When her beautiful little girl, Cheyenne, was born, she felt ashamed of herself because she felt nothing towards the darling little baby that they placed in her arms.          Kip would come in from work and immediately go to spend time with his ‘little crew’ as he called the children. During this time, Kayla would make dinner.

         One night at dinner, when Cheyenne was about three months old and Stephen was one, Kayla mentioned to Kip that she wanted to pursue her GED. Kip was in agreement – if it could be done from home and online. Kayla researched it later and found that it could not be done that way. Her town offered two choices – day classes or night classes.

         When Kayla mentioned that to Kip, he balked. He didn’t like the idea of her leaving the kids all day, even if it was with one of their mothers, nor did he care for her being gone for several hours at night. Kip liked their little life and their little routine. Finally, it occurred to him to ask her why she wanted a GED so badly.          Kayla looked at her husband. She cared deeply for him and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she decided to be honest.          “Kip, I want a better life than this. I want more money. I want a nicer house. I want fancier things. I want to become a doctor.”          Kip, although normally a very kind man, busted out laughing.

         “Kayla, do you realize that passing the GED is just the first step? You would have four years of college and four years of medical school. Not to mention the hours you would have to put in after that. My God, you watch all these medical shows. You should know better than I do what you would be looking at.”          This angered Kayla, but she didn’t let it show. She was more determined than ever to get that GED. After that, she wasn’t sure what she would do, but she was going to get that damn GED or die trying.          Secretly, she arranged for her mother to watch the kids while she went to day classes. Her mother wasn’t crazy about the arrangement, but she reluctantly agreed. Kayla went to her classes and worked hard, then rushed home and worked hard there, as well.          Finally, the day came when Kayla completed her GED program and received her certificate. She was elated! When Kip asked her that night what had brought on the fancy dinner and the romantic attitude later that night, she just shrugged with a little grin on her face.          Kayla secretly applied to several colleges and universities. She was determined to take the next step. When the day came that she was accepted, it was a bleak day, indeed. She had just come from a doctor’s appointment, where she had found out that she was, once again, pregnant. She opened the letter and found that she was accepted to a school across the country.

         Kayla was devastated by both pieces of news. She didn’t want to be pregnant again, didn’t want another little burden around. She wanted to go to college, but no way would Kip be willing to move across the country. She thought long and hard about her situation. She watched Stephen and Cheyenne play while she thought. Finally, Kayla made a decision.          Kayla picked up the phone and called her doctor’s office. Her doctor didn’t do what she was asking for, but he referred her to someone that would. She made the appointment for the next day. The next call she made was to her mother. She told her mother that she had to go back to the doctor for a test that they wanted to run, so her mother agreed to keep the kids.          Kayla got up after Kip went to bed that night. She wrote a long letter to Kip, and one to her mother. She also wrote letters for both kids. She slipped the letter for Kip down inside a pocket in the diaper bag, as well as the ones for her mother and the kids.

         The next morning, everything seemed normal. She made breakfast, talked with Kip over coffee, took care of the kids – all of the usual stuff. Once Kip left for work, she grabbed the kids, the diaper bag, and her suitcase and loaded everything into the car. She drove to her mother’s and dropped off the kids. Her mother insisted that she return directly from her doctor’s appointment and she assured her that she would. She had no intention of ever returning to her mother’s house again. She drove straight to the doctor’s office and had the abortion that she had decided upon. She then got back into her car and went to the bank, where she drew out half of their money. She had already accepted the invitation to the university that was across the country and she had a dorm room all lined up. She steered her car onto the interstate and never looked back.


A chill bit through Hanna’s thin shawl. She wrapped it tighter around herself, brushing off errant leaves. Her head hurt and the world slightly spun. She put a slender hand on the trunk near her and took in the sight and smell of the forest. It didn’t make sense. How did she get here? Her mind was a fog, but Hanna was sure it had been a beautiful spring day when she had come to pick mushrooms for dinner. Now, she hardly recognized where she was in this picturesque fall forest. A slight breeze ruffled orange and red leaves, scattering them to an already crowded forest floor. She had to get home; her new husband would be expecting her. They had barely been married a fortnight and Hanna wanted to impress Eoghan. She ruffled her damp skirts and marched on. If she was where she thought she was, her modest cottage should be just around the bend. Moving on wobbly legs, Hanna let her muscles do the work, her mind still spinning. Finally, after what felt like much too long, the dusty road appeared in front of her, her home village, the one she had lived in since she was born, sprawled out below her. The sight of the tall church steeple filled her heart. Whatever had happened, maybe just a horrible dream, must be coming to an end. With wobbly confidence she marched down the road, across the burbling brook, and down into her home.  The sight of her blooming garden welcomed her, but it was, off. Her plants should just be sprouting, as she had planted them when she and Eoghan moved in after their wedding. But now, towering sunflowers and bright round full pumpkins filled the small space. She pushed it aside, eager to see her husband. Maybe she would rest and when she woke up all would make sense again. She lightly palpitated her head, could she have had a fall? Last winter old man Peter hit his head on his barn eaves and lost a full week from memory. Could that be it? No, It didn’t feel right, Hanna was grasping at straws. She approached her wooden door and before she could twist the handle, the door opened. Hanna bit back a gasp. She was staring at, herself. Tall with coiled auburn hair, a slender, pale face spattered with freckles. Hanna pinched her arm, hard. This had to be a dream. Worse, a nightmare.            “May I help you?” she heard herself ask. Hanna was speechless.            “Are you quite alright? You look as though you’ve had a fright.”            “I don’t…who are you?”            The woman’s eyes, her own eyes looking back at her, grew distrustful.            “My name is Hanna O’Murray. Who are you?”            “I’m…I’m Hanna O’Murray. This is my house. What is going on?”            The woman laughed, but the humor didn’t reach her eyes.            “You must have taken a fall. Either that or you’ve had too much ale before the Harvest’s eve festival. I suggest you make your way back into town. My husband will be home soon, and he doesn’t take too kindly to strangers.”            Hanna, though in disbelief, felt anger and bewilderment stir inside of her.            “Your husband?” She almost shouted. “Liar! This is my house and I don’t know what sorcery or tomfoolery you are trying to pull here but I demand you leave at once.”            The woman looked around, as though to make sure they were alone. When she turned back on Hanna her eyes had changed to a glowing yellow, her teeth grew long and sharp. Gently, she ran a clawed nail down Hanna’s cheek.            “My dear, my sweet, sweet child. You have been missing for months. You would have been dead if I hadn’t needed you alive to take your form. You were as good as lifeless from the moment I dropped you in that forest glen like a wet sack of sod. You simply do not exist anymore. I am Hanna O’Murray and you are nothing.”            Fear chilled Hanna’s insides. “I know what you are. You’re a fairy. A changeling. But that’s impossible, that’s just a story my mam told me as a child. This…this can’t be real.”            “Oh, it is. Now, begone before I change my mind and eat you.”            Hanna felt rooted in place, fear, and anger keeping her tethered. Suddenly, the sound of a horse came rolling up.            “Hullo, dear! Are you ready for the harvest festival? I hear Kian grew a pumpkin the size of his sheep!”            Eoghan, sweet Eoghan. Hanna felt tears well in her eyes when she looked at her husband. As he hopped off his horse and approached the house, his shining eyes changed to puzzlement. Hanna looked at the fairy to see her appearance had changed back.            “Eoghan, darling, this woman is sick. She is pretending to me be. She plans to kill me and be your wife.”            Eoghan’s dark eyes turned deadly as he rounded on Hanna. She had never seen such malice mar his face.            “She’s lying! She’s a fairy. Please, Eoghan, it’s me, Hanna. Your real wife!”            Eoghan looked back and forth from woman to woman.            “Eoghan, please kill her before she kills us! She’s a demon! You know it’s true.” Pleaded the fairy.            Eoghan took out the slender knife he always carried with him. He looked back and forth. Hanna could tell he didn’t know what to do.            “It’s me! I can prove it. We got married on March 15 in a tent in a beautiful flower field. All of our friends and family were there. It was the happiest day of our life.”            “Don’t listen to that demon, she’s tricking you! Kill her! Kill her now.”            Then, the fairy began to speak an ancient language under her breath. A language long forgotten. Eoghan turned on Hanna, his knife raised high. The fairy’s face turned ugly, saliva oozing from elongated teeth. Hanna met Eoghan’s eyes, and she knew before she felt the knife slip into the soft flesh of her belly. Warm blood seeped through her hands. She was no more.


My mother had a valid point that I wasn’t doing anything else, but that still didn’t mean I wanted to start packing or preparing my room to be turned over to one of my younger twin sisters the moment I left for the train station. After working day shifts at a summer camp in a nearby town (residency in the upscale suburb was required for attendance but apparently not cheap teenage labor) and night shifts at a steakhouse, and the usual unpaid labor at my father’s store, I had given myself two weeks off before leaving for college and was looking forward to doing as much nothing as possible.

There was no arguing with my mother though, she would nag me until I got something done, so the sooner I started the sooner I would have some peace. With a sigh and an exaggerated cat-like stretch, I closed my magazine and climbed off my bed to start sorting through the t-shirts in my dresser. Ten minutes later, with a large pile and a small save pile of my favorite sports shirts, I found a small, stained white t-shirt with an image of a regal calico cat with frost on her whiskers. “Inga: One of the Mount Washington Observatory’s Year-Round Personnel” it said. I smiled, remembering when I got it.

It was the summer between kindergarten and first grade, the year before my sisters were born. My father’s convenience store had turned a consistent profit for the preceding few years, and then he lucked into a windfall of free publicity and a moderate bonus for selling a winning lottery ticket. To my mother’s astonishment, he announced that he was closing the store for a long weekend and we were going on a vacation. Until that point, “vacation” had meant a trip into the city with my mother to see my cousins, which was still a treat for me at that age.  This time though my father was missing the mountains of his home country and because paying for a flight was still out of the realm of possibility, he decided to drive directly to the tallest mountain he could find. In retrospect, I don’t even know how he learned about Mount Washington before the internet, but there we found ourselves on a hot, cloudless day puttering up the winding road to the summit in our Ford Escort that smelled of mildew. My father shared facts about the mountain and comparisons with the mountains of his childhood in between admonishments to “look at that view! No people!”. Apparently, the line of cars in front of and behind us didn’t count. When we parked at the summit parking lot, my mother opened the passenger door and it was almost ripped free of the car frame by a gust of wind. She braced herself, telling my father to leave his hat (a faded New York Mets hat, not because he liked baseball but because he thought the font of the NY was elegant) in the car. I unbuckled myself and slid across the backseat to my mother’s outstretched hand, terrified and in awe of the otherworldly landscape.

We walked around the summit area, my father pointing out the nearby peaks, and had a stranger take a photo of us with our carefully rationed disposable camera at the high point sign. (When we got it developed my father was thrilled that the photo accurately depicted the wind with the hair on all three of our heads blowing to the left at a ninety-degree angle.) Before heading down, we wandered into the small observatory gift shop so my mother could use the bathroom. While my father browsed meteorology books, I fixated on a t-shirt with a cat on it, begging my father to buy it for me and ignoring his insistence that we couldn’t afford souvenirs and could barely afford this trip. At that age I already loved animals, and almost all of my clothes were hand-me-downs from my older male cousins. The older woman behind the counter heard me and bent down to a hidden corner, popping back up a minute later with the live version of the cat on the t-shirt. Six-year-old me was ecstatic!

“Her name is Inga,” the kind, frizzy-haired woman said. “She’s very friendly. You can pet her, just don’t touch her belly.”

My father lifted me up so that I could gently stroke her head and back. Her fur was incredibly silky and she purred contentedly, rubbing her head on my hand.

“She doesn’t mind the cold, but she doesn’t like cars much, so she usually stays in here during the busy times,” she continued. I nodded sagely. If I was a calico cat who lived on a mountaintop, I wouldn’t like the cars either. My mother came out of the bathroom as I was telling the lady behind the counter about my plans to be a “dog and cat doctor”, and my father put me down, murmuring that we needed to get back on the road before the weather got worse. “I just realized,” the woman behind the counter said to him thoughtfully, “I have an Inga shirt back here that was sized wrong. Why don’t you take it for your little girl? It’s going to be big on her now but it can be a dress, and then a shirt when she grows up to be a cat doctor.” My father, never one to trust a gift, opened his mouth to refuse buy my mother silenced him with a single look, icier than the howling wind, and reached across the counter to take the shirt.

“Thank you so much ma’am, that is so kind of you,” she said, having learned most of her English from watching Gone with the Wind on repeat. “What do you say,” she asked me. “Thank you very much ma’am. Thank you,” I said, grinning widely at the lady, and the shirt, and the real live cat on the counter.

Looking at the shirt again in my bedroom, I knew I should just get rid of it – even if it still fit, I was already going to be the scholarship kid, I couldn’t be the stained-clothes kid too – but I couldn’t. As I re-folded it to add to the “save” pile, an idea flashed across my brain. I had spent the last six years doing every extracurricular activity and after school job I could cram into my schedule, knowing that my only chance of going to college and becoming a veterinarian was to get a scholarship. I had convincingly debated issues I didn’t fully understand, won varsity letters in soccer, winter track, and softball, won two essay contests, tutored for the SATs within months of acing the SATs, and unloaded innumerable cartons of assorted preserved foods onto the shelves of the family store at the beginning and end of the days. My parents encouraged all of it, living their American dream through the goals they set for me. Despite getting into Dartmouth, I couldn’t go to the Ivy League school in the mountains because Boston College, the only urban campus I had applied to, had given me nearly a full academic scholarship but that was fine, I was just happy to be getting out of suburban New Jersey. I sat cross-legged on the faded rug next to my bed and started checking car rental prices and trail maps, solidifying a plan to steal a little bit of freedom and adventure, and pay homage to my six-year-old self before truly becoming an adult. Seven days later, I woke up in the backseat of my rental car in the Pinkham Notch visitors center parking lot, the start of the hike up Mount Washington. Telling my parents I had to be on campus early for “scholarship orientation” I had taken the train from Penn Station to Boston, dropped my suitcases and had a restless night of sleep on my cousin’s friend’s couch, and then leisurely driven the four hours up from Boston. The sun was just clearing the surrounding mountains and there was not a cloud in the sky. I double-checked my pack, double-checked that the car key was not in the trunk and the car was locked, and trudged over to the trailhead. Humble to a fault, within an hour in I realized I had been arrogant to assume that running around with elementary school kids all summer had been adequate training for a hike like this. The trail was comprised entirely rocks of irregular shapes and variable sizes, and the closer I got to the summit, the steeper it got. I had plenty of food and water and the sky remained clear and blue which could never be taken for granted on this mountain, but damn was I tired. Finally, I caught a glimpse of the small observatory at the summit, which gave me a burst of strength for the last push up steep boulders.

After catching my breath, I found a place to sit down and scarfed down a peanut butter sandwich, then took a few photos before heading into the gift shop. There was no trace of Inga but there were t-shirts with the picture of a very handsome cat apparently named Nin. I smiled, happy that the Mount Washington weather observatory continued to be governed by a feline.

 As I walked behind the observatory to see the view from the other side, I was stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of a girl who could have been me or one of my sisters from behind. She had the same dirty sneakers and clothes that didn’t fit quite right, and the same messy braid. Shaking off the odd sensation, I noticed she was petting a white cat with a black spot on his back. Just as I noticed the cat, she noticed me. “This is Nin!” she told me excitedly. “He helps keep mice away. I like mice, but I like cats more,” she continued, “when I grow up I’m going to be a big cat scientist, to help keep them from being extinct.” Her mother took in the dried sweat on my shirt and my oversized pack. “Let’s let this woman get back to her hike, honey,” she said, smiling at me apologetically. Turning from them, I dashed back into the gift shop, not wanting to give them time to leave, and purchased a Nin shirt on the credit card my father had helped me open the week before for emergency use only. Speed walking back to where I had seen them, I thrust the small brown shopping bag at the girl’s mother, realizing I didn’t know what to say. “I bought this for your little girl, I hope that’s ok,” I said, fumbling for a better explanation. “It’s uh, it’s kind of a long story, but I just wanted her to have it.” Confused for a moment, the mother looked into the bag. “Look Priya, it’s a kitty shirt! What do you say to the nice lady?” “Thank you lady!” the little girl trilled obediently, beaming at the shirt, then me, then Nin who was slinking away behind a rock.


No matter how hard he tries, Madoc still couldn't manage to fit in with the Goya family. Despite his relationship with Wesley being in a good place, he hasn't managed to reach the same level of eccentricity it takes to fit into his family. They were loud, out-spoken, brazen, and weird. Every reason was part of why he loved them all so much. From an outside perspective, the Goya family was a regular Addams family, but to him, they were the family he always wished he had growing up. So when the biggest family event arrives, Madoc knows the best way to prove that he truly belongs in the family is to win the trophy. This was an annual tradition that dates back years, and no one in the family can agree on just who started it.

"What has you in such a thoughtful mood?" Wesley asks. He had returned from his snack run to find Madoc gazing at the lawn musingly, which in certain places would make sense, but Wesley had specifically chosen a boring patch of grass to picnic on. "Just trying to figure out how I'm supposed to know which ball is mine." Searching for a croquet ball wasn't what he thought his boyfriend meant when he said they had to find their weapon of choice.

"It's a bit like adopting a pet," Wesley explains, setting a little wicker basket down in front of Madoc before plopping down next to him. "Oh, they aren't sentient," he hurries to explain. Madoc's look of panic recedes to one Wesley interprets as interest. "They're animated and all, but they don't have feelings." "You hit animated objects around a field..." He barely makes it out of the way of an oncoming blur that whirls past him. "What was that?!" Madoc looks up to see a croquet ball lodged in a tree. "Please tell me that one isn't mine..."

"Aw, you got chosen first!" Wesley plucks the croquet ball from the tree and wrestles it into the crook of his arm. "A competitive one, too!" "That one's really mine..?" He stares at the ball. The last thing he wanted was crazed sports equipment trying to behead him. He carefully takes it from Wesley. "This feels more like it will kill me..." The croquet ball goes still the moment it's in Madoc's hands.

"See?" Wesley says. "It's yours!" "Yay..." Madoc stares at it. And just like that, he thought this would be the weirdest moment of his day. He was wrong. The field was a simple assortment of grass, grass, and more grass. The occasional tree would provide an obstacle for the croquet balls to shoot through - or into if they were like Madoc's ball. He watches as the ball once again looped around a tree before finally going through the appropriate wickets. To add to his frustration, he had to listen to Wesley's Uncle Wilder bragging about how it was his wife Trio that came up with the game, to begin with.

"Uncle Wilder is a liar," Wesley's sister Meadow says mildly. "Everyone but him accepts that Aunt Trio is terrible at all things sports," Wesley agrees. "Though I don't really have a leg to stand on," he sighs, watching as his croquet ball ambles through the tall reedy grass on a mission only it knows. Madoc yelps when his croquet ball leaps back around and nearly beheads him … again. "I don't see why that one has to be mine..." He sighs. "Then who did make up the came?"

"I'm telling you," Wilder interjects, walking up with a croquet mallet over his shoulder. "Trio was the one that made it up. She was seventeen and - honey, tell them the story," he encourages, nudging his wife. "I was seventeen," Trio says grandly, her croquet bat nestled in her arms like an awkward baby. "It was summertime, and all my peers were bored..." Wesley shoots Madoc a pained look. "I was something of a leader then," Trio says, her tone confiding. "So, of course, it was only natural that I took charge. 'Family,' I said, 'it is a beautiful day, why don't we go out and explore the grounds?'" "And explore they did," Wilder said proudly, taking her hand and kissing it.

"We were at this very spot when I suggested we come up with our very own game," Trio continues, beaming at her husband. "I insisted we use croquet balls, and here we are!" Madoc found the easiest way to deal with the Goya family was to agree with all of them. So he did. And then, when they finally go to the end of the field and finally got to let the evil little croquet ball go, he found that the next stage in the game was to swim across the lake. The lake that the family's pet alligator tended to lurk. An idea that didn't fill him with much confidence. But it was either continue with the game or listen to Clo talk about how she was the one who came up with the game. Not her sister Trio.

"Swim away," Violet, Clo's youngest daughter, advises. "Mom won't shut up for at least an hour." He should have taken her advice. Clo's next comment was about how she made up the game after getting into a race with Strawberry - the family's pet alligator. "So you see, I took off swimming as fast as I could because I was still unsure about the relationship between us and was fairly sure that he was going to eat me." She laughs, a cross between a cackle and a snort. "And then I made it to the other side, found a croquet ball, and then that's when I thought, 'hey, this should be a game.' So you see how it was me."

"How dare you!" Trio cries. "Strawberry would never chase anyone, and even if he did, you wouldn't have been able to outswim him!" By the time that argument ended, and the sisters were yelling at each other, Madoc decided it was a better idea to jump into the lake. By the time he made it to the other side without drowning - though a slight incident halfway through nearly gave Wesley a heart attack, and now Madoc has proof that his boyfriend will come to save him - he felt like a monster that came out of a swamp. "Whoever came up with this part should pay," Wesley says darkly, shaking himself off like a dog. Muck goes flying but not enough to make much difference. "Well, if they ever decide who actually did it..." Madoc grumbles. He was starting to think impressing Wesley's family was a dead end. "I honestly doubt it was anyone still alive," Wesley says, coming over to swipe at Madoc's clothes. "Most of our inventors don't live long." "Then why does everything think they made it up?" His question receives an answer from Wesley's great aunt Euphemia.

"Because they all want credit for my idea," she insists. "I remember it from decades ago. We were playing this with our parents, and well, we didn't have a gator then, but our cousin would chase after us with a stick, so that was pretty close."

"Now that I believe," Wesley says. "Too much sense," Meadow says, giving her great aunt a skeptical look. "How did you come up with the idea?" "Easy, we were whacking balls - tennis, I believe it was at the time - and then we started to race. Had a wild hair and took a leap into the lake." Euphemia was proud of her answer, so Madoc wanted to believe her.

"I really want to believe you, great aunt Euphemia, but..." Violet glances at Wesley for help. "But it just seems so unlike you to be wild like that," Wesley says quickly. Thankfully they didn't get to hear the end as the bell rang for them to race through the obstacle course. In hindsight, Madoc should have predicted that it would be a series of strange and unusual activities. He also should have predicted that he was dead last when Ferry - Wesley's grandmother and matriarch of the family - started walking with him. But her encouragement was infectious.

"What a fun game!" Ferry enthuses. "Thank you so much for running with me, dear." "Thanks... Though I lost..." And made a fool of himself in front of the entire family. "There will always be winners and losers," Ferry says. "What's important is, did you enjoy yourself?" "... Sure." Madoc rubs his arms. He felt like he was a walking swamp and felt humiliated, but he didn't see the point in telling her the whole ordeal. "Though I can't find Wesley." "Oh, didn't you hear? Wesley fell in a hole!" Ferry shakes her head. "These kids and their pitfalls." "What?" Madoc practically shouts. "What hole?!" "You know," Ferry says, gesturing over her shoulder. "One of those." Madoc groans. What was with the holes? "I don't understand how anyone could have thought up this game." "Oh, you can thank my dad's dad's dad for this," Ferry says helpfully. "My grandpa always used to say his grandpa was a prankster and a half!" "And so he made up this whole game?" Madoc asks, gesturing around him.

"Believe it or not, this is simple compared to what he and his brothers did. A single game took three days to play!" Madoc didn't even want to think about three days of this. "Thanks for toning it down..." "You're welcome!" Ferry grins. "Now, maybe you should go find your man?"