My New Year's Thoughts and Resolutions for 2020 (update for ya'll in here)

New Year's Resolutions for 2020
Date Written: Jan 7-10

(Disclaimer: This journal is what I thought 2020 was going to be like in January, not now...)

Greeting my fellow readers, how has your March break going? Mine has been going extremely well but I would be lying if I said that. My break has been a bit boring...maybe a little TOO boring. All I have been doing is watching DanTDM livestreams (recommended) on the new Animal Crossing: New Horizons game and I've been enjoying it since it's quite close to his Tomodachi series he did a couple of years ago. Other than YouTube videos, I just have been daydreaming about random things and just lying on my bed, taking in my blank ceiling. Self-isolating myself for the last 9 days haven't been the greatest as I was sick an hour ago for not getting fresh air. What can you say? I'm a hummingbird when it comes to nature. 

I have been thinking of doing some type of Q&A for you guys so you can get to know me beyond my writing and adequate profile. Maybe leave in the comments on what questions I can answer for you guys. 

But on the real side, 2020 has been not been going as we intended. We all thought 2020 was a fresh start to everything with a whole new decade. The 2010s are going to be behind us as we settle in for a new future and generation. It's only been the third month of the year and all I can say is, "why?" Why did 2020 have to be this bad on everyone's part? Habitats, homes and lives have been taken from many. All we can pray for is a healthy recovery from the tragedy that has occurred in the past months. The bad thing is is that it hasn't even ended. 

I hate to bring it up but COVID-19 has taken many things from us. It cancelled out school for an extra two weeks after spring break and made us stay home and the government might extend it for a month now! Canada hasn't gone through lockdown but I soon know we will go through the harsh procedure that many cities and countries have gone through. Many celebrities have been affected so hopefully people will take this more seriously. All I can say is stay safe and be there for your loved ones. I hope you enjoy this <3




- Varshini






“Bye 2019, hello 2020” is a saying that my best friend, Vaishna adduced and I couldn't agree more. I can’t believe it’s 2020! It’s the start of a new year, a new decade and a new era. Well, a new era applies to a lot of social media influencers that I love. This is the epoch on where new inventions will be made, competitive choices on prices for the environment will be established and Japan building a robotic moonbase. I’ve been exquisitely excited for this year for some reason. Maybe it’s the reason that I'm attending 2 marriages this year and I’m going to be 13! A teenager!!!



Everyone sets New Year’s resolutions but do they stick with it for the next 366 days? I think there’s an obvious answer. No. 80% of people fail at their New Year’s resolutions. I am ashamed to say that I’m part of that 80%. I’m pretty sure I’ve done my New Year’s resolutions without knowing it was my resolution. I feel like I know why so many New Year’s resolutions end in failure. One of the biggest reasons people fail to keep up their resolutions is because they’re not specific enough. For example, resolving to “exercise more” or “lose weight” are the easiest ways to set yourself up to fail. That 2-word unspecific goal lacks ways to mark progress and is unlikely to keep you motivated for the year. Another problem people face when making resolutions is framing them with negative language. When people resolve to stop eating junk food, for example, it often backfires because it makes them think about the very thing they’re trying to avoid. A further obstacle people face is the tendency to make New Year’s resolutions that don't reflect what they actually want. They say that the biggest culprits are dieting and exercising.



When 2020 struck, my creative juices started flowing through my head with 4 New Year resolutions! I feel like 2020 is going to be my year and I will try super hard to keep these up. My goal is to keep my marks steady at the place I want them to be. It might be a ritual that my marks slope down near the end of the school year since the eleation of getting out of school fills me. That’s not going to happen this year. This is mostly in math and science, two subjects I want to do very well. You might be in confusion since I’m very good at math but I never seem to get perfect on quizzes or tests. It’s mostly careless mistakes but focusing on these two subjects will make this goal concrete and measurable. What’s my plan, you may ask? I plan to concentrate a lot of my work at school, go to open-study for three out of the five days and review any worksheets we got. These are some easy steps to be successful in my goal. A big support system is my dad since he’s the mathematician in the family and whenever I don’t understand something, I’ll go over to him. I made a deal with him that when I get 3 perfects on tests or quizzes, he will buy me a big ice-cap. I will taste victory in that ice-cap.



This next goal is something I have never attempted to do. A few of my cousins and one of my friends have done this. It’s public speaking. Yes, an introvert does public speaking in front of people she doesn’t know. I did a presentation in October in front of my class and I’ve realized that public speaking could be a thing for me. I’ve tried making a speech that has my voice, strength and ideas. I haven’t done the best of that yet but not to worry! I think my goal is concrete and measurable if I follow through with the plan. I got this journal where I will first put speech titles. Then what I want in that speech and after order on how I will say it. There are many public speaking events and competitions so I can apply to any. My teacher, friends and family can all support this because I’m doing something that you wouldn’t catch me doing with a dead eye. I’m not that person to stay in the spotlight and show off to everyone so I’m coming out of my cocoon for this one. I feel like if my first speech goes how I attended then the excitement for that will make me want to do more speeches. That would be my reward; pursuing a hobby.



My third goal is carved deep in my heart. That sounds very dramatic. This part of them is probably carved deep in everyone’s heart. It’s my language. Yes, speaking my language. I should be speaking Tamil at home but I speak English because it’s easiest for me. Now thinking about it, I regret not doing it sooner. I’m going to India and Sri Lanka for a reception. They speak no other language than Tamil. How can I communicate with them if I don’t know the language that well? This goal is quite strong concrete and measurable since there's only one step. Speak Tamil at home and my relatives’ parties. I will say that I do know the words I have a big problem with pronunciation. An obvious support system is my parents and relatives because they keep telling me to speak Tamil but time for them to think I changed? That sounds horrible. My favourite cultural drink I LOVE is falooda. It’s this pink sweet creamy drink with rose syrup, sweet basil seeds and ice cream. I mean who wouldn't love that? I haven’t had one since the summer so it will be nice to have that refreshing taste of success.



My last resolution is something I’ve been working on since the summer. I don’t understand how I will get this done in a year since it would be the biggest accomplishment I’ve ever done. A 13-year-old girl publishes her original novel. I wonder who that would be? I’ve been working on a romance novel over the summer and the idea came when I was lying on my bed. I thought of the next seven chapters in my head like it was a movie. It was like an all-day daydream. Everyone around me told me I was a gifted child when it came to writing. I want to make my parents proud of me, knowing I’m an author. This goal may not be that much like concrete whereas there would be writing the book, editing it, revising it, sending it over to a publisher, making the cover and spending over a hundred dollars for it to be in my hands. I expect from myself to have a finished novel by July. Edited, revised and cover made in August and sent to publishers in October. My teachers, family and friends can support me as I start a new chapter in my life. I’ve seen that authors make a launch party for their book so I may do the same.



I truly feel bad for you guy reading this seven paragraphed journal but I honestly put the hours in, day and night. Hopefully, this would be the year where I accomplish some of my goals. Now knowing how to tackle my resolutions and what to expect, I am ready for the upcoming months. That’s how you know I am ready for 2020.

Forgone Ancestors (Inspired by Chicken Girls on Brat TV)

Forgone Ancestors

3 Girls on a Quest to Discover their Vatican Ancestors

Varshini Thulasiranjan

Inspired by the YouTube Series "Chicken Girls" on Brat TV

One in a Thousand Opportunities

March 14, 2020

Dear Diary,

You are probably waiting for another lame excuse of “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” That’s an excuse that everyone scrawls down first before telling anything that’s motioned through their lives. It’s true though, things have changed here in Attaway. Between T.K being here for good ever since the big divorce, having Britney as Co-Editor and Chief, and trying to manage schoolwork, the Chicken Girls, and my relationships with Astrid and Wes, it’s been a crazy start to 2020. A new age. A new age for me, Rhyme McAdams. Editor and Chief Rhyme who would 've been totally over T.K if he didn’t show up out of the blue.

“Out of the blue,” did I just concoct a pun? Am I getting old? I’m only in my sophomore year of high school. Well, I’m more in blue, with Astrid and Harmony. What it felt like a couple of years ago, feeling like everyone is moving forward with their lives and I’m just stuck in one place, unable to reach open doors? Oh, that changed. I’m zooming through with writing opportunities. Too fast for me to handle. But this is a one in a thousand opportunities. I, Rhyme McAdams, am invited by Joandra Zachary, Rome’s most famous writer to Vatican City.

Lots of Love, Rhyme



Sunset City Brings a New Dawn


March 15, 2020

Dear Diary,

I know I left you in a shocker but I was in blue. But I felt more above the horizons with the rich hues of pink, periwinkle and purple. It was a long journey of a non-stop 12 hours flight. It’s at least I can do for Astrid. I know that sounds uncanny for me to write down in words, let alone say out of my own mouth. When Astrid’s mom (Aunt Colleen) abruptly arrives at Attaway to seize Astrid’s paycheck she earned from Junior’s, I’m beginning to think if my life will line up exactly like Aunt Colleen. “You remind me of myself when I was your age. I loved writing!” I soon found out she was exaggerating by Astrid. As you know Astrid and her mom don’t really get along anymore with the whole family drama that eventuated at the beginning of last year. In the starting point of her moving in and making a mess, I thought Aunt Colleen would come back for her again and before, it would’ve been a relief. I would have my room uncluttered, my best friends and Wes back again. She peculated them under my eye but me being selfish I could ever be, I misunderstood. I never knew how it felt like to go through such drama. Especially with people who I truly love.

I haven’t lost my memory, don’t agonize. If I did lose my memory, I would be going back to middle school when things were completely normal. When the biggest drama of my life was not making the dance team. When Ellie would go back to her Henry days. You know that I think things were better then but I don’t want to go back to when Ellie was obsessed with Henry. The last year of middle school is when it all started. The Drama. The worst but a special chapter of my life. The Chicken Girls paths were like a diamond. We all stuck close with each other but then we all went through a separate trail. It was as if each path had its own fortune but each fortune brought us back together at the end. Besides the past, I hope this is a simple vacation because Astrid is grief-stricken that her mom has been bailing her to do something else “important.” Mom has been like another mother to her but sometimes, it just doesn’t feel the same.

Writing about the past brought me to the point that I’m homesick. Maybe that’s because we haven’t done anything exhilarating. Like meeting Joandra Zachary or seeing the Vatican museum. Wes gave me his blessing to be safe and he’s proud of me, getting to where I was meant to be. 2 entries ago, I asked why it was impossible to get over first love. I can say this is another one of my getaways from Attaway. Our view from the hotel is pulchritudinous. I peer through the big-screened window and what I saw; it took my breath away. The most prestigious buildings were made with a glossy stone, alive with lights as if someone through a handful of softened glitter. The olden stone bridge with specks of dirt was over the clear azure water that rippled in the tranquillizing air. The lights gleamed off the river, exposing the marbled pebbles underneath. I sighed, amazed at the view laid before me. This is what I call Sunset City. The Sunset City that will open me to a new dawn. Hopeful dawn that won’t leave me in regret. Wish me luck.

Lots of Love, Rhyme



Small Boated Writer


March 16, 2020

Dear Diary,

My writing opportunity, my writing confidence, my writing dream feels like it’s barely clinging on to the cliff from cascading down the void of mishappening dreams. “A person falling off a cliff to certain death will stretch out a hand even to his worst enemy” is a quote Wes poetically texted me during the hour when I nearly thought I cascaded into the void. I guess this certain death is failing in my accomplishments and my worst enemy is her words. Yes, her words. These certain words felt like someone turned off the lights in my head, feeling panic-stricken by the darkness and the imaginary monster that awakened at 3 am. Too much? It’s a story I typed for Ms. Zachary to read. It has a better storyline than the vague sentence I summarized it in, anonymously. At least I thought it had one. I think I’m leaving you in anxiousness about what really happened.

Vatican City during the day looked like every day to day city but the ashy grey roads were packed with tourists as we passed by them in an old-school cab. Harmony pulled down the window and started sermonizing people with her lavishing Hollywood lines from a few years ago. I evoked here that we weren’t in Attaway or Milwood. Milwood? Harmony was mysteriously moved to Milwood middle school and she hasn’t been enjoying it that much as she’s teased by the dance team that she’s from Attaway. At least we don’t disclude people even if they were our “rivals.” No offence to Autumn. The early spring weather was giving the aroma of summer-infused breeze, as the rays of the sun reflected on my sun, bringing out my roasted almond eyes. Until we got there, I scrolled through the photos Wes and I took before I left. I will say it’s been a great time so far with Astrid and Harmony but I miss Wes. Even more heading to Joandra’s writing studio. Maybe he is my second love because every time I think of him, my heart melts to a puddle of gold. My heart rate was quickly surpassing its beat, my stomach dropping down to the floor as we pulled over to the sidewalk in front of her studio.

The building was quite spacious and glossed over. It was a brick building with tiling around the arch windows and entranceway. The marble staircase was contrasted by the heat from today’s weather. Inside had an arched ceiling with gemmed grooves, filling it with its pattern. There were grey and beige marbled columns that went high up and down were the interesting tile floorings. Many of the walls were glass, clasping her different writing projects and work. An elevator trip later, I entered her room, leaving a sweaty hand impression on the handle as I walked in. I adjusted my blue jumpsuit as I let out a nervous breath and sat down on the chair. It was quite casual between us first which gave me more credence. But the credence slowly crumbled, crumpled and crumbled until it was like the remains of rust on an aged car. Her face drooped as she read through my work and my face started feeling internally hot as if lava was lining through my mind. Astrid and Harmony came back in the room, and I will say that Astrid’s cheeks were flushed. What’s happening, Astrid? Right away, the first thing that Ms. Zachary does criticize my work. Then she went on to my focus and well-being. Did she have the highest expectations that I couldn’t reach? Were Attaway’s expectations lower than I anticipated?

An hour later, we were downstairs in the lobby and Joandra came back and she acted as nothing happened between us. Like she had a fondness for my work and Appeal newsletters. Tell me again about a grey face. We went back to our hotel, but I was feeling timid, unsure and most of all them incapable. It felt like my hard work was on a small boat, slowly sinking down to the trenches. My work was on a paper boat not on a yacht-like Joandra’s. I don’t want to lose hope but am I a small boated writer? Wish me luck!

Lots of Love, Rhyme



The Obscured Side


March 17, 2020

Dear Diary,

The family had a deeper meaning than I apprehended. I thought the whole meaning of family was parents, siblings, relatives and of course, friends. I only like the writing part in history class, I never noticed about past ancestors. I know everyone thinks this but I thought my ancestors weren’t that interesting born in some part of America, building their lives of Attaway and here we are. How intriguing, right? My parents recall haven’t grazed upon where we actually came from that much. They always just said, “someplace in Europe.” Quite interesting on my behalf. Now thinking about it, are my parents embarrassed about where they come from? That should be a Hey, Harmony forum for me to write about in the Attaway Appeal. I haven’t been checking Hey, Harmony that much but Britney imparted she will take care of the Appeal for the week I’m off. I feel bad she has to deal with Arthur’s amazing topics on pills, medication and cafeteria food. This is definitely a getaway.

I went out on the balcony to feel the sunny sensation on my skin. I savoured it as long as I could until my mind knew it was time to get ready for another round of criticism. Is this how Ellie felt in middle school when Robin Robins reprobate her voice. Ellie was considered the best singer at school and since Tim left, I’m considered the best writer at Attaway High. They bumped me up to the Junior and Senior level when I’m only a mere Sophomore. Considering this was vacation is mostly spotlighted on Astrid, she’s distracting herself with something. More like someone. Ever since Astrid and I both liked Wes, she hasn’t really been chattering about guys, especially to me whereas I’m fully committed to Wes. I think you can see where I’m going with this unconventional topic. Yeah, she’s occupied with another guy, Marcus, the son of Joandra. I don’t want to seem like I’m crashing her parade but if he’s anything like Ms.Zachary, I would stake a “Steer Clear” sign on his foot. Maybe a bit too brutal.

Yesterday, I showed my previous English undertakings but now it’s the undertaking in front of her. A harder plummet to the ground, through the chair. My hands were shaky when I started typing, already yielding for the incoming aspersion. I pegged my story title on the keyboard and contemplated on a hook to hang the reader with my mellifluous words. “We don’t have time to daydream,” Joandra derived over and over. It’s like she thinks I’m full of ideas on how to start and end. If I don’t have a good beginning to inspire me, I don’t feel motivated to flow my ideas out of my head and on to a document. Ten minutes go by and she gives up on me, thinking that I wanted to be like her, wanting to ditch my life in Attaway so I can become a notorious writer. How can I ditch my “dreary” life in Attaway just so I can become a famous writer? The thought of it eats me up inside. I trotted out of the room, dejected of the decision. Until I got the idea of doing a story that put my 500% into it, not my normal standards that everyone knows I have. Astrid and Harmony came through the entrance, with a scroll in her hand. A scroll from the Vatican archives. The scroll is mentioned in an ancient language but had the name of McAdams. A light in my head zoomed back to when I had the thoughts of my ancestors. The obscured side of the forgotten family history. The exploit begins. Wish me luck.

Lots of Love, Rhyme



The Conscious Possibilities


March 18, 2020

Dear Diary,

The quest buzzed me with electricity, bringing me back to when Tim did the article, exposing Robin Robins. I didn’t take part in it as Harmony set me up with 4 diner dates and it didn’t go as intended. But the past is the past and that escapade may as well stay there too. After a nostalgic dream of mine, I slowly opened. At first, everything was blurry and for the slightest second for the first time in so long, I asked: “who am I?” I whined myself up, breathing heavily. I remembered who I was; Rhyme McAdams. Tell me again about amnesia. My arms felt weak, like my energy. I let out an exasperated sigh as I rolled off from the bed and my marbles clicked; ancestors. I quickly got as I quickly typed up to Attaway’s genealogical database to type my surname. Astrid and Harmony followed me on to the bed as tension builds up in my head. The heartbeat in my chest was taking over as the only sound I heard in my ears, pounding. The numbness in my wrist orbited to my fingers, sparking in anxiety. As if my fingers were getting nervous too. I extended them and typed in, M-C-A-D-A-M-S.

“Server did not identify the surname,” it recalled. Not identified frightened me, not having a chance to show Joandra that I’m a young writer who has capabilities. Now don’t get me wrong, everyone has capabilities but my writing orb could evolve into something new. They both lost hope but then I adduced, “What happens if McAdams wasn’t originated from Attaway?”

They both looked up with a twinkle of hope in their eyes. There is a likelihood that my prophecy is right. I was enlivened by the idea of this quest but I had that gut feeling that McAdams wasn’t us. I just didn’t want to neglect the thrill of this. I asked Astrid for the scroll and tried to understand the somewhat English in its form. The word “Lincaway” caught my eye as it had the same ending as Attaway. I quickly searched up Lincaway and it was a 17th-century city but later renamed as Attaway. Our mouths dropped from this discovery that the whole town has been living under a rock for. I staggered in this new information. Now, this is a good article for the Attaway Appeal. I got off and my body’s momentum felt like it was collapsing into heaps.

The day passed by to the evening as the sun went down the horizon. The evening sent the birds away to their roosts and the crickets to sing in the swaying grass. The cloudless caliginous sky promised an unfettered view of the heavens of the city. The lights looked like the fireflies that lit up during the 4th of July parade back home. I gave an oath to my grandparents that I will video call them every now and then. I think now would be a good time, especially after getting the revolting news. We talked and Harmony urged us to ask about our Vatican ancestors and I held her back from telling, gripping her wrist. She prematurely asks and they first pretend like they didn’t know even though Astrid heard them talking about it when she was a tween. We talked about the scroll and the fact that it had McAdams and Lincaway on it. Then they decided to leak the truth.

“Your grandfather had a research project occurring before you were born. It was a high scheme in his life but he couldn’t get enough information to make a confirmation. Lincaway was Attaway in the 17th century and for half of the 16th century, they were making the agreement for America, the states and our town. Our very town was the first town made in America’s history. Our ancestors are certainly from Vatican City whereas they were involved in the world-famous Sistine Chapel and-”

On the spur of the moment of getting more information, the connections cut from the distance our call was. I closed the laptop, respiring the breath I held in. There can be conscious possibilities of how they were involved. One thing I knew for sure is our next destination was the Sistine Chapel. Wish me luck!

Lots of Love, Rhyme



The Divulged Ménage Truth


March 19, 2020

Dear Diary,

What a week! Well more like an adventure since this week is not over. The amusement could have lasted longer but I’m not starting a life here. I only have so much more time until I fly back to reality. I don’t talk about flying back to Attaway to Astrid considering all the fun she has been having with Marcus. All we need is her heart to tear again. To fill you in with Astrid’s love life, she’s been having her thoughts up in the fluff topped clouds. A lot of small talk, stares, cuddles and arm around each other. What’s next, kissing? Hope not, it would pull her heartstrings at the end. Now you’re probably asking how we got into the Sistine Chapel. Marcus actually had some tickets he bought 2 months in advance and was saving it for a few of his friends for the break until they had their own plans. We went in a beehive yellow cab and had a 20-minute drive of the beautiful sights that appeared. Even if they weren’t tourist attractions, it was still divine. Bands blared in the distance and crowds cheered enthusiastically. The marble buildings tower over the hordes of people. I pulled down my window to whiff tantalizing scents of the bakery that waft through the breeze. I imagined the creme brulee from here. The stiff creamy, sweet and cold taste lingered my tongue till we arrived at the Vatican Museum.

It looked like a serene palace made from Asia, the side buildings were like tall houses with the same rectangular windows going up to down. The middle was a masterpiece made in the architectural world. There was a paved trail up to the high doors of the museum. I can’t explain it, it still makes me speechless. We walked in and I was even more mind-blown from the inside. An arched roof hung above us with different frescoes, wall carvings and gothic art pressed against the wall. Statues and sculptures were on display with their matte stones. The floor tiles were line fine art with aged colours rather than the more modern colours like teal, Fushia and such on. The museum is crazy packed with tourists and we made our way to a crepuscular corner all the way at the end of the museum where no one was around. Harmony hid behind me as even she was scared. Harmony! The boldest and confident sister you can ask for. A high-security guard was in front of a semi-functional door. Marcus showed him his credentials and there we went in. Into a dim hallway that smelled like decade-old newspapers.

An attic shutter sealed the smell in from the rest of the hallway. Marcus got the creaky splintered wood ladder down for us to climb. First me, then Harmony and obviously Marcus and Astrid together at the end. I rolled my eyes and my eyes widened at the view I was set on. I couldn’t move my feet. It was the Sistine Archives filled with crazy amounts of old pictures, files, military records, diplomas, report cards and a pile of course diaries, letters and postcards. We started scavenging away through the piles and files. It was like a treasure hunt until Astrid yanked out the file that was fonted in an inky pen “Magnus McAdams.” They insisted that I read it, handing me the dusty envelope. I clenched it tightly, digging my nails in the soft woven envelope. I slowly opened it as my heart was throbbing against the cage of my chest. I bit my lip while I was unfolding the paper. I read it with my pulsate eyes and found out that Magnus McAdams is our ancestors from the 16th century.

“He was an interior architect for the Sistine Chapel and was a Catholic until he mysteriously disappeared from his job and fled off to the US to be with his beloved, Cassia McAdams. He was the interior architect for another church connecting to the Sistine Chapel but they threatened to leave the love of his life when she fell ill. It was either his career or love but he chose Cassie,” I read out loud. Everyone stood in their places dazed upon the discovery. This was the divulged ménage truth that 3 sisters discovered for them. Us but what will I do with this? Wish me luck with this

Lots of Love, Rhyme



The Liberate Chronicle Orb


March 21, 2020

Dear Diary,

I promised I would write in you every day of this trip but I was focusing on writing something else. Don’t worry, I’m not replacing you. I was writing the adventure down so I can show Joandra that I’m habile enough to be the writer I need to be. I renamed all of us, I’m Annie, Harmony is Hailey, Astrid is Pilot and Marcus is Romeo. I know, these are the most random names but it was the first names that popped into my head, weirdly. It took me day and night to finish it and it was worth it at the end because I wrote like a totally different person. In a good way. I wrote like a high experience author who can write about anything. Even though I know she can’t turn this down, I still had a feeling her expectations are at the end of my fingertips, barely reaching it but not holding on. I was sweating profusely, unsure if I really put mine all into this. Not my all, my LIFE into this. I exhaled deeply and strutted out confidently and when I was in front of her door, I took another deep breath and headed in.

At first, she didn’t give me attention from the impression she’d seen before but I cleared my voice and she looked up as I read the words with character, hooking her on every word, just how I intended. When I finished, she stood up clapped loudly, pleased by my work. She thinks I got it from her but I explained it came from my heart, my voice and my strength. No one else. Just me. We talked more and she admits she shouldn’t have put me down at the end. That’s how a feminist speaks out and I’ve learned that from last year when I was unaware that I started a movement against Home Economics. I hid in the shadows while everyone stood out on the big stage. I’ve learned there's always room for everyone, not certain people. Each person has their own talent and brawn like how Ellie has her talent for speech and debate or how Rooney has a talent for photography. I wish I can travel back in time and give my younger self advice then I would have been so much farther than I am now. But I couldn’t sulk on where I’m at now. The place I’m at is somewhere I should be proud of not pouting that I’m not where I expected to be. So many unexpected things happen to my writing aptitude like being Editor and Chief, having many cover stories on the Appeal or getting invited by Joandra.

Living life spontaneously is what I’ve struggled with but now I’m just flowing along with it. Controlling how things should be is not the point of life, it’s to be pushed forward. As it’s my last full day in Vatican City, my writing orb had freed itself on starting a new era. Wish me luck.

Lots of Love, Rhyme



A Journey’s End


March 22, 2020

Dear Diary,

I’m back in the blue again. It’s mournful when it feels like you ran away from your reality. Living in a dream is only temporary while we’re only stuck in a dream for hours. At some point, we need to wake up. This has been a week though, not as comparable as a dream. I will say that Astrid is not as melancholic as expected. Harmony and I were waiting for Astrid to say farewell to Marcus and we knew she liked him but to take 10 minutes? We sneaked to them, clasped Harmony’s mouth so she wouldn't even mutter a word. Astrid and Marcus stared into each other's eyes and their hands slid into each other as he kissed on her cheek. What a view for me to glimpse at. Harmony and I pretended like we just came and she came over easily. So long story short, they are doing long distance at least until Marcus visits which will probably be next month. We all had some sort of journey throughout this trip. Harmon just enjoying, Astrid being single to dating and me being a totally different writer from what I actually am. They might say in movies that a journey could last as long as they want but at some point, they need to go back to their regular lives. A journey has its end. Wish me luck for tomorrow!

Lots of Love, Rhyme

The Veiled Secrets

The Veiled Secrets

A missing girl with a doll left behind…

Varshini T



Prologue


“Change can be scary…” my daughter repeatedly quoted, but we never would have thought that change would overpower our lives. It would stick with us forever. Her voice. My sweet Willow’s voice is all we wanted to hear at this moment. This mournful moment. Generous streams came down our cheeks as we dwelled through the past week of anxiousness, regret, betrayal and loss. There wasn’t a point of us living, was there? We lived our lives for her. There were times I thought of suiciding but I needed to stay strong. For Frank. For me. For… Willow. It just came up to the last decision we’ve been jostling away with but we knew it needed to be made. But I need to think about what exactly happened….


Chapter 1

October 26, 2001


The October sunrise was drenched in hues of pink, orange and purple while the trees exhibited it’s autumn rage and fury as their colours made their final battle to the soil. My 11-year-old, Willow Halbeoji peered out the car window, pondering how the colours thrilled her. Her dad, Frank turned up the radio as I, Carol, hummed along with the tunes and melodies that filled the car. Frank and Willow’s personality went together well. Willow is free-spirited and Frank is care-free. As for me, I’m strict. While the car engine sang to the concerted high-way, I descended the window as the crisp fall wind twirled my jet black hair and blared in my ears. Willow stuck her delicate fingers out and I can tell she relished the roaring winds, with an afterword feel of numbness course through her fingers. When we got there, we took out the cardboard boxes scrawled with a black broad felt-tip marker. This was a start to a new chapter.


As Frank opened the door, you were able to tell it was a very old house, you could already tell by the design. This house and neighbourhood were built in the 1900s but Willow liked the vintage tinge to it. The house was welcoming from the open door to the wide hallway. The floor was an old-fashioned parquet with a superior blend of deep homely browns and the walls were the navy blue of the early winter sky, meeting a bold black baseboard. The banister was a twirl of a branch, enslaved by a carpenter’s hand, it’s grain flaccid in waves of cozy woodland hues. Willow scurried off through the hallway to see the ceramic dish organizers and minimalistic wooden shelves, perfect for Frank. He’s a busy director, what can I say? As we explored more, the creeks of the house would make me jump in agitation. It would sound like thunder pule out from the blackened sky.


Hours later of moving boxes, placing furniture and deciding which bedroom we were getting, it was almost lunchtime, we went outside to the humongous backyard filled with holly trees, native shrubs planted in circular beds. Ahead, laid upon an ominously quiet woods. My footfalls became silent as I was at the border of the woods. I heard a susurration of leaves in the blustering wind. I couldn't make up what the shape was at the end of the woods but it was some type of shed. Not a single shred of sunlight went on, it was dark as a shut garage. As we returned back to the house, Willow stood there and pointed at the woods.

“Dad, can I explore in the woods?” She queried.

“Of course you can!” He exclaimed.

We trotted into the house as I glanced at Willow going into the oak woodshed. I went to work on my computer of me doing an extra workday as a Debt Collection Agent while I felt the floors get dustier, the wood started creaking and the vintage cabinets had tiny scratches almost like a baby did it.


An unpleasant chill orbited around my body as my mind was telling me something bad happened. I look around suddenly as lightning jagged across the evening sky, ripping the vile azure like paper. I looked at the clock as the clock struck 6:30 pm. Willow? Where was she? Has she come back yet? Is she still in the anomalous woods? Did something bad happen? All the questions, assumptions and worries rushed into my head immediately like a waterfall gushing with force. Pushing me down like 50-pound weights. Frank perambulates down the stairs as his question worried me even more.


“Didn’t Willow come back?” Frank catechized.

I shake my head as his face droops with concern. My emerald eyes flitted to the paned window where Frank traipsed out. I got out and started hollering.

“Willow!?” Frank ejaculated.

“Willow!!!!” I screech.

“Come here now!!! This isn’t funny anymore!”

“Relax… she’s probably pulling a prank on us,” he exclaimed.

“Haha, funny prank!” I shriek, sarcastically.

“Willow, you got us! This is getting a bit old,”


They stood there in silence as the leaves scudded, breaking the silence. The quietness made me feel dizzy. My mind felt like the altitude of a snow-coated hill, pivoting my brain. We didn’t hear her laugh. Her cry. Her voice. We only heard the chiselled breeze. I tightened my fist as Frank and I switched eye contact with each other. Where was Willow?



Chapter 2

October 27, 2001


I ran as fast as I could to Willow as she got consumed by pitch darkness. It pushed me away, cascading me to the ground. I bellowed in horror. I couldn't control my body. I kneel down, banging the floor, whimpering as everything becomes hazy. I hustled hard to run up and grab Willow. I saw Willow standing there. She looked down and when I snatched her arm, she howled with grief. I felt myself getting consumed in the whirl of a black tornado and I couldn't get myself out.

“Carol?...Carol?”

I whined myself up as I sweated profusely. I breathed tremendously as if I ran a marathon. I looked around to see if we were in our old house. Maybe this was all a bad dream! Willow! She may be here as well. Frank handed me my glasses and everything cleared up. We were still here. It wasn’t a bad dream. Willow was still missing.

“No sign of Willow?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“Wait a minute, I saw her go into the shed that was in the woods. Maybe it was slammed shut?”

“There could be a chance,” he claimed.

I got ready quickly and sprinted down the stairs. I clutched the doorknob tightly, breathed out and opened the door. We head out as grass was soused with a golden brown carpet of leaves, soft underfoot. The whisper of early winter gusts through my ear. The earthy smell of autumn wheezed through my senses as I drew a breath, walking over the border. The beech trees at the height of the mother nature’s dreams as it bathed in golden in the shine of the sun. We tread our way to the shed. But it wasn’t a shed.


“That isn’t a shed, Carol,” Frank affirmed.

“It’s a decrepit lodge made for one.”

The decrepit lodge stood there, abandoned on the unweeded grass; as the wretched worn timber walls slowly collected mold and dust from the numbing morning dew. Frank abruptly gazed around, frightening me on the other hand.

“Did you hear that?..” Frank murmured.

“No,” I say as I suddenly hear something.

A scream. A strangled cry that didn’t belong here. It was one of mortal terror. I quickly wrenched open the lodge, constantly hearing the scream. The ancient floorboard creaked, abruptly as the latches on the door warped. It spooked both of us as we looked around; inhaling dust.


Willow wasn’t in here! All there was were just some plunged tires, decayed metal beams and rust-covered tools. But, I saw something. A curtain. A curtain that has seen better days but it was covering something.

“Frank, what’s the curtain covering?” I ask.

He shrugs as he walks over and seizes the curtain.

My mind whispers “This was a terrible idea… no way back… disaster… ruin.”

The world seemed so much closer to my eye and the air became soapier, harder to breathe. My thoughts scatter like there's an electrical storm in my head. My mind now YELLS at me; “You failed to be a mom… it’s over… give up… run away…”

Frank unleashes the curtain and what was hidden behind it, horrified me.


It was a doll. A scratched porcelain doll. My heart thumped, it looked so much like a baby in the frosted leaf litter. I looked at Frank as he gave a reassuring hope. I touched its face with my fingertips, the surface was impenetrable. It was more like my teapot than skin. The ceramic skin was cracked like glass and the cherry red lips were smudged like an eyeliner smudge.


“A doll?” Frank queried, snatching the doll.

“I didn’t come here for a doll! I came here for Willow!” I yawp.

“Maybe this is a clue,”

“This isn’t a game, do you think this is murder mystery?” I yelp.

“No, but we should keep it just in case,” He says, brushing its hair with his fingertips.

I rolled my eyes but nodded because he may be right. Maybe someone kidnapped her? We can call the police and they can do it all. No kidding, a kidnapper will leave a doll here so we can find the place and then they will kill us. Maybe a ghost? Urban Legend? I should be scared to death right now. Not thinking about the causes. What should I do? I don’t want to call the police but I’m scared to find out myself.

“Let’s go.”


Those words made me relieved. We walk away, not looking back. Even Though she wasn’t here. I felt her voice in my head. “Mom, help me…”

Maybe it wasn’t only in my mind. Maybe it was in Frank’s mind as well.



Chapter 3

October 28, 2001


I sat there, sipping my coffee, staring at the doll. I didn’t know what to think of it. It was just there, with its celestial glass eyes, making deep eye contact with me. What did this have to do with Willow? Last time Willow played with a doll was 6 years ago. Her dolls never looked like that. I feel her spirit here, maundering in the air. Why would there be a doll anyways? It wasn’t new at all. It was an old doll. I felt a shiver go through my spine as I thought her mind going haywire, breathing too calmly and her skin going pale. She clenched her fists hard.


She taught about what she heard five minutes after Willow entered the lodge. It came out of our neighbour's house. I heard screaming. I heard shovelling. I heard weird mouth noises. I heard a slight call for help. I just thought it was some kind of TV show. Maybe it is. But the weird noise? The shovelling? This is probably what happened. They were watching a TV show that was related to romantic horror and then they went planting. Frank and I decided to go visit the neighbours because they might know more about this than us. I baked some brownies to give to them so they don’t think we are crazy.


Frank stumbled downstairs, half-awake. He was fully dressed and ready to go! I kept calling him but it looked like he was asleep.

“FRANK!!!” I holler.

“Huh, oh sorry, let’s go,”

He rambles over and kisses me on the head. We prowl up to the door as the thought of the noises shock my brainwave. We head out, my heart pummeling like a sledgehammer. We ring the doorbell to see a couple open the door.

“Oh hi… are you the new neighbours?” the woman asks sweetly.

“Yes, we are. We made you some brownies.” I imparted, handing it to them.

“Oh we should have done that for you!” the man replied.

“Want to come in?”

“Okay,” Frank implied.


The house was long and narrow, perhaps only twelve feet wide at the front. But it stretched some thirty feet back like a giant shoebox. They had a one-story extension at the rear of the kitchen. The wood floorboards were dewy and strewn. The blue paint was smooth with an unbroken layer and the window frames were a crisp white top of new wood. We sat on the satin-covered couch as the woman stirred tea for us. I soon found out that the man was named Allan and the woman was named Tiffany. Then Frank went to the point.

“Do you know about the decrypted lodge at the back of our house,”

Allan’s face suddenly becomes stern. Tiffany started to cough. My mind was surging with perplexity.

“Why? Is there something wrong?” I dispute.

Tiffany came over and brought us tea. I analyzed the dainty china cups as we slowly slurp on our tea.


“That lodge has been there for a century now. No one dares to go in there as they say it’s haunted-”

I cut him off.

“We went in there,”

They mutter under their breaths as I’m unsure of what they said. An awkward silence fumes through the air.

“Why would you?”

We tell them the whole story, beginning to end, with minimal breaths.

“A doll?”

“Yes a doll, an old one. When we brought back to our house we heard the voices of a girl.”

“There might be a connection to your daughter and the doll,” Tiffany avows.

I almost choked on the tea and they couldn't believe me.

“Did you look at the back?” Allan inquires.

Frank and I exchanged glances. We didn’t. We shake our heads.


The next 25 minutes went by in a blur of chattering about us and what we could do. They did the same.

“You know we can help you, right?”

I utter to Frank, “they do know this neighbourhood and the woods more than we do.”

Frank nodded and conquered their request.

“Tomorrow we will look at what's behind there,” Tiffany claimed.

“Ok, see you there at three?” Frank queries.

“Four is better for us,”

We get up and say our sincere goodbyes to them. They are probably the nicest neighbours I’ve had in my lifetime, but I couldn't tell if they smiled or sneered.

Chapter 4

October 29, 2001


I tried to scoff down all this information and that questionable sneer. Maybe I’m just imagining things and that was just a friendly smile, But the doll is related to Willow? Pfft! The doorbell rang and the anticipation of seeing what was behind hit me hard. I opened the door to see Tiffany and Allan at the doorstep, ready to go into the woods. Frank and I walked out and we all headed into the woods. The tune of the brumal chill of the woods gusts through my ears. My heart rate surpassed the rhythmic beat coming from inside. I felt my heart completely stopped as I heard the same weird sound that came from their house. I glimpse back, as they awkwardly smile. They were suspicious, somehow.


As we got closer, it felt like my stomach dropped. I felt Frank panting heavily, which made me soon find out that he was nervous. It wasn’t for the lodge. It was for Willow. A care-free man getting nervous? Especially him?! That’s a big thing. We trod up to the lodge as Allan stroked the amber wood logs with his hand.

“Feel’s older than thought, surprised it held itself up for this long.”

“What does that-” Allan cut me off.

“Which MEANS whatever behind this is pretty old, probably decaying as we speak,” Allan recites.

“What would be behind there?” I ask.

“It might be the cause of why your daughter is not here,” Tiffany says her hypothesis.


“Your daughter is not here” rings in my head like a fire alarm. It haunted me like Bloody Mary was stuck in my mind. I didn’t like it. The feeling; that feeling makes you feel like you are buried 6 feet down, alive.

“I have a feeling that this might not be what we think it is. I don’t think this is a lodge for one,” Frank conveys.

We glance at him with curiosity.

“What do you think it is?” Tiffany asks.

“This might be a workshop,”

“Ok enough chatter, let’s look at what's behind there,” I exclaim.

It felt like the matrix. My mind processed everything slowly, as my eyes fazed in a blur. I stopped, exhaling deeply. I start walking again. My eyes couldn't believe what was behind. It was a decayed car. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. It looked like… it’s been through an accident.


“A car?” Frank questions.

“Our daughter is 12 years old! How is this the cause of her missing?” I interrogate.

“I hope it’s not a car accident,”

“Car accident… car accident… car accident…”

I anatomized the car even more. It was under unstable stead. Splintered wood beams rise high up to the decayed metal panels. About to fall off and crumble into rust. The car wasn’t it’s the original colour. Its paint was scraped off, revealing the dark amber colour that felt like grains of sand under my nails. The signal lights were shattered like glass, giving me bad vibes. The tires were coming off and were completely copper brown from the dirt and rust cover. Dust was hanging from the lip of the window with barely-clinging door handles.

“I think you might be right and I think I know how this car had it’s a terrible fate,” I allege.


“You do?”

“Yes, as you can see that the tire of the car is coming off which means they needed a tire replacement. Frank and I saw some tires inside the “workshop.” Broken glass means bad luck. The signal lights are broken which might have resulted in this, sadly.”

“That would make sense,” Allan glared hardly through the window.

“There might be something inside,”

I discern through the window as far my spectacles can take me, but nothing. Just must.

“I say we look inside!” Frank declares.

After debating if we should or not, we finally decide to open the door.


The curiosity hit me hard on what was inside. As we yanked open the door, dust wafts up in the air, getting on our faces. It didn’t smell like dust though. It smelled smoky, like burnt wood. We wheezed out until I was able to open my eyes. It was dreadful. The suede seats were burnt like the end of burn paper. Logs were blazing in the front seat beside… decaying skeletons. They were from real people. We screamed in horror.


Chapter 5

October 30, 2001


Those poor people. Burnt alive. I felt a shiver that activated goosebumps. They sprouted from the depth of my skin. What I hope won’t happen to the skulls. Allan and Tiffany are people I shouldn't get suspicious about. They’ve helped us all day and today until 7 pm. I should have not thought they were suspicious. But I’m still worried about Willow. It’s been four full days without her and I’m hyperventilating now. I heard a knock on the door and as I got up, I heard a clunk on the window. I swished the blinds opened. There was nothing. No soul, no animal, no human. I sped to the door and unlatched it. I suddenly hear subtle footsteps and a girl crying. Frank wasn’t here because he went to go check around the neighbourhood. The footsteps got louder and the floor got dustier. It happened again, like last time. It happened when something bad occurred.


The cry was familiar. It was a cry of pain. It was everywhere I scrambled off to. I didn’t understand. Was this the end? At the end of my 35 years? “Runaway… just… run away… goodbye…” sped through my mind as a clash of windows abruptly struck, the footsteps got louder, my heart raced, the cry got louder and… I blacked out.

Chapter 6

October 31, 2001

I open my eyes to a fulgurating light, beaming into my eyes. I tried to move my arms but they were tied. With rope. I saw Frank beside me, weeping as a figure came from the caliginous shadows. Two figures. It was Allan and Tiffany!

“What’s happening?” I try tugging myself out.

They sneer, evilly.

“You...traitors! How can you do this to us?” Frank snarls.

“Why do you have us here?”

“Oh ho ho, there's a lot you don’t know!” Allan hissed.

“There’s been a lot behind your back that you don’t know but we are willing to tell you if you give us the information to your productions,”

I looked at Frank, nervously as I tried swallowing a lump in my throat. He never tells a single soul. Not even me. He only told this to…Willow.


“I will never tell scabs like you!”

“If you say so…” Tiffany whispered.

She clenched her fists as her skin got paler than the moon and her limbs were as stiff and cold as a corpse. Her fingers became long and sharp as she ran her finger down her neck, blood spillage catching under her nails. Her voice became high-pitched while her iris and sclera became pitch black like she didn’t even have eyes. Her two front teeth that were apart from each other grew keen as blood was pouring from her eye holes.

“Are you a-” I ask, not believing what I just saw.

“A vampire?” Tiffany fills in.

“Yes,”

“I can kill you for not telling me your secrets,” Tiffany says, coming closer with her hands in a creepy gesture.

“Doesn’t Willow know?” Allan smiles, wickedly


His jaw drops in concern. I shed vague tears with my lip quivering. Did they have Willow?

“YOU HAVE HER!!!!”

“GIVE HER BACK!!!” Frank quipped.

“Are you telling us to do something?” Allan asks, turning into his vampire self.

“That’s not how it works here.”

“We tell you what to do and if you don’t answer, you face the consequences.” Allan snapped.


“I love the taste of fresh blood, don’t you Allan?” She scratches my neck.

“Yes, I do,”

“Where should we go?”

“Carol’s neck,”

Colour drained out of my face as white as a ghost as I incapacitated with fear. I never would have thought in a million years that my death would occur from a vampire. She came closer, clenching her teeth, getting ready for the bite.

“Fine, I will tell you!” Frank blabbered out.

I knew he didn’t want to but he did it for me. I shook my head because I rather die than him giving the information for bad. If I died and he gave the information, they would still kill him off anyways! Frank started buffering in nervousness and I can tell he took the long story. That was quite smart of him to do that. Will they believe it?


“I think you're bluffing,” Tiffany groaned, madly.

She came closer to me. I started counting my last seconds of living on this beautiful earth. This will be my last sob.

“FINE!!! I will… tell you.”

“No don’t! This is the biggest secret you’ve held in your 20 years of directing, you can’t do this now!”

“I won’t let them kill you. You are more important than my job.”


An awkward silence floods the room, hearing the clock ticking. Either the last few seconds I will ever hear or the last few seconds till freedom. Allan breaks the silence, “do you want to know where your daughter is?”

We both nod as he reaches for the doll and raises it up.

“Here,”

Chapter 7

October 31, 2001: The Truth

Tiffany told us the story from 1900.

“This doll has been in the workshop for as long as the first family has lived in the house you live in. It belonged to a girl named Yuta and she was 6 years old. Her parents bought her many dolls but this is the doll she would always play with. Her parents soon had a divorce so she ended up living with her dad. She despised her dad. She always went into the woods but one day, she was missing for a week. She came back and her dad was so relieved but there was something wrong with her. Something demonic. She would sing random songs about death, blood and knives. She talked to strangers who were in a secret society. One day, she wanted ice-cream so they took the car. They were driving down the humble roads when she soon said “goodbye dad…” and a car crashed into their car, killing her. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She wanted to kill her dad but ended up killing herself. Her dad didn’t know that so he drove to his workshop to help. When they got there, he carried his bloody daughter but the door was shut to the workshop and as he turned around, a person from that secret society bit him. Sucking all the blood out. He died, miserably. They burned him in the car as you saw. They took the girl and put her blood and put it in the doll but they buried her. Those people who were in the secret society were VAMPIRES! They took revenge on anyone and won’t give up until they are gone. Another family moved in 40 years later. They let their 14-year-old daughter, Terra explore and she went into the workshop and touched the doll. She suddenly got zapped into the doll meaning she was the doll. She was there for 50 years until you came.”

“What happened to that family?” I ask.

“They moved away. Every time a little girl who touches the doll becomes that doll. When Willow touched the doll, Terra came here and we killed her, sucking the blood out and burying her in a coffin. Your daughter is the doll now.”


Those sounds, that cry, everything I experienced made sense now. Willow, my baby is the doll now. Frank was able to get himself out of the rope but he didn’t mention it until he kicked Allan in the face when he got closer. I couldn't remember what exactly happened. Everything happens in a blur but we got the doll. Or our daughter. She was in this. There was nothing we could do to get her out. If they did do anything, the result will be her getting herself killed.





THE END

My Life in a Nutshell (Feb 2007-Sept 2019)

My Life in a Nutshell- Varshini.T




It all began on a choppy winter evening in Vancouver, British Columbia. It was Groundhog’s Day where my parents had their first daughter in Vancouver General Hospital. My stubby 3-year-old brother, Athavann was excited to have a companion in his life now.




I grew up in Vancouver for three years, going to playgrounds and tourist attractions. We lived in a luxurious penthouse with a jacuzzi but ended up moving to a cabin-like house. It was still big and we lived there for a year before we moved to an apartment. We had one of those old school TV’s that you had to press the button to turn it on.




Once I was three, we made a big move to Ontario. My dad ended up staying in Vancouver for his job. So it was just me, my mom and my brother. For the first few months, we lived in our aunt’s house that was filled with anomalous faces. Later on, We moved into a townhouse that was in between the main road and an alley filled with other townhouses. A month later, our dad moved in with us. Finally, we didn’t need to skype anymore!




My early childhood started off with me not actually going to preschool. My mom taught me my letters, numbers and how to colour which ended up being like scribbling. My first day of kindergarten made me feel like I didn’t fit in. It’s like when you can’t fit into a puzzle, but everyone else can. I still know people that went to that school today; Abizana, Jasleen, David, Sanusha, and Amrita. During the time, I was going to my aunt for tutoring where I did what every kindergartener does. Words, numbers, colour, read, repeat. I made many friends there but one I won't forget is Vaishna. We were friends until she stopped coming. After I graduated kindergarten, I got transferred to *unnamed* for first grade. I had *unnamed* and she is still one of my favourite teachers. There I met Anusikka, Priya, Neha, and many unique people.




Fast forward after the grand opening of *unnamed*, trips to cities, field trips to theatres, getting high dictation marks in my mother tongue, and meeting Prathissha, Shruthi, and Luxmi, it was Grade 3. My first EQAO. Literally speaking, “Evil Questions Attacking Ontario,” Kai said it right. I met Vaishna after 4 years of not seeing her and she is unquestionably my best friend and intermittently a sister to me. Grade 4 was well...not really my year. I dealt with toxic friendships but the musical (Hansel and Gretal) made it so much better. I met Ganga, who is one of my best friends who you will see has an addiction to cheese. I entered many music tests and got silver and gold medals. I also did my first dance program, that was entertaining.




In Grade 5, I joined many clubs like the choir, book club, eco-club, robotics try-outs and so much more. So much more to the point, my calendar might have exploded. I started a long-distance friendship with my best friend, Safa, who moved away from where I live. I had one of my favourite teachers which is *unnamed*. She is one of those cool cats (get it?) Nevermind, she’s a cat person, y’ know? My jokes are lame but Grade 6 wasn’t.




Before Grade 6, I went to an art class in the summer with my brother, I bonded with people who had an artistic mindset and who adores art as much as I do. I got a creative spirit award in my class and I felt ingenious. Grade 6 was one of the best school years I have ever experienced. My class was astonishing and the camp was super fun. I loved the people in the cabin and the free time we get to make silly videos. What were we thinking? Life goes on to Grade 7, I have an OG teacher, *unnamed*, I have an amazing class with people I haven’t had in years. Next year, I will be walking down the hallways to graduate!!! Time flies by like a falcon soaring in the sky. I like living in the moment even if time goes by in a blur.

Uninvited Guests (Gr.6 Story)

Uninvited Guests

A Dark Hooded Specimen Came to Abduct a Boy

Who is he?

Inspired by Harris Burdick

Varshini Thulasiranjan


It was a balmy day in Portobello, Scotland and the flare of sunlight came through the windows. The house felt like a heated oven. The house by itself was standing on a broad and sandy cliff. Patches of verdant grass were surrounding the cliff. Below the cliff was portobello beach and the waves plunged over the frigid grains of sand. When the waves backed off, a layer of foamy lace spread at the edge of the shore. Not a lot of people lived near the beach other than 2 tall houses.


12-year-old, Collin Blair was sleeping on a luminous morning, till a beam of sunlight came crashing through the glass pane. It directly hit his eyes. His deep-set eyes were twitching until he woke up. He grinded his knuckles into his eyes and got up quickly to get out of the sun. his day kicked right off to an awful mood. The silence spread across the house as not even a creek was heard.


“That was a “great” way to start my day,” Collin said to himself, breaking the silence as he swiped the sheets away. He ambled right into the washroom and turned on the fan. He felt the breeze from the fan grazing him. He took a brisk shower and by the time he was done, he felt very numb and blunt. He went to his closet and picked a black t-shirt with white stripes and denim jeans. He combed his bleach hair till he liked how it looked. He took his white socks and skedaddled downstairs, making creaks for each wooden step.


“What’s taking you so long?” Gwen, Collin's mother, blared.


“It should take you 20 mins not.- Collin came into the kitchen and zig-zagged his arms and pressed it against his chest.


“I’m here now!” Collin grinned.


“You could have come earlier!” Gwen spieled, secretly regretting what she said. “You take longer…” Collin uttered.


Collin took out the chair and settled in the chair. He wrenched the chair with him, feeling the bohemian silk as he pulled in. Gwen was preparing his breakfast and his dad, Tim came bursting through the rustic green door. Tim noticed Collin coiling his fingers and came rushing to his fingers. “Col, what are you doing?” Tim came, grabbing his fingers.


“The doctor said not to do that with your fingers!” Tim warned.


“Fine,” Collin replied.


“Wished Gavin didn’t drop his desk on my finger when I was cleaning the classroom.” Collin thought.


“Bum Him.”



Gwen plops a wax bowl filled with Scottish porridge. The porridge was the colour of the sand outside. It was dainty and thick when you scoop it up with your spoon and when it plumps right into the rest. The warm oats that are garnished on top were greasy and full of fibres.
“Again?” He thought.
He rolled his eyes and he troweled to get some porridge onto the spoon and he put it right into his mouth.


“Bland,” he thought as Gwen brought up something.


“Dad and I are going to Aunt Makenzie’s house. Do you want to come?”


“I rather not since I have some homework AND you guys would talk about me and compare me to others!” Collin replied, trowing another scoop of his breakfast.


“We don’t always do that, do we?” Gwen replied, looking at Collin then to Tim.


“We actually do.” Tim lip-talks.


“Don’t say that in front of him, Honey.” Gwen lip-talks back.


“I can see you know!” Collin says with a mouthful of porridge.


“Anyways, we will go without you but be safe! There is a lot of kidnapping and shooting happening here! You don’t want to know what would happen to me if you were kidnapped.” Gwen rendered.


“I’ll be safe, mom,” Collin says with a small smile.



They get off the chairs and strode to the main foyer. Collin felt the glacial cold floor under his feet. Around them were plain white walls like a polar bear in a snowy thunderstorm. Gwen and Tim put their shoes on and glanced at the paintings, hung throughout the stairway. Paintings of forests, saints, colourful prairies and Scottish kids sitting on the mossy grass.

“Bye,” Gwen and Tim say, as Gwen smooches his lips on Collin’s head. Seconds later, they were out.



Collin sprinted to the pantry, skimmed the shelves, grabbed the Chex mix, sprinted to the other end and jumped right onto the chalky white couch. He swoops all the flannel pillows and knitted pillows close to him and snatched the remote from the coffee bean leather table. He goes to Netflix and presses Brave. While the grey line swooped in loops, Collin tattered the Chex mix bag and opened it. He took a handful and ate until the movie started. An hour later, He was in his room, doing his language homework.


“What's a good suspense story?” He thought as he clicked the top of his pen as if it was a fidget toy.


“Maybe a kidnap story,” Collin muttered. “Homework should be in a grave,” he muttered under his breath. He gets off his slashed black leather office chair that had brown felt in the middle. He walks up to his window and peers outside. The ocean sounded so peaceful as it pulled back to make foamy bubbles on its way out. The seagulls zoomed through the white fluffy cotton that accompanied the sun. The beams of the sun shined on the top of their neighbour’s house. Other than that, it was dead silent. Every thirty minutes all you would hear is the smoke that comes out of a muffler. Collin returns back to his homework.


40 minutes later, at 2:13 pm, Collin heard a car parking up on the sandy driveway.


“Is mom and dad already here?” Collin thought.


“They stay there for hours, let alone coming back,” Collin said.


He gazed outside only to look at a black tinted car parked up on the driveway. Collin was thinking.


“The car we own is a red Maruti Suzuki Swift.”


A man came out of the car and he was wearing a black hoodie that said “A Dangerous Man” in dark grey letters. He wore charcoal black jeans with black sneakers. He wore a white and black mask and black knitted gloves.


“Who is he?” Collin whispered.


The stranger glanced at the open window as the silky white curtains bob in the air. The man trooped slowly around the window to investigate the open window. Collin saw he was coming closer to the window, so he ducked down as soon as possible. He couldn't breathe, it felt like someone was choking him. His heart was racing and it felt like 1 beat happened every minute. He wished his mom and dad would come right now! But they couldn't come here in a millisecond. A choked cry for help brunt itself up his throat. He felt a tear of sweat running down his cheek. He thought it was the end of the road for him. He took 3 big breaths and peeked out the window. He saw the man looking out the window and ducked down quickly. He heard him scampering off as his footsteps became softer and softer.


Collin wanted to believe that he went away with his car. But then he heard two blustering knocks on the door. It was as loud as rock concert speakers. His heart felt like it was stuck in his throat. The stranger kept knocking and knocking until he gave up. But his knocking now turned into punching. Collin thought that the house was caving in. He thought to himself


“Ok, so if the house is shaking, then he must be very strong.” The man keeps punching like it was like a personal punching bag.


“Dude, this house is not a WWE wrestler,” Collin muttered.



A few minutes later, Collin thought of a wild idea.


“Maybe I should spy on him at the top of the stairway. It's not your typical railing at the top, it’s a wall at the end. So he won’t see me.” While the Wanderer was still thrusting the door with his buff fists, Collin tiptoed to the wall and sat there. But the punching stopped. It was dead silent. It felt like the noise was going to scare him like a sudden allergic reaction. Collin was thinking


“Maybe he just stopped because he thinks I’m not here.”


He crawls to the window in front of him and peeks out. He sees the wanderer right outside and they both made eye contact. They stared at each other, The stranger looking into Collin 's sapphire blue eyes and Collin looking into his pitch-black eye holes. Then the man waved, creepily. Collin made a sudden move down. He started punching that door.


"Maybe I should spy on him from that room. It has the same stairway as this one.” Collin thought.


With no regrets, he tiptoed down the dark wood stairs, without making the slightest creak. Then he rolled to the next door that led to that stairway. The move made him feel like he was in mission impossible. He crouched his way to the stairway And hid at the corner of the wall. A few minutes later, he started punching the lock. Collin knew that the lock was not strong. It was so rusty if you rub it, it turns into crumbs of rust. Everything in the room shook. The ice skate that was hanging up, the extra carpet, the big box full of Christmas supplies, his grandpa’s old camel jacket that was hung up on a spruce wood jacket hanger, the paint and the gasoline that stood on the thin birch shelf was all shaking. But all of sudden he heard a clink. Collin knew the lock was open. His heart was pounding. He was sure he had seen the doorknob turn.


Snuffling closer to the wall, egging to get up and run, tugging his shirt slightly, he hugged his knees as if it was a fluffy furry teddy bear like it was giving him faith.


“I should have gone with dad and mom to aunt Mackenzie’s house.” Collin whimpered.


He sealed his eyes shut and hoped it was a bad dream. He prayed to Jesus that he would be fine. The stranger came in, his steps getting louder and louder. He looks around and says


“Come out kid, you can’t hide forever.” He said in his deep treble voice.


“He sounds like Darth Vader” He giggled. He cupped his mouth and wished he didn’t hear.


“Are you wishing that I didn’t hear that? Oh ho ho ho, I heard that boy.” He chuckled.


“You know what? come to me! I have many video games and sports equipment at home. We can play them together. I promise I won’t do anything to you.” He said, crossing his fingers.


“No,” Collin remarked.


“I’m not that dumb, creep.” He spieled.


“Oh really? What boy knows an intruder is coming this way, spy on them?” He rehearsed in a mean way. “That’s not that dumb at all.” The stranger said, sarcastically.


“GO AWAY!!!!” Collin yelled.


“Fine, I will go Away unless you answer this question.” He implied.


“What is it?” Collin asked.


“Do you want to have the same job as your dad and do want to take his place?” He asked.


“Yes, I do,” Collin replied.


“I’m quite inspired by him actually.”


“Now can you leave!” Collin yelled at him.


“I’m leaving.” The intruder said. Then He left.



Collin couldn't believe that he let him go! He spurted upstairs to see if he left. The wanderer jumped into his car and drove off. Collin thought it was a good time to run to his neighbour’s house to stay there until his parents returned home. He thought running out of the side door would be a faster way. He ran to the side door and twisted the knob and pushed till it opened. When it opened, he used so much force that he fell onto the grass. He got himself up and saw the man right in front of him.


“Boo,” he said.


Collin tried dashing his way out but the man snatched his arm and pulled him closer to him.


You thought I would let you get out that easily?” He said huskily.


Collin tried to whirling his arm so fast that it could have made tornados. He used his other hand to pinch his arm. As much as he grudged his nail into his tan skin, As much as red showed in his skin, he still had a good grip. He gave up and started shouting loud so the neighbour could hear him.


“HELP!!!! HELP!!!! KENNETH, JAMIE, LESLIE, DOUGLAS? HELP!!!!!!!” Collin wailed.


The Kenneths lived near them but their house was standing on an upper cliff.




Up in Kenneth's house, Jamie (the mom), Douglas (the son), and Leslie (the daughter) were at their house. Jamie was cooking, Leslie was knitting a Purple chunky blanket and Douglas was reading a book, TheTrainspotting that his teacher gave him. Leslie picks up a string of yarn and makes a slipknot. She cast the knot onto the needle and started knitting.


“I need a break,” Leslie affirmed.


Leslie elevated her arms wide and walked to the window. She felt the toasty glass on her pale cheeks, feeling like a thermos. She looks at Collin’s yard and sees a man holding on to him. At first, she thought it was his dad but she was wondering why he was wearing a big baggy hoodie on this torrid day. Then she looked closer only to see a mask covering the man´s face. Leslie gasped. She put her ear on the boiling hot glass and heard screaming: “HELP!!!!!!!” Leslie hustled to Douglas.


“Douglas, a kidnapper came to Collin ’s house and had him in his hands! He’s also screaming for help!” Leslie exclaimed.


“Stop imagining things, Leslie,” Douglas said, still gazing at each word of his book. Leslie snatched his book away from reach.


“Can you give that back?!” Douglas responded with anger.


“Unless you look,” Leslie suggested, smirking. Douglas rolled his eyes and got up, peering out the window.


“Leslie, There is no- Oh my god!” Douglas said in astonishment.


“What did I tell you?” Leslie replied, her arms overpassing each other. Douglas runs for the timber door.


“Come on Leslie, we have to help him!” Douglas replied.


“Wait, we are?” Leslie said shyly. Douglas was already out the door before she could finish. She straightened her dark caramel let-out hair and adjusted her black tank top that had hot pink graffiti words all over. She ran out with no hesitation.




Collin noticed that Leslie and Douglas were coming but he didn’t say anything. When he noticed Leslie, his cheeks started to turn light red. He had a crush on her ever since their parents met for the first time. The same with Leslie. They whizzed through the sandy path, feeling the grains of sand, grazing their feet. When they got nearer to the house, they ducked and started walking slowly. They climbed over the fence, being stealthy. Douglas felt like he was stealing something from a high-security museum. Then they made a running start and jumped on to the man. Leslie started jabbing his head with her fists and Douglas was jolting his legs at the stranger. The man shook off Leslie and Douglas, making them plunge to the ground. By then, Leslie had dirt and grass on her black jeans and Douglas had it on his white with green outlines t-shirt.



They got up and Douglas did a running kick to the kidnapper, letting go of Collin. The stranger plunged to the ground, headfirst. Collin toppled over and started running his way to Douglas and Leslie until the stranger put his arm in front of him, making him trip and collapsing onto the stiff dirt. The Kidnapper snagged him backwards and took hold of him as he walked to the front yard. Leslie and Douglas sprinted to the stranger but Douglas tripped over a rock that was plain grey with swirls of rusty red, with a touch of sparkles, shimmering in the sun. Leslie looked back and was coming back for Douglas until he denied her help.



“Go help Collin! I can get myself up, Just get save him!” Douglas said with pain. She looked at Douglas with tears bursting in her eyes like water in a dam. She scurried up to the stranger, grabbing his buff arms and pulling him to let go of Collin. He shook her off with Leslie hitting her head on the white garage door. She touched her head and felt a thick substance behind her head. She looked at her hand and saw scarlet blood was clamped between her calloused fingers. “Leslie!!!!!” Collin yelled in concern. The intruder was walking like he was in matrix time to Leslie but it was her mind playing tricks.



He took the keys out of his pocket, pressing the button that allows the car to open. Beeps are heard, as he opens the trunk of his black tinted car, throws Collin in there and takes the rope and duct tape in his hands and starts tying Collin up. “To Collin, it was a blur in the middle with a blurry black edge around his vision. He wished his parents arrived at this moment. Before the kidnapper could lodge the tape on his mouth, Tim grabs his shoulder and yanks him back. The stranger tries to run off but Tim got a grip of him and held him at the top of his hoodie.



Meanwhile, Gwen unties Collin with her long acrylic nails chipping off. He climbs out and hugs his mom quickly. “Come to help Leslie! She’s bleeding at the back of her head.” Collin said swiftly. Gwen gazed at Leslie and ran to her. She helped her up as Leslie held her head. Collin comes and puts his hands on her shoulders. They walk to Tim only to see the kidnapper in Tim’s freckled hands. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Tim questioned angrily. The stranger didn’t say anything behind his white mask that looked like a pearl in the sun. “Whatever you're here for, never come back, bastard. Do you want to fall off this cliff, it’s 45 ft down! Do you want a happy ending or dead drop.” He said, smirking. “No don’t!” Gwen claimed, gripping tighter to Leslie and Collin. Tim glanced at Gwen, letting a little loose off the stranger. The stranger kicks Tim at his stomach, spurting away down the cliff.



“Why did I let loose on him?!” Tim said, slapping his face. “Who cares about him? All that is important is the kids.” Gwen said, looking at Collin and Leslie. “Wait, Douglas is at the side door! We both came.” Leslie said. They walked to the side door and saw Douglas sitting on the grass, his back against the wall, cupping his knee. “Oh, you’re safe!” Douglas said with relief. “Thanks, guys! I owe you one!” Collin said, thankfully. “It's all thanks to Leslie! She is the one who told me and she is the one who saved you.” Douglas said, pointing at Leslie. Collin looked at Leslie as Leslie looked down. “Thanks,” Collin said. Leslie turned red as well as Collin. Tim and Gwen look at each other in astonishment. “Come inside, we will take care of you guys and we will explain to your parents,” Gwen replied. They all went inside but Collin, Leslie, and Douglas were all thinking the same thing “Who was the man, who was he working for and why did he come to kidnap Collin?”