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