Patrick: The Waterfall

The girl complained, hot and sticky within their raincoats. Newcrest offered a different climate and four defined seasons. Rainforests remained consistent, with a warm environment for the tall evergreen trees. Ferns and colourful plants thriving in the wet, humid conditions presented. The ground was a blend of tall grasses, creeping vines and dirt. A winding path, carved out by the many visitors this place had seen over the years. Beneath the soil were remnants of limestone. Small piles of raided earth uncovered pieces of broken pottery. Avocado trees grew wild and plentiful. Another tree hosted unusual berries, like grapes. Leticia told the girls to be wary of these. They varied in colour and influenced a person’s emotions when eaten. Her ancestors used them in divination or to heal the sick. While the effects were often temporary, their misuse could be deadly.

Thick thorny vines snaked their way across the stone pillars. These were the gateways to the temple and its ruins. A gated warning to the traveller, these vines were alive and would soon reseal the path once crossed. Undeterred by the superstition, Patrick swung the machete. It struck with a disappointing tap against its unyielding foe. He threw his weight behind each swing denting the branch until it snapped. The sound echoed, disturbing a flock of birds resting nearby. Patrick tugged the vines, wary of the spikes that snagged his clothes. Luliana squealed, jumping onto a rock as a snake slithered into the long grass a few feet away from her. In his concern for his daughter, Patrick’s hand caught the sharp edge of the broken vine. A large splinter embedded itself in his palm below his little finger. He cussed the air, clutching his hand between his thighs. Leticia rushed to his aid, using tweezers to remove the invading wood.

Their journey showed the power of nature to reclaim what humans once stole. The jungle swallowed crumbling stone walls, totems and bolted wooden gates. Wooden slates, held together with rope, created the bridge. The cavern beneath fell to the rocky waters, and a fine spray met the sun to create rainbows. Each tentative step brought them closer to their doom as they clung tight to the slack rope handrail. The bridge swayed, creaked and groaned. Patrick gripped tighter at the snapping twig Luliana stepped on, at the other side. He no longer needed to wonder if life would flash before his eyes.

The rushing water grew louder as they followed the path to the first significant ruin. There was speculation over its usage. The floor remained intact, with nature bursting through the cracks. A bush with yellow flowers with orange centres and large leaves looked inviting. Patrick imagined what secrets this bush would tell had it a voice. It was a rumour that the water here had fertile properties. Visitors to this place reported conceiving their babies in this place. They succumbed to its beauty, hypnotised by the cascading water. The pull he and Leticia felt to each other was a testament to those rumours. Patrick shifted, subtle tugs on his trousers to adjust them. Leticia seemed to slow, her moves a hazy dream. At that point in the film, the hapless hero sets his sights on the out-of-his-league beauty. Leticia fanned herself, pinching at her top to create a draft, her eyes holding Patrick’s for a few moments.

Patrick knew if he kissed her, he would forget everything. Instead, he lunged forward, closing the gap and landing with regret on his knee. His voice pitched another octave before he composed him. Luliana gasped, guessing the magic that was to happen. She had seen the ring, finding it in his jacket pocket, when she was looking for some money for treats. A single solitaire diamond, half a carat, was set upon a white gold band. Leticia bit her lips, breaking into a huge smile as he asked her to make him and their family whole.

Patrick: Selvadorada

Selvadorada, a place surrounded by lush green rainforests. It held secrets within, of hidden ruins awaiting discovery. Leticia sold the girls on the adventures that awaited them in the jungle. Daciana giggled, a mean streak aimed at her sister’s naivety. She frightened Luliana with the notion the monkeys might kidnap her. They would creep and tie her up amongst the vines in the middle of the night. When Leticia offered comfort, assurances there were no evil monkeys, Daciana changed tact. Losing her sister in the forest might be a good thing; she could live like Tarzan and learn to be the hero of her story. Luliana associated with the princesses, the damsels needing a saviour. Those old dusty fairytales, filled with romance and masculine heroes. Luliana wanted that for herself. Seeing Patrick and Leticia, made her happy, as she awaited the fairy tale wedding.

Daciana folded her arms; tormenting her sister had its limits as Patrick put her on time out. She pouted, forcing air out her nose or tapping her foot, irritating everyone. The flight from San Myshuno had felt longer due to the constant bickering. Patrick breathed a sigh of relief to have made it to their temporary home. It was dark, with the family tired and hungry; Patrick served the food Leticia’s friends made. Daciana scowled, annoyed at Patrick for siding with Luliana. She stabbed at the food, scratching the plate with her fork. Patrick snapped, ordering her to bed. He breathed slow controlled breaths as Daciana stomped upstairs, slamming the door.

He hoped the morning would improve Daciana’s mood and the beautiful weather Leticia promised. Neither prevailed; the sky remained grey. The threat of rain was a reminder that winter was approaching. Daciana moaned, how walking miles through the unchartered jungle to look at a big rock was pointless. A rumble scared Luliana; she clung to Leticia, her eye widened, hoping to see the threat before it snapped. Patrick wished he could shut out the complaints. They had two days to enjoy the beauty and delights Selvadorada offered.

The heart of this area was inviting. A statue of a young woman welcomed visitors. Leticia informed them of the statue’s power to bestow a blessing. Innocent explorers seeking the knowledge of the ancient ones were often cursed in their pursuit. A hand placed up the base could free them. The idea there would be dangers to uncover and a way to survive them caught Daciana’s attention. She wondered how it would tell the difference between those with good or bad intentions. Leticia shrugged, hoping the girls would appreciate the magic. For Daciana, she believed, as in normal life, there must be a catch. A chance to remove the curse would incur some penalty. A request for money or, as in Leticia’s story, gold, meant this was nothing but a scam.

Breakfast would be a challenge. Luliana wanted pancakes, and Daciana worried; despite her rumbling stomach, nothing would agree. Leticia brought a selection, Pastel de Camarão, Empanadas de Verde and Buñuelos. The latter met Luliana’s approval. They were not her favourite choice for breakfast, but they were a close second.

Patrick chatted with the locals, a language barrier bridged by Leticia. She relished the opportunity to speak her native language. The idea Leticia might enjoy a joke at his expense made Patrick uneasy. Much of the laughter would lose its humour in translation. Patrick knew he should have paid more attention in class or asked Leticia to teach him. He packed supplies as Leticia, paid the man who touched her hand longer than necessary. Clearing his throat, Leticia stepped back, linking arms with Patrick. With girls on either side, they head to the boat and the adventure.

Patrick: Family Life

Family life had a rhythm. It was chaotic in the mornings; the twins shovelled food into their mouths. After a mad search for homework, they flew through the door half dressed to catch the bus. The evenings were noisy but slower-paced. The girls moaned over homework. Leticia assisted, keeping a loving eye on Patrick as he prepared dinner. She surprised herself with how easy it was to slide into family life. Taking on the role of a mother had its drawbacks. Luliana was loving, open and excitable. Having a mum was everything she dreamed of, and Leticia fit the bill most days. Daciana pushed back, yelling at Patrick when he intervened. Leticia rubbed her temples; Daciana could do maths in her sleep and recite chess moves. It made no sense to scream about the variable expressions when she knew what they represented.

The weekend meant forgetting the childish bickering and tantrums. Leticia ensured the girls had no homework or projects. They refused to let anything, the weather included, dampen the two days of excitement. Luliana woke Saturday morning eager to start, unlike the rest of the house. She would shovel pancakes into her mouth faster than Patrick could make them. Speaking with her mouth full, Luliana searched the paper for events or new movies for them all to enjoy.

After Rylan died, his work found itself in the dusty regions of the library, making way for new writers. The movie Patrick hoped would meet the demands of their family weekend was “Breakaway”. It was his favourite book, at least when Eliza would read it to Charlotte, and he pretended not to be listening. The girls were curious but preferred to see “Reading With The River”. Patrick cringed at the idea of another children’s film, suggesting he brought it on DVD. Daciana shrugged; her noncommittal attitude to family life was grating. She wanted to bury herself in her room, crank up the music and ignore the world around her. Patrick dreaded the day the girls became teens; Daciana was a ticking time bomb.

They arrived as the cinema opened its doors. Luliana ran to the counter to request their tickets. She yelled at Leticia asking if she wanted sweet popcorn. The movie was a highlighted version of the book Patrick remembered. A fragmented story flitting back and forth between past and present. It was a relief to Patrick he had read the book, as the girls began a popcorn fight, and Leticia checked her watch. Luliana spoke smugly, how they should have seen her film choice.

Daciana eyed the arcade machine, challenging them all to a game. Patrick watched Daciana, a large grin as she blasted the oncoming spaceships. He wished she would show this side of herself at home; he missed her energy. One by one, their ships exploded. Luliana pouted as the first to go. Daciana remained to the end, completing the level and achieving a top-ten score. She wriggled free his celebratory hug, the smile replaced by cold indifference. His shoulder drooped. Patrick’s enthusiasm to make a fool of himself on the skating rink, disappeared.

Milly: The Next Level


Milly’s phone buzzed with Hunter’s messages. He would call over before work, inviting her for coffee and pastries. She would pick at the flaky textures, listening to him. Hunter worked at Newcrest bowling alley maintaining the machines. This was temporary until Sim Nation woke up to his musical and comedic talent. His main reason for working there was as captain of the reigning team, “Split Happens”. The butterflies in her stomach when she was close to him made it hard to eat. He had a firm disappointed tone at the mess created. But how could she eat? They had not kissed since the sofa, and she could not think of anything else. Milly would watch how his lips moved, craving their touch. She needed those arms around her and was too afraid to ask. Everything became jumbled in her mind and she was too distracted for work.

For Eliza, her career reached its pinnacle. As an all-star player, she had seen her team through to the semi-finals of the Sim Nation Cup. A win against Del Sol Valley at the weekend would put them in the final. That, win or lose, would be the perfect end to her sporting career. Her focus, in recent years, changed to settling down and raising a family with Scarlett. They were not at that stage. Eliza was building the courage to take their relationship to co-habiting status. Scarlett spent their time in the apartment, sleeping over for days. Their stuff appeared in the bathroom, and in Eliza’s bedroom, they had a drawer. Milly and Eliza were passing ships, neither spending more than five minutes together.

Hunter swung by her work on the Saturday lunch. He confiscated her plain cheese sandwich and tossed it in the bin. Instead, he laid out Samosa he brought in the Spice District. Her colleagues looked over, jealous of the triangular pastries. The spicy aromatic smell, the crack as she bit into one. It was the perfect blend of vegetables and potatoes. Hunter leaned back in the chair, watching her devour all three. Her supervisor summoned her; Hunter stepped into Milly’s path, kissing her cheek. A trail of them led to her lips. The supervisor cleared their throat as Milly looped her arms around Hunter. She was happy to annoy anyone if she got her second kiss.

The same evening Hunter arrived as promised. Their first official date required a train ride to Brindleton Bay. Milly had not seen her hometown since her mother died, and nothing appeared to have changed. Hunter watched Milly recount memories. The art gallery had the same display Vicky had shown her years before. Other people gathered, asking their questions under the assumption she worked there. Milly felt obliged to answer, but Hunter stepped in, dismissing them. He held her hand as she remained quiet at his side.

At the door, Hunter’s kisses were different. His tongue pushed her lips apart and caressed hers. In a surprise, Milly stepped back, pressing herself against the wall. He had years of experience, relationships he mentioned in passing. Everything she knew of romance came from books, magazines, and the people around her. Hunter kissed her hand, knowing what he wanted, the future he saw for them. He closed the gap, taking the apartment keys. Her hand trembled in his, the excitement building through her body. Milly hesitated at the giggling coming from Eliza’s bedroom. Part of her felt she should ask if Hunter could stay the night, but he had already made himself comfy on her bed.

Milly and Hunter pose https://thesimscatalog.com/sims4/downloads/game-mods/poses/pillow-talk-pose-pack/

Milly: Second Chance

In the months following her failed first kiss, Milly threw herself into work. The Arts Centre demanded perfection from the creators it employed. The majority of her work included showing patrons around the gallery. She spoke about the art, bringing energy and enthusiasm. Unlike her peers, Milly wanted to learn what inspired such works. Showing a painting of eggs and bacon needed context for those ignorant of the artist in question. Her mother had starved for her art, so Milly could see the hunger this painter poured into each stroke. Viewers raised an eyebrow, questioning why they choose this frivolous and unstable career. Milly knew she would speak out of turn, but why would someone live unfulfilled? A stable job puts food on the table and keeps a roof, but where is the passion? There were grumbles and a disapproving look from her supervisor. Art was an expression of self, a reflection of human emotion. Milly wanted everyone to feel this for themselves.

Passing Hunter in the hall or waiting for the lift, Milly kept her head down. Scarlett spent more time with Eliza, so Milly was grateful to have company on her way to work. Hunter had attempted conversation, but her voice caught in her throat. She dropped her head as memories of her birthday flooded her mind. Having Scarlett there meant he would speak with her instead. Milly refused to tell Eliza and Scarlett what happened between her and Hunter. Knowing Eliza disliked Hunter made telling the truth harder. Eliza never outright said it, but both she and Scarlett felt he was not a good person.

Milly wanted to take back her actions, to have a second chance with Hunter. The opportunity presented itself in the form of a text. Eliza and Scarlett were going to the Romance Festival, which meant they would be home late. Hunter knocked on the door, greeting her with a thin smile, bearing no teeth. Milly stammered, hesitating to invite him in. He reclined on the sofa; at home in the apartment. Milly’s throat tightened as Hunter patted the space beside him.

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She sat on the edge, inches from him, legs squeezed together and playing with her fingers. The silence felt unbearable; the voices from the street below were fleeting. His eyes drifted over her frame, lingering on her lips, breast, and thighs. Milly flinched as he reached for her hand, followed by an immediate apology. She stood breathless, a rambling continuation of how foolish she had been. Hunter took her hand, bringing her back to the sofa. He turned her face, and his lips to grazed hers. His tongue teased the inner rim, retracting and pressing his lips to hers. Each kiss was soft, a whisper of what he intended. Milly loosened her jaw, relaxing into the kiss as his tongue pressed deeper into her mouth.

Milly and Hunter poses https://www.patreon.com/posts/tv-first-kiss-55515355

Milly: First Kiss

Eliza filled the fridge with treats; Scarlett’s cooking made the apartment smell delicious. It brought a host of neighbours knocking on their door. Eliza had hoped to keep this as a family event since Charlotte and Caleb wanted to be present for Milly’s big day. Eliza wondered how time had disappeared. It seemed not too long ago she was moving in, and life was changing for them both. Scarlett almost dropped the stew as Milly ran into the kitchen, screaming. Vicky’s presence in the art community had a positive influence on Milly. She applied and accepted a position with San Myshuno Art Gallery as an apprentice Artist. Milly hesitated, feeling coy, a realisation, she had not checked with Eliza. She assumed she could remain living with her until she got a proper position. Eliza teased, but this place was her home too.

Well-wishers and two hungry children saw the prepared food devoured. Eliza was too slow to stop them from indulging in the birthday cake. She busied herself in the kitchen with a second, leaving Scarlett to play host, topping up the drinks. Milly had found a distraction in the form of Hunter. His jade-green eyes focused on her. A gentle touch of her chin or cheek if she looked down or away from him. Milly spoke of her excitement, about staying in the city to create art. Her dream is to own a gallery to showcase her work. She also hoped to teach the next generation, as her mother taught her.

Interrupting Milly and Hunter was difficult. There were candles to blow, and the twins had already sung happy birthday until they were hoarse. The latter, Eliza believed, was an excuse to indulge in more of the alcohol-free punch. Full of sugar, Patrick hoped the girls would fall asleep in the apartment. He begged Eliza to keep them so he and Leticia could sneak off until the morning. Eliza had an uneasy feeling watching Hunter. He had ignored Milly, at times dismissive of her presence. On her eighteenth birthday, Milly appeared not to notice his sudden change. She felt heated under his gaze, her finger touched his arm when they spoke, and he did not reject. Eliza cleared her throat louder, glaring at Milly. As they headed to the kitchen, Hunter took Milly’s hand, pulling her closer to him. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and eager not to miss the chance, Milly decided to make her move. She wet her lip, her mouth feeling dry. Standing on tiptoes, Milly pressed her lips to Hunters. They were thin and unresponsive as he took a surprising side step. Milly lost her balance, toppling to the sofa. Her cheeks burned, unable to meet his gaze. With a foolish notion and a messy first kiss, Milly was no longer in the birthday mood. Hunter did not say anything. As she cut the cake, he made his exit.

Milly wished the world could swallow her; eyes stung, she ran into her bedroom as the guests departed. Burying herself into the lavender-scented covers, Milly sobbed. Eliza began using the scent when Milly first moved to the city. The sweet floral helped soothe her, lull her into slumber. She hugged the pillow hoping it would offer comfort in her embarrassment. How could she be so foolish? Hunter had shown interest, curious about her future. The magazine she read told her signs to look for in a man. Milly had been stupid, making a mental note and seeing them where there was nothing to find. How could she remain in the apartment, knowing he lived across the hall? She would never be able to show her face again.

Hunter and Milly picture https://www.patreon.com/posts/tv-dont-harass-59551665

Charlotte: Lucky Ones

There was a time Charlotte, blinded by love, saw Caleb as the future and nothing more. Despite the pleasures she discovered within Caleb’s arms, Charlotte grew restless. Caleb’s protective nature bound her to their home. Her nights were training with Lilith or socialising with other vampires. It surprised her, she preferred comforting Cornelius’s bad dreams. She yawned her way through the days, unable to sleep. As her eyes closed in the dawning hours, Charlotte thought of the life before. Memories of her mother, how disappointed she would be with the choices. Scenarios where her daughters accepted her and became a part of her life; shattered. The harshness of the truth that Charlotte abandoned them; behaved selfish and irrational. A bitterness dwelled in her, and their rejection was her punishment. These thoughts denied her sleep and made her toss in the bed beside Caleb.

The walls were cold and dank, the same as they had been since she awoke to her new life. Aside from a few chaperoned trips to Windenberg, Charlotte spent all her time at home. Caleb would hunt when the temptation to feed became too much. Her blood had awoken his thirst, so reigning it in had proved difficult. It angered her; in their years together, Caleb still did not trust she could control her desires. Yet it was he who struggled to stop the urges. Lilith had escorted him home after he made a nuisance of himself in a quest for blood.

Lilith arranged a safe passage for Cornelius to attend daycare in Windenberg. At least he could enjoy a humanised existence until his twelfth birthday. Charlotte hated the quiet following his absence. These daylight hours were for sleeping when their power was weakest. Charlotte longed for the stories with Cornelius. The noise and energy his presence brought drowned her negative thoughts. Caleb and Auntie Lilith, bored of his tales from the nursery, his favourite about a frog. Hidden in another toddler’s lunchbox was a striped leaf frog; it had sat patient and silent. Ms Sole, the nursery teacher, screamed, climbing onto a chair as the frog leapt towards her desk. The children howled, clutching their sides, amused by the reaction. Cornelius wanted to take a frog in for show and tell, but letters sent to the parents ensured this could not happen.

Her engagement with Cornelius gave Caleb hope. He wanted to further their discussion of expanding the Vampire brood. Cornelius had been a happy accident, but he grew too fast for Caleb’s liking. Charlotte distanced herself from these conversations, knowing she could never love Cornelius. That was not quite the truth; on some level, there was love, but to Charlotte, it seemed insufficient. Her mother built a life around her children. It broke Emilie’s heart when Eliza vanished, and somehow she held the family together. Every day, Charlotte’s silent heart ached for the girls she abandoned. There were apologies and grief, and nothing more she could do.

Caleb’s desire for a family came from missing his sister and settling with his vampire bride. This stone building was an impermanence as his dreams stretched further. He planned to knock it down and build a mansion to rival Vlads. The future he saw for them involved many more vampire offspring. Lilith, despite their differences, was his sister, and Charlotte had two siblings. Another child would mean Cornelius would learn and train with them rather than be alone. There were few vampire families, and magic that enabled them to get pregnant was not an exact science. Their bodies were, in essence, dead. The baby, their developing heart, had to circulate the blood and extract the nutrients. It is why many reproduced with humans, and they would watch from afar. Caleb reminded Charlotte, his hand resting on her stomach; they were lucky.

Daciana: Fragmented World

Daciana perched on the bed. The mattress had through the years become worn and lumpy. It offered a strange degree of comfort as though used to moulding itself to a child’s form. She flicked through her homework book wishing to appear studious. The information remained on the page as her troubled thoughts refused to budge. Patrick had chicken sizzling on the barbecue, the sweet stick sauce should entice her. She saw how other children were around delicious foods, salivating and hungry. Leticia taught Luliana how to chop vegetables. Daciana smirked, knowing Luliana would eat half before dinner. Patrick hollered, calling her down, but she sat, unable to find the will to move. The stairs creaked. Daciana searched the bed for her pencil.

He perched beside her, surprised at the sudden desire to complete her homework. The girls seemed excited, eager to get into the woods, so why the change? Patrick wondered if not seeing a bear or encountering wolves disappointed her? Daciana shrugged, shuffling away from him. The boring option awaited her downstairs, bland food was the doctor’s orders. It made a difference but Daciana’s stomach lurched at the idea of food. She did not want to face another meal or those nutrition shakes.

Patrick moved closer wrapping an arm around her. Daciana’s shoulders twitched until freed. The reluctance to open up to him hurt. She had been closing herself off since they met Charlotte. Their mother insisted on wanting to be a part of their lives. Luliana made herself clear, Patrick and now Leticia were her parents. The younger sister believed she spoke for them both, and Daciana had yet to speak up about her feelings. The idea Daciana wanted to know Charlotte and Caleb gnawed at him. He wondered if she feared upsetting him, that he might reject her if she got too close.

Silence. Patrick sighed, asking her to at least join them for dinner. Daciana turned the page, pretending to focus on the equations. The tears stung her eyes. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Patrick was right. Except it was her parents she feared would reject her. The pencil flexed in her fingers as she held back tears. It snapped, and the crack jolted her; Daciana threw her head into the pillow burying into its musty smell. Why would no one explain why her parents chose to leave her and play happy families with a new baby. What was wrong with her? She hated Cornelius. She hated her parents. She resented her sister being happy as they were. The ability to eat food without intense pain. Daciana’s fists clench the pillow, suppressing her screams. She hated her life.

Patrick: Deeper into the Woods

Patrick arranged with the Ranger for the twins to attend a survival workshop. They would learn about insects, trees, plants, and fish discovered in the lake. Luliana hugged Daciana, ready to absorb the knowledge on offer. She wanted to be a part of the project. It was a chance to inspire the next generation to preserve this beautiful woodland. Daciana seemed unenthused by their fun-packed day, shrugging her sister away. With arms folded, Daciana remained quiet when asked what was wrong.

The moodiness had begun the previous night when Leticia offered to read to her. Daciana sat unresponsive as Leticia added flourishes to the story. Downstairs she could hear Patrick and Luliana washing up. Amongst the clanging of pots, Patrick splashed and threatened to tickle her. Luliana squealed and giggled, calling him ‘daddy’. A reminder of how perfect the younger twin believed their family was. Except it wasn’t. Leticia was a good woman, and Patrick lit up whenever she entered the room. For a moment, Daciana forgot the reality, embracing Leticia into their lives. Yet, the memory of Caleb cooing over Cornelius made her want to scream. All she and Luliana knew of their life was a lie. Daciana could no longer accept the world presented.

Leaving the girls behind, Leticia and Patrick headed deeper into the forest. Due to the lack of rainfall, the ground crunched and rustled beneath their feet. The chilled air made misty breath, and Leticia clung tighter to Patrick for warmth. In Luliana’s storybooks, Patrick wondered if there might be some truth. He had not seen anything on the map pin on the campsite board, and the Ranger gave him a vague answer. They trudged through the thicket, brambles clinging and snagging their clothes. A babbling brook tempted them, fish were easy to attract, and he knew they were close. He risked his hands, pulling back a cluster of brambles, revealing an archway. Branches, woven together, created a snicket into the darkened overgrowth. Leticia hesitated, shuddering at the thought of the spiders or biting insects. Patrick held her hand, keeping her close. His phone provided restricted light, as though the blackness were thick treacle. The brambles drooped behind, sealing them in.

At the far end, lights flickered, and a fresh autumn breeze filled their nostrils. Patrick braced himself for the stabbing pain as he cleared their path. Instead, these were vines, flowing over his jacket, inviting them into the sun. Luliana’s books did not prepare either for the sight. The breeze danced through the trees, bushes and flowers. Along with water; it sounded musical. Leticia believed she could hear singing. Things around them appeared clearer and sparkled. The stories claimed this was the fairies keeping this world alive. An area which broke away from the Magic Realm and hid from those looking to steal its secrets.

The woodland had given way to a clearing edged by jagged rocks on one side. Waterfalls carved their path into deep pools, a rippling glass into another world. A solitary house sat idling with planters and boxes filled with temptation. Leticia peered in through the window and queried through an open door. The home had a lived-in feel, centuries of solitude and memories of a bygone era. She backed away from the door, recalling other stories. People, lured in by the comforts of home, then baked in an oven at one hundred and fifty degrees. Their muscular flesh was seasoned and seared on all sides. Hunters discovered casserole dished with a mouth-watering stock, garlic and herbs. Fleshy temptation of the worst kind, all baked for six hours. The meat fell away from the bone of the person they had searched for, the realisation driving them mad.

Leticia hurried towards Patrick as he considered the unusual plants. She tugged at his jacket, her eyes darting across to the trees. He laughed off her concerns, deciding he should curb her television viewing to a PG level. Pocketing his cuttings, he agreed to return. The sun was setting, and the girls would be home with hundreds of stories to share.

Daciana: Fish of the Lake

Nothing said adventure like French Toast with lashings of maple syrup. Patrick threw on a few strips of bacon for good measure. The girls eyed their plates, waiting for everyone to sit. As they took that first bite, they hummed with delight. The crisp outer layer of the eggy bread followed by the sweet and salty hit. Patrick tapped his glass, drawing attention. When the holiday was over, Leticia would be moving in with them. The girl’s eyes turn from dad to her, the woman who was happy for them to call her mum. Leticia squealed, jumped up and knocked her orange juice. She did not stop, throwing her arms around Leticia. Daciana grinned, following her sister’s example with less chaos. Patrick felt somewhat left out, and with another bite, he joined them. His chest pressed to the back of Leticia’s chair, and with arms stretched wide, he embraced his girls.

Patrick had a magic vision of their holiday, a view shared by Leticia. To the outside world, they looked normal. Mum, Dad and their two curious daughters. The twins pointed, questioning and giggling as they strolled along the pine trails. The initial excitement of embracing Leticia into their family unit waned in Daciana. She hugged herself again the autumn breeze. In the days following Spooky Day, Daciana had grown quiet and distant. For Luliana, it appeared nothing had changed. She continue with life, calling Patrick “dad” and fantasising about him marrying Leticia. Daciana felt an increased sense of isolation. She saw how Caleb doted on Cornelius; he smiled as the giggling toddler played with his food. Charlotte seemed hesitant to make conversation. What she said lacked the interest and affection Leticia’s voice conveyed. Daciana wondered why the coldness which infused the air had begun growing within her. These thoughts weighed heavy on her mind as they approached the lake.

Daciana lifted her eyes skyward. There were rumours, fairy tales and legends of a great battle. A large chunk of land ripped away in a time when magic existed in their world. The rough surface of the cliff overlooking the lake stood as a testament to this story. Over the years, trees covered the rugged and desolate land. A place that once housed a thriving spellcaster community. Daciana rolled her eyes as Luliana swooned, drawn in by these stories. “Where water falls over the earth’s edge, a doorway will open and lead the seeker to a magical realm”. Daciana stuck a finger in her mouth, pretending to vomit. She hated the romanticised views, and her sister was full of them. Luliana ignored her, continuing to share the prophecy. “In the bygone era of the fae creatures, people believed a human and a fae would reunite the worlds”. It was this trope Daciana hated; she wanted to be old enough to watch movies about the war itself. Still, she had to admire Granite Falls; it held an eeriness, an odd silence which caught her by surprise. The uneven land and the tunnel carved into the jagged rocks to make the forest accessible. Her lips curled, shying away from a full smile; Daciana thought, there was truth in the stories.

Leticia and Luliana sat on the damp grass. They watched as Patrick demonstrated his limited fishing skills to Daciana. She held the grip firm, flinging it back and forth to find the rhythm. Patrick handed her the reel; it clipped to the rod with a satisfactory click-clack. Daciana gave a momentary grin. Patrick caught her, and it spurred him on. His enthusiasm was infectious; Leticia almost wished they had a spare rod. Their catch was small fry, not worth the effort and patience they were giving. Patrick wound the last of his catch, releasing the palm-sized fish back into the lake. Daciana squealed, her rod tugged hard. Patrick clasped the grip, knocking her aside as the reel spun. Daciana grabbed Patrick’s jacket, shouting as the fish wrestled against the line. The scales shimmered in the midday sun. Its tail flickered. Eight inches of determined fish hung on Daciana’s rod. Patrick hugged her, apologising for his rough manor. He would, of course, make it up to her by barbecuing the fish for her supper.