Narrative Writing

The Green Slide

by Aaron E.

I’ve always found the playground to be one of the calmest and funnest places in my young, 12 year life. The first place I always go is the swings, because I love the sensation that I’m flying. As I swing, I see a shadowy figure appear from… well I don’t know where, and walk over to me.

“Hello young man! I see you’re enjoying the swings, but you know what's really fun? That green slide over there.” 

I look over and see a green slide that spirals down. I couldn’t quite see the end from here, but I could tell it wasn't for me.

“Sorry sir, but I don’t like the feeling of being swung in circles. Thanks for informing me about the slide though. Maybe my little brother will enjoy it.”

The man’s face wrinkled, as he looked at me with displeasure. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a nice guy, but his eyes seemed chaotic and angry.

“Child, please go on the slide. You won’t regret it.”

I didn’t feel tempted to argue so I just looked away from him when I saw other man,

“Go on the damn slide kid,” he said, in a slightly more angry tone.

I didn’t know where he came from and I started to panic. As I looked around more people showed up, all pressuring me to go on the slide. They no longer looked kind, but they all had the same demonic look flashing through their eyes, just like the first guy I met.

“What is so special about this stupid slide?” I exclaim.

They all exchange glances like I brought up an inside joke that they find hysterical. 

I look back at the first guy I encountered. His skin is tinted red. He is probably angry that I’m not going on the slide, I think to myself. I look back at the slide, checking if it is worth giving in to the peer pressure and just going on it. But it’s no longer green. It is some orange/yellow color. I look back at the now crowd of over 70 people and see that they all look dark red. I also noticed that the sunlight was gone, but the temperature went up.

“What the heck is happening!” I gasp, in between breaths.

I’m starting to hyperventilate as my head starts to spin. The slide is the same dark red color as the mob of people that continue to appear by the second. Faint shrieks and hisses are coming out of the mouth of the slide. The sky looks like a murder just took place, as it is blood red. My eyelids begin to get heavy as my body finally collapses off the swing. The last thing I see before I black out is the shadowy image of wings sprouting out of many of the creatures’ backs around me. Then I’m out like a light.

As my senses start to come back to me, I realize I’m inside of the formerly green slide, spinning at speeds faster than cheetahs. As the end of the slide approaches, I take in what I see.

I’m in the depths of he*l, surrounded by fire and screams. I look up to find the first demon I encountered cackling and bragging about the demented prank that he pulled on me to other evil demons.

Wake-up Call

by Aarav J.

650 pieces. Yes. That’s how much candy I got last year. 

I'm Tom, a candy craver who uses techniques to acquire the most candy I can.  But this is what happened this Halloween…

I got my pillowcase and called my friend Jake. We were going trick or treating in my neighborhood. We were about to leave when my mom yelled something to me.

“Don’t come back with too many!” she said. She doesn’t like when I get too much. Last Halloween  when she saw my excessive load of jolly ranchers, she made me donate half of it to the candy drive in my school. But I don’t care. I asked Jake if he could keep some candy with him, then give it to me at school so I could put it in my locker.  

“Don’t worry, Mom, you won’t see that many, '' I falsely replied.

“Have fun then! And one more thing, can you turn the stove off before you go? I’m about to be in a meeting, can’t come out now.”

I was too lazy, too excited for that candy. We were off. We went to a couple of houses, but there weren’t many good candies. But one house in general caught my attention. 

A big, giant, spider balloon around a huge table…I took a peek at the candy and saw my favorite, Sour Patch Kids. They had tons. And tons. I immediately rushed to the table. Then, when the person wasn’t looking, I reached my hand out and grabbed a handful of Sour Patches. And there were a bunch of other candy that came into my hand. We went on, trick or treating. Along the way we met some of our friends from school.

“Let’s keep going,” I say to Jake, still chatting with Noah.

“No, I’m gonna go home,” he replied.

“Why now? Aren't we getting more?” I asked.

“I don’t want more. Not a big candy fan. Also, my mom said to be home early, there’s something really important.”

“Ok then, bye.” I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to go on my own. But I also didn’t want to go home with just a few. Just then I saw Jeremy, another friend of mine, with Max, a kid in our grade. I ran over and asked if they wanted to join me. 

“Sure,” they said.

We went on a couple of streets, so my pillowcase became half full. Just then I got a text from my mom. Come home now. It’s an emergency.

“Guys, my mom says apparently there's some emergency,” I informed Jeremy and Max.

“Then maybe you should get going,” they tell me.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll stay.” 

“If it’s an emergency, you better go check it out. Candy may not be as important,” Max says.

“No, my mom will call if it's really urgent.”

“Ok, then.”

I put my phone back in my pocket. 

We spent the next hour trick or treating, Then, Jeremy left. 

“Do you want to leave?” asks Max.

“Nah, I need more candy.”

“I think my mom is gonna call any second and tell me I need to be home. Also, you should go check out what your mom was talking about.”

“Let's wait till she does then. And it’s fine.” I reached for my phone. “If it’s really really urgent, she will ca-”

I stared at my phone. 5 missed calls. From my mom. I felt ashamed. 

“I told you so.”

“Shut up,” I bit back, “I need to run home now.” 

While sprinting across the street, I saw my mom with my little brother, Dylan.

“ TOM I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU WHERE WERE YOU?” she exclaimed in anger.

“I just saw your missed calls,” I told her. Then I heard a siren in the distance. Actually, not in the distance. From… our street? I looked at our house. Except it wasn’t a house now. Fire trucks and police cars were lined up on the street, and the smoke alarms were ringing, all when I realized I had forgotten to turn the stove off, all in a rush for candy. Wait.. where even was my candy? Oh shoot, I left it. Somewhere.

MORAL: Put your needs before your wants.

Dreams…

Present Day

“You are hereby sentenced to death on the counts of…”

24 Hours Earlier…

“Good evening!” I said pleasantly as my colleague, Catherine, walked into the elevator. Work had just ended, and I headed to my car in the garage.

“Good evening to you as well, Justin,” Catherine said with a reciprocated tone while she brushed a lock of chestnut hair from her face and smoothed out her wrinkled suit.

“What floor are you going to?” I asked.

“Same as you, I suppose. Time we leave this wretched place for the day,” she muttered as she pulled out a comb to fix her uncooperative hair. Our jobs at Still Enterprises (a prominent investing company) overworked us with long hours, and we despised them. But the pay was good.

I clicked on ground level, and the elevator descended. The elevators for our company were extremely lavish (as was the entire company (the company had private cars, planes, houses, hotels, money, and whatever else you can imagine)). The one we were in was colossal! It gleamed like a diamond, played music, and was utterly amazing! It was even air-conditioned, yet you couldn’t hear the all too familiar, telltale hum of one. I guess this is what you get when you work for Still Enterprises. 

The size of our building was quite considerable. It was a total of twenty floors. We had just made it to the tenth floor when the elevator suddenly stopped and started to sway back and forth, crashing against the sides of the wall, the cables groaning under the immense weight. We froze and stared at each other with terrified looks while panic formed on our faces as we realized that the elevator was malfunctioning and could collapse at a moment's notice.

“What’s going on, Justin?!?!” Catherine shouted hysterically.

“I don’t know!” I yelled back. I ran my hand through my blond, silky hair, trying to come up with a solution. No one’s phones worked in the elevators, so that was ruled out. Then I spotted it. “I’m going to press the emergency button on the panel. We need to call for help and get out of here ASAP. DON’T make any sudden movements,” I said with a steady voice as I walked towards the panel. The elevator kept rocking back and forth, while Catherine shook uncontrollably as the elevator scrapped the sides of the walls. I kept at it, gripping the rails with dear might. I made it to the panel and slammed the emergency button. 

Then the elevator lights went dark.

“AHHHHH!” Catherine screamed in a high-pitched voice. 

I ran towards her, not caring if the elevator collapsed. I did recognize the situation required intense caution, but… love makes you do crazy things. “Are you alright, dear?!?” I asked fearful something happened to my wife. 

“I-I’m f-fine. J-just startled. I t-though the lights are s-supposed to turn red, not off?” she stuttered, gripping my arm as tears streamed down her pale face.

“Just stay calm,” I told her reassuringly, confused myself as to why the lights didn’t turn red, “Help will come soon. We’ll be home before you know it. Safe and sound.”

“O-ok,” she said, sobbing. She fell into my arms as we sat on the ground. Catherine has always been scared of the dark and small spaces (the elevator might have been large, but someone with claustrophobia would think differently). 

As we leaned into each other, comforted by each other's warmth, our exhaustion began to set in as we drifted off into dreamland…

5 Hours Later…

I bolted up with a gasp, suddenly awake. I swallowed and looked around the room as I tried to figure out where I was. I saw the all too familiar elevator panel, and Catherine leaned against me and remembered what happened. The elevator rocking and swaying, the lights turning the wrong color… Wait a second. How long have we been here? How long have we been asleep? It’s probably been hours. This isn’t good. We should be out by now. I looked at my watch to see how long we slept, but strangely my watch wasn’t working. My watch never stops working. Something isn’t right.                 

“Catherine, wake up,” I said, giving her a small nudge. Something wasn’t adding up, and two brains are better than one.

Catherine woke up with a yawn, her placid face crusty from the tears, as she took in her surroundings. “We’re still here?” she asked sleepily with a frown.

“Afraid so,” I muttered, confusion riddled in my voice.

“We should’ve been out hours ago!” she asked, frustrated. I didn’t blame her for being upset. We both were tired and bedraggled.

Then our blood froze as we heard a small, mischievous, little laugh.  

“Fool me once, fool me twice, now I fool YOU! TIME TO PAY! IN DEATH!!” the voice said. The voice started in a cute, boyish tone but ended as a blood-chilling, terror-inducing growl. 

“SHOW YOURSELF!” I commanded, furious that someone was playing such games with us.

Famous last words.

With one blink of an eye, the elevator plummeted, bringing us to our demise…

10 Minutes Later…

I woke up with a startled gasp, sweat pouring down my chest. I looked around and saw my lamp, my bedside table, the door to my bathroom, my TV, and my desk. I was in my bedroom. It was all a dream. Thank goodness! I let out an uneasy laugh and wiped my brow. I looked to my side and noticed Catherine wasn’t there. I began to panic again. Then I remembered it was my day off. Catherine was at work. I shook my head at my foolishness and chuckled. I’m taking a nightmare seriously? Good grief.

I got up, showered, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and was about to sit down and call Catherine to tell her about my weird dream when a knock came on my door. I walked over to my door, curious to know who was knocking on my door at nine in the morning on a Sunday. I looked through the peephole and saw two police officers. This can’t be good, can it? I opened the door and greeted the pair. 

“Good morning, officers! May I help you?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid. Are you the husband of Catherine Still? The owner of Still Enterprises?” the police officer asked woefully.

“Yes. I’m Justin Still, her husband. I’m the co-owner of Still Enterprises. Is Catherine all right? Did something happen?!” I asked, panic creeping into my voice, fearing my worst dreams had come true.

“I’m afraid so. There was an elevator accident this morning. She was in the elevator as it collapsed. I’m afraid it wasn’t an accident either. She was murdered. I’m very sorry for your loss. We are investigating who might have done this to her. We suspect foreign involvement,” the officer gave a sad, sympathetic smile as he finished his piece.

I sank to the floor without a care in the world. The joy of that world has perished. All that was left was despair. I began to sob and cry out my misery while snot dripped down my face. I wished that it was me instead of her who had to work today. I wished that we both took the day off. I wished that my life ended, so I could see my love again in Heaven.  

Then I heard the squeal of tires, and the smell of burning rubber as a procession of cars sped down the road. They parked in front of my house haphazardly. I sniffled and got up, and began to make my way forward, the two police officers still there but now with their weapons drawn. But they holstered their service weapons as out came more than a dozen people wearing vests that said “F.B.I.”.

“W-What’s go-going on?” I stuttered to the agent that walked up to me, carrying handcuffs. 

“Robert Still. You are under arrest for ten counts of felony tax evasion, eight counts of murder, and three counts of treason against the United States of America,” the agent said with a neutral tone but with a look of disdain on her face. The agent roughly handcuffed me and began to lead me to a car, as I stared bewildered at her but with a look of defeat as I understood what she was talking about. How did they find out? As we walked to the car, she told me in a booming voice, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights that I have just read to you?”

I emotionlessly nodded yes, as I was led to meet my demons…

THE END

Crush Culture

Life, especially middle school, is so monotonous, Aaron thought. The same people, the same drama. What is the point of it all? Just to come here, and experience total grief, and--

Aaron was pushed by someone in the hallway. His books then escaped his arms and claimed the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron,” a girl apologized. She pulled back her straight hair to reveal hazel eyes and a small grin. Aaron got up and placed his books back in his hands. He then stood tall and looked at the girl.

“It’s okay, Demi. I was actually just wondering where you were.”

“I was searching for you, too,” Demi responded with a light punch in his arm, “Come on, let’s get to class.”

The two walked together to class in the busy hallways. They looked at each other, and their cheeks were painted red. Aaron’s hand slightly grasped Demi and the locked fingers for a second. Until…

“Hey, Demi. Hey, Aaron! What’s going on?” a boy interrupted. He wore a small sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants, and shoes way too big for his feet.

“Oh, hey, Justin. Aaron and I were just walking to class.”

“Aaron, hmm? What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing, Justin. You don’t have to be in everyone’s business. You definitely changed from last summer.”

“Well, maybe you just changed. I stayed the same. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Justin retorted. “Anyways, Demi, did you complete the Social Studies assignment?”

“Yea, I think he’ll like it. Thanks for working with me on the project.”

“Anytime, I’ll always be there for you,” Justin said as he walked away with him in Demi’s ear.

I just can’t. I can’t stand what I struggle to do. 

“Okay, class, it’s time for Writing Wednesday. Take out those notebooks and start writing,” his English teacher spoke. He grasped his notebook and his pencil started marking his paper:

You always look for me when I’m missing you

The way you sway, you take my day away

Everytime time you giggle I feel like I see fireworks

You make me jubilant, like  seeing July 4th fireworks in May

I know all your classes by heart, always waiting for it to end

Because I know when I’m with you

You always feel more 

Than “just a friend”

Even though every time he comes he takes your attention

I hope you notice me

Because I've tried so hard to make myself seen

Underneath the seams you already have with him

Every time I look at you, I don’t know what to say

Except the words that could change my day in a drastic way

You’re never my second choice, my last resort, my plan B

Because every time I see you I believe you can be more

More than a thought , more than a memory

More than a person I get to see

Sometimes my mind is triggered to tell you:

“When you look in my soul for what I admire, do you see yourself too?”

You can write more than that, Aaron thought. He picked up a new sharpened pencil and continued:

Every time you show up, you end a moment waiting to happen

You ruin the blushing, the laughing

Because of you, there’s nothing in her I get to see

We walk, we talk, we look into each other’s souls

But when you show up and interrupt

It's like someone took my heart

And tore it apart

I feel like you’re still mad at me for having feelings

For “taking” her, when I just saw something

Something you saw beyond

Because all you saw her as was a target, a pawn

Over the summer, I changed

She changed, but you stayed the same

Always having to get mad at me

When you hurt her heart, you caused her pain

If you're comparing us, then I’m the Band-Aid

You're the piece of glass that cut her

Left a mark, then left

We fell for each other, the pot was never stirred

I didn’t intend to hurt you

I didn’t want you to end up sad

But at the end of the day

I’m on her mind, you’re irrelevant, and you can’t repair anything of what you had

“Aaron, what you write of is very prolific. Please, continue,” the teacher whispered. As told, he wrote:

Even though you only told her

She’s my friend, and she’ll never slack

I now know that you like me

I know that you like me back

Ever since I knew, I saw you blush

Your stare, your smiles

I bet you saw mine, I hope you did

I can see yours from miles

I know you're anxious, I know you’re frightened

That I don’t feel your butterflies

But the clues were dealt and they’re obvious

I saw your poems, I knew and hoped it was me inside

Don’t believe what you think

It’s not true

I like you

And I know from friends you’re hiding it too

“Okay, last notes!” The teacher yelled. Similar to his time with Demi, what started he couldn’t finish in time. Not before someone had to interrupt…

R.E.D.

 Costume: on

Snack: ready

--Halloween is a go--

While walking to school on the crisp and eerie morning of Monday, with the thick, and pleasant aroma of fall, and  dew on the grass, I notice a squirrel in the corner of my eye. But this is no regular squirrel. It looks mangled and distorted, very small, and covered with red  blood. I turn my head to get a closer look at the beast of nature, but it…vanishes? I dismiss the sight of it, and go on with my walk. 

I check my phone to see the time, and it is blowing up with messages from my friends talking about their costumes, and what they wanna be. How childish of them. Freshman year of high school, and still dressing up as cowgirls, and superman.

Halloween might be childish, but it’s the best night of the year.  I can torment little children, and scare kids head’s off without getting in trouble. I only know one thing. Tonight. Is  Gonna. Be. Fun.

While sleeping at the back of the classroom during  first period, I feel  something hit my head. Not a hard hit, but just a tiny tap, so I open my eyes, and in front of me is a small note. A small, crumpled up, white note. I open it while looking around for who had thrown it to me, but nobody looks back. I peel the note off of itself as if it had been stuck together by glue, and when I finally got it open it read R.E.D. in capital letters. I stare at the note wondering what R.E.D could mean, but more importantly, who threw it to me. Just an excellent start to my Halloween morning.

Ninth period I am still on my toes about the whole note thing. Maybe it was just a Halloween prank. Right?

I meet my best friend, Dylan, at his locker, and tell  him about the note.

“Dylan, what if this thing is real, and it means something? I’m getting concerned,” I snap at Dylan.

“I told you, Dom.  It's probably some silly little stupid joke by a senior to scare you. And you know what?”

“What?”

“It’s working,” Dylan remarks as he begins his walk home.

I mean, Dylan is sorta smart…It probably is just a stupid little joke.

Night approaches, and a shiver runs down my spine  while walking out the door, still wondering what that little stupid note could mean. I met Dylan at his house, and I put on my costume -- aka Edward Scissorhands. We grab our pillow cases, and set off for the long night ahead of us. The first house we stop at is a  quaint white picket fence house with an old worn-out  red door. I call dibs on the first house, I pick up the bucket filled with 100 Grands, Reese’s, Twix, little trinkets and objects,  and dump it in my bucket. Who cares if some old lady came walking out? What would she do?

Dylan and I giggle the night away, scaring little children with unicorn and  Superman costumes on, and seeing them frightened, and screaming while running away is the best part. Some kid drops his bucket of candy, and all of it was in mint condition,  so I just took it, because why not? Another kid calls me fake, so I rip his shirt with my fingers, and he runs away crying. It is the night of my life. 

The last street opens up to a vast plain with nothing but weeds, and overgrown grass. A small house with a red door, almost like the first one we visited, lay in the middle of the plain. Nobody went down there.

Nobody except me and Dylan…We walk slowly towards the house with a rotten  porch, and dead plants hanging off the side of the rail.

“I don't know man, it doesn’t seem like anyone's home. We should just go back,”  I utter with a nervous laugh.

“What? Are you scared or something? Come on Dom, it can't be THAT bad.”

“You sure about this Dylan?”

“Yes.”

The porch creeks, each step sounding like screams of pain. The red door has a little crack we can see through. Empty. 

“Dylan, there’s nothing in there. No point.”

Dylan doesn’t  listen to me. He walks into the old house with a creek at each step he takes.

“Dylan! I am not joking anymore. Get out of that house or I will go in there and pull by your hair if I need to,” I hollered at him.

Dylan doesn’t come, so ,like anyone else would do--or maybe just me--I open the door a little more, and take a step inside. I can  sense something watching me,  and my heart pounds through  my chest. I can almost feel it about to burst. 1….2…..3. I put both feet  in, and I am overwhelmed with relief to see Dylan still standing in the middle of the house. I walk  up to him and hear a noise coming from across the room.

“Uhm, Dylan I think we should go. Y’know to go make some kids cry…”

I hear the little taps get closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. The squirrel peaks out from the stairs. The mangled, distorted, mini beast of nature squirrel.

“Run,” the squirrel somehow says.

“Dylan! Lets. GO!” I say  with a mixture of anger and fear in my voice.

He turns around, and he looks like his regular old self, but something seems…different. He has no smile, his eyes are dark, and his skin is  pale like a ghosts.

“ R.E.D.,” Dylan manages to say in a wispy voice.

“Red? Dylan, stop trying to scare me. It's NOT gonna work.”

“R.E.D.”

“R.E.D.”

The air feels heavy, the light outside goes  red. Darkness encapsulates my eyes.

“R.E.D.

“R.E.D.”

“R.E.D.”

--Halloween is over--

I’m home.

Lights: off.

Life at the Hands of Me

They took me as I was walking.

I was leaving school, going my usual route when it happened. 

Three people in black suits came out of the alleyway next to my house. Yanking my L-HOM out of my backpack, one of them took their own out, and wrote something in it. I had a pretty good idea of what they wrote, because a few seconds later, another one of their partners came driving in a car. As they shoved me in the vehicle, I took one last, long look at our house. The paint was peeling off the outside. The original robin egg blue color was stained with dirt. It was a sad house, but it was still home. The house seemed to call out to me, begging me to stay. I wanted to. I really did want to. I couldn’t. 

The next thing I remember, I was in a strange room. It was clear I was being interrogated, evident by the two government officials sitting at a table.. The strange thing? The room itself was my bedroom, and I was sitting on the bed.. Well, I knew it wasn’t my real bedroom. My real bedroom was disorganized, and the bed was small. The bedframe was broken. A dog bed lay on the floor, but there was no dog occupying it. This room was my room the way I wanted it to be. The way it used to be. For starters, it was clean. My bed was full of pillows, and I could stretch out on it without half of my body hanging off. It was comfortable. Something I hadn’t known in a long time. The dog bed, which had previously been empty, was being used by a small Yorkshire Terrier. Winter. I spoke. 

“Where am I?” I asked, wary of the people in front of me.

“We wanted this to feel as normal as possible,” the guy on the right spoke, then paused, and cleared his throat, “as happy as possible.”

“We took your L-HOM and found your old room description buried in it. We brought it to life,” said the other, gesturing to the room.

You may be wondering how my room got to such disastrous conditions. Simple. My mother. Lucia Torrez. She broke the rules. She paid the price. 

Lucia had walked in my room, clearly agitated. She was always angry before. We got into an argument, and she took out her L-HOM, enraged. She messed my room up. And erased my dog. And she broke the rules. The rules are:

1. You cannot change something that has previously been used by L-HOM. Example: If you use L-HOM to land yourself a job, an annoyed competitor can’t give the job to themselves.

LUCIA BREAKAGE - she used the L-HOM to remove Winter, whom I had written into my story a year before.

2. You cannot use your L-HOM to destroy property or erase others.

LUCIA BREAKAGE - she destroyed my room and erased my dog.

3. You cannot change others’ feelings, or erase their memories.

LUCIA BREAKAGE - she took away my memory of my father. To be fair, she did this before the previous breaking of rules, but she did it nonetheless

4. Follow all the other rules

LUCIA BREAKAGE - you can see for yourself

“What do you want? Do you normally go around and kidnap other 15 year olds, or is this a one time sort of thing?” I asked, after deducing that my captors had no weapons, and didn’t seem to be overly dangerous.

“No,” one of them, who I am going to refer to as Geoff, said. “You’re the first person we’ve done this to.”

“Wow, I feel so special,” I replied snarkily.

Geoff and the other guard ignored me. They walked to Winter’s bed and gave her to me.

“Wouldn’t you love to live in a world that’s not controlled by L-HOM?” the other guard, Bob now, asked, “A world where you have to work hard to get the things you want, and can’t just write it into existence?” I turned away from them, uninterested.

“Why would I want that?” I asked. “Everything’s worked pretty well for me so far, and I can’t say I like the idea of an uncertain future that I can’t make my own.

“That’s the thing,” Geoff said, “your life was ruined by L-HOM. Not fixed. Ruined. If it weren’t for L-HOM, then you would still remember your father.”

“Don’t say his name. I hate him. He left my mom and I when we needed him the most.”

“Fine, fine,” Geoff started, raising his arms in mock surrender, “but don’t act as if L-HOM magically made your life better.”

I turned back. 

“I guess that’s true. Fine, I’m in. What do I need to do?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Geoff said, “but alright. Just stay calm and don’t get ma-”

The other guard, clearly the more forward of the two, interrupted Geoff. 

“We have to find your father.”

"The Smiths" 

It was a warm, summer day when the Smith family arrived at Disneyland. They had been planning this trip for months, and they were all filled with excitement and anticipation. They spent the entire day riding roller coasters, taking pictures with their favorite Disney characters, and eating delicious food.

But as the day started to come to an end, something went terribly wrong. The Smiths realized that their youngest child, their 9-month-old baby, was missing. Panic set in, and the family frantically searched the park for their missing child. Letting out war cries the mother says, “Someone, anyone, HELP, where’s my baby?”

After hours of searching, they finally found their baby, safe and sound, in the arms of a kind-hearted woman who had found the child wandering around the park. The kind-hearted woman had a gold Tiffany & Co. necklace, purple polo shirt, and grey shorts to the knee. The family was overjoyed and relieved, but they couldn't shake the feeling of fear that had taken hold of them. The Smiths also decided to take a picture with her because it will be a time they will never forget.

When they returned home from their trip, they decided to look through the pictures they had taken at Disneyland. As they were scrolling through their photos, they noticed something strange. In one of the pictures, taken while they were riding a roller coaster, they could see a faint image of a woman holding their baby in the background. The Smith’s baby was wrapped in a blue blanket just like the baby the woman was holding. 

At first, they were confused, but then they realized the shocking truth. The kind-hearted woman who had found their baby at Disneyland was the same woman who had been holding their child in the background of the roller coaster picture. It was as if the woman had been following them all day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take their child.

The Smith family was shocked and horrified, but they were grateful that their child was safe. They reported the incident to the authorities giving the picture of them all together. Fortunately, the woman was eventually caught and brought to justice. But the family would never forget the day they almost lost their baby, and they would always wonder what other dangers lurked in the shadows, even in the happiest place on earth.