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@maffickingcowplants
I'm just having fun.
I am doing a narrative gameplay - to keep myself invested. This is where I log the story as it happens.
⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜
⁜ Gothique Legacy
Beginning Gen 0 - Mortimer Goth & Bella Bachelor Gen 1 - Cassandra Goth & Alijah Crain Gen 2 - TBD
⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜⁜
Family Tree
YEAR 2000: Digest.
Day 2 of 7, Spring 2008
The living room of Goth Manor, usually so quiet and imposing, has transformed into a cheerful chaos. Toys are scattered everywhere, tiny hands grabbing at blocks and plush animals, and there’s a constant hum of giggles and shouts as toddlers dart around, tripping over their own chubby feet. Cassandra, hosting her first toddler playdate, watches the scene with a mix of amusement and mild exhaustion. She stands with the other moms, chatting, sharing tips and half-hearted complaints about the whirlwind lives of toddlers, but there’s a tension in her, something that doesn't quite soften.
Mortimer, who’s been hovering at the edge of the room, senses it. He’s tried a few times to catch Cassandra’s eye, but her responses have been cool, polite. He knows why, but he’s hoping, foolishly maybe, that throwing himself into "grandpa duty" will start to thaw that chill.
Determined, he crouches down near Apricity, holding out a soft toy in one hand and making an exaggerated silly face that draws a delighted squeal. He manages to coax a few of the other toddlers to come closer, clapping along with them, even lifting one little one into the air with a soft chuckle. Occasionally, he steals a glance at Cassandra, hoping she notices, hoping it counts for something.
From her seat, Cassandra watches him, arms crossed but gaze softening ever so slightly. She’s surprised, a little thrown, by how hard he’s trying, his usual composed exterior replaced by an almost desperate eagerness to connect. One of the other moms nudges her, raising an eyebrow and making a teasing comment about how nice it must be to have extra hands on deck, but Cassandra just gives a tight smile.
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Day 1 of 7, Spring 2008
Spring has finally arrived, and with it, a sense of freedom. The weight of winter, and all the family drama that came with it, fades into the background as Phil and Gus sneak out into the night, laughter bubbling between them as they meet up with Ember, Demarcus, and a crowd of their classmates.
It’s a night for letting go: warm air, faint stars above, and the crackle of a bonfire lighting up the faces around it. Phil and Gus are both talking nonstop about their plans, voices full of excitement as they discuss apartments in the city, dreams of university, and escaping the shadows of Goth Manor. There's a new thrill in imagining their own lives, away from the weight of legacy and scandal.
As the fire roars higher, Gus grins, feeling daring, and gives fire dancing a try. Phil raises an eyebrow but watches with a smirk as her brother, surprisingly nimble, twirls a flaming stick, his movements cautious but growing bolder with each turn. Their friends cheer him on, and for once, it feels like everything isn’t about secrets or family. It’s just about being young, reckless, and alive.
Phil leans back with Ember, grinning as Gus pulls off a particularly ambitious spin, the flames lighting up his face. Tonight, under the spring sky, they are simply two teenagers making memories, leaving the weight of the Goth name behind them for the moment - and with time, forever.
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Day 4 of 7, Winter 2007
The atmosphere inside Goth Manor mirrors the storm raging outside — cold and tense. Despite the chill between Cassandra and her father, the warmth of motherhood keeps her focused. In what used to be her old room, now transformed into a cozy nursery, she gently pats the back of her baby daughter, Apricity, who’s growing quickly. A loud, triumphant belch breaks the silence, and Cassandra chuckles.
“There it is!” she smiles, her tone soft as she cradles her daughter close.
She walks toward her own bedroom, having heard the neighboring door close while she was helping Apricity "let it all out". As she steps inside, she sees Alijah emerging from the bathroom, still in his work uniform, his face lighting up at the sight of his family.
"Was that her burp I heard all the way in here?" Alijah grins, his voice filled with amusement.
Cassandra hands Apricity over to her father, her laugh light and relieved, the tension of the house temporarily forgotten. “You bet it was. That one’s going down in the record books.”
Alijah laughs and takes their daughter into his arms, playfully making a joke about how he might have some competition when it comes to impressive belching skills. They share a laugh, the kind that feels like a warm reprieve from the frost gathering in the corners of their lives.
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Cassandra heads down to the basement, still fuming, and finds Alijah running on the treadmill, sweat dripping from his brow. She doesn't even bother with pleasantries; the anger in her chest is boiling over.
"My dad had a kid with Nina Caliente," she blurts out, arms crossed, voice shaking with barely controlled frustration. Alijah slows his pace but keeps running, waiting for her to finish. "And Nina told the tabloids. It’s all over the news. Can you believe that?!”
Alijah nods slowly, wiping his face with the towel draped over the treadmill. He processes the news, taking a second to find the right words. He knows Cassandra too well by now — knows that if he says the wrong thing, it’ll just fuel the fire. After a deep breath, he slows his pace further, his tone calm, measured.
"You can't control what your father does, Cassie," he says. "And you definitely can't control what the tabloids write." He stops the treadmill completely, the hum of the machine fading into silence. He walks over to her, reaching out and places a hand on her arm, trying to ground her, his voice soft yet firm. "But… like it or not, this little girl is your half-sister. She exists. And at some point, you’re going to have to accept that."
Cassandra pulls away slightly, pacing the room, her voice rising again. “But what about Mom?! He’s still married! She could still be out there, and he’s just… doing this?!”
At the mention of Bella, something flickers across Alijah’s face — a brief, barely noticeable expression. Cassandra reads it as sadness, but deep down, it’s guilt, gnawing at him in ways he wishes he could push down.
“Cassie, I know it’s hard. I know it feels like betrayal. But whatever happens… between your parents… it’s not your burden to carry. We have our own family, our own life to focus on.” He pauses, his chest tightening with the weight of the truth he’s been keeping from her. “And your dad? He’ll have to face the consequences of his choices. But don’t let his mistakes tear you apart.”
Cassandra sighs, frustration still simmering but dampened by his words. She knows he’s right, but the ache of it all feels unbearable — her father’s infidelity, her mother’s absence, the growing cracks in the family she’s always thought was unshakable.
As they stand in the now quiet basement, Alijah wraps his arms around her, hoping the embrace will give him enough strength to keep the secret he’s held for too long. But deep down, he wonders just how much longer he can shield Cassandra from the truth about her mother… and what really happened to Bella Goth.
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Philomena, Augustine, Ember, and Demarcus arrive at Willow Creek park, the snow blanketing everything in a soft, cold glow. Phil has been carrying a secret, one she hasn't quite found the right moment to tell her brother Gus, but promised she would soon. Gus, however, knows something is up. He’s cryptic when he texts Demarcus: “Something's up, come to the WC park” but it works. In no time, the four of them are sitting at a picnic table, watching their breath float in the air like wisps of fog.
Ember, ever the one to cut through tension, leans forward and asks, “So… what’s up?”
Phil takes a deep breath, her words rushing out like she’s trying to get them out before she can rethink them. "Dad and Nina Caliente had a baby and I read about it in the tabloid! Turns out we have a half-sister: Catalina." The words hang in the air, almost freezing like the snow falling gently around them.
Ember’s eyes widen in shock, her voice incredulous. “What? No way! I’ve seen the photos of Bella, and… Nina? Seriously? She’s no Bella.”
Demarcus, who’s always been on the periphery of the Goth family drama, furrows his brow. "Did Mortimer even know about this?”
Gus, head in his hands, groans, “No, I don’t think so. If Dad had known, I’m pretty sure he would've told us. I mean, she’s a toddler now.” His voice trails off, and there’s a moment of shared discomfort. This revelation is a lot for all of them to process.
“Did you bring the magazine?” Ember asks, her voice still tinged with disbelief.
Phil shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Nope, I left it on the coffee table. Someone else will have to deal with that bombshell.”
Demarcus, always quick with a sharp comment, leans back and says, “That coffee table’s seen more drama than a Sim with three lovers in the same room.”
Gus groans again, but this time there’s a hint of laughter in it. “Oh man, wait until Cassandra sees it. She’s going to blow up. She’s been running the house ever since Dad gave her his room, acting like the new ‘woman’ of the manor.”
Phil nods emphatically. “Exactly. That’s why I noped right out of there. I was not sticking around for the fireworks. I just need to get out of that house. I swear, if I hear ‘Cassandra says’ one more time…” She trails off, shaking her head.
Demarcus smirks, “We should all move to the city for university.”
Gus and Ember’s eyes light up, and in unison, they exclaim, “Yes!”
Phil, still brooding a little over the chaos at home, nods along slowly. The idea of getting away, of starting fresh somewhere else, is tempting, even if she’s distracted by thoughts of what’s going on in the Goth household. But the laughter from her friends warms her a little, especially when Demarcus cracks another joke: “At this point, Mortimer’s life seems like a soap opera. I’m just waiting for the evil twin plot twist.”
"C'mon, lets go inside the greenhouse, it's cold out here," Phil says, standing up amid the other's laughter.
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Day 2 of 7, Winter 2007
The same edition of the Simlandia Enquirer arrives at the Goth Manor, delivered alongside the usual mundane stack of bills and flyers. Phil, always the first to grab the mail, pauses when she sees the glaring headline splashed across the tabloid: “Goth and Caliente Lovechild Revealed: Mortimer’s Secret Family Exposed!” Her stomach tightens as she skims the article. Everything about this is wrong, messy, explosive — the sort of thing that could tear apart the already delicate threads holding her family together.
"Nope," she mutters under her breath, setting the magazine down on the coffee table. She's not dealing with this. She pulls out her phone, quickly texting her girlfriend, Ember: "Something bad’s going down at home. Grabbing Gus and leaving for a bit. You wanna meet up?" Before even waiting for a reply, Phil heads upstairs, grabs her twin brother, and tells him they’re going out for the day. Gus, sensing the tension, doesn’t ask any questions — he just follows. As they slip out the front door, Phil knows things are about to get very loud at home, and she wants no part of it.
An hour later, Cassandra wakes from a much-needed nap. She heads downstairs, still drowsy, and spots the tabloid on the coffee table as she sits down. Nina Caliente’s face next to a dark-haired toddler, glares up at her. Her eyes narrow as she reads the headline, recognition settling in. She flips through the magazine, skimming the article and graphics. She knows Nina’s had a kid — she’s even seen Nina around, and honestly just assumed the child was from her marriage. But this article, though mostly sensationalized garbage, holds one very dangerous truth: the little girl, Catalina, is definitely a Goth. Cassandra doesn’t need a DNA test; she only has to look at the child’s eyes, her hair, her features… It’s like looking at her own baby pictures.
Mortimer passes by on his way to the kitchen, offering a distracted, “Hello, dear.” Cassandra, heart racing, finishes reading the article, her jaw tightening with every sentence. She storms into the kitchen after him, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Dad,” she says, voice already trembling with anger. Mortimer turns to her, a bit puzzled.
“What is it, Cassandra?” he asks, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Without a word, she throws the magazine at his feet. Nina Caliente’s face and that of her daughter’s, Catalina, stare up at him. He glances down, confusion flickering across his face, and then looks back up at Cassandra, who’s already seething.
“NINA CALIENTE?” Cassandra practically shouts. “How could you do this to us?!”
Mortimer’s face falls. He picks up the tabloid slowly, eyes darting over the headline, then the first few lines of the story. His face pales, the weight of his secret crashing down on him all at once.
“I… I didn’t know,” Mortimer stammers. “I didn’t know Catalina was mine.”
“You didn’t know?” Cassandra echoes, incredulity dripping from her voice. “You slept with Nina Caliente! And this article makes it look like this — this affair has been going on for years! It even suggests that this is why Mom disappeared! You’ve made us look like fools!”
Mortimer, shocked and defensive, shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that. I… It was only once, Cassandra. Only once! I never thought—” He pauses, fumbling with the magazine as he flips through the pages in dismay, reading the fabricated timelines and false claims. The need to sit down is strong, so he turns and leaves the kitchen and takes a seat in the hallway where he reads the article more closely, and notes the resemblance to himself in the toddler's photos.
Cassandra crosses her arms, the initial fury fading into something colder, steadier. She follows him into the hallway and sits next to him, “Once is enough," she starts - her voice tense, "we all know that. And now there’s this… child. And what about child support? Why hasn’t Nina come after you for money? What is that about, Dad? What else are you hiding?”
Mortimer, flustered, stammers out, “I don’t know. I don’t… I have no idea why she hasn’t come after me for anything.”
“No idea?” Cassandra shoots back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really have no clue about how any of this could’ve happened? How you put this family in the middle of a scandal that could ruin us? Or were you just so caught up in being a man that you forgot you have responsibilities?!”
Mortimer’s voice drops. “I’m not above failure, Cassandra. I… I’m human.”
Cassandra feels a fresh surge of anger, bitter and hot, rising in her chest. “Human?” she spits. “Maybe. But you sure as hell aren't acting like a father. Anyone else would have been better than Nina.” With a final sharp glance, she turns and walks away, leaving Mortimer sitting with the the magazine — his moral failures splashed across its glossy pages.
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Day 1 of 7, Winter 2007
At the Caliente house, Nina sits on the couch, the magazine open in her hands. The frown she wears isn’t one of regret, far from it, in fact. She knows exactly what she’s done. The media circus around her "affair" with Mortimer Goth has brought her what she’s always craved: attention, scandal, infamy. Nevermind that it was just the once, and nevermind that she hasn't heard from Mortimer since that day - the exact opposite is what she fed the tabloid reporter. She embellished her involvement with the Goth family, showing them pictures of her at birthdays and celebrations where she was only ever invited because her sister asked that she be. As she glances over at Catalina, her daughter, the child looks up at her with wide eyes, oblivious to the storm swirling outside their front door.
Next to her, Katrina Caliente isn’t as pleased. She’s already read the article, her expression etched with disappointment. She holds her head in her hands as she sighs, “Why, Nina? Why make things so… messy? This is technically your family you’re messing with. Bella’s brother is your sister’s husband — what will this do to us? Did you think of us at all??"
Nina's smirk widens, an air of defiance radiating from her as she gets up from the couch. “Messy?” She pauses, flicking through the pages with a glint in her eye. “It’s what I do best.” The divorce from Jaxon was inevitable — he wasn't what Nina thought he was, and wasn't the stepping stone she needed. As for Mortimer? Well, he had had his uses. This little firestorm was going to carry her forward, leaving behind anyone not bold enough to keep up.
Katrina tries again, exasperated, “And the money the magazine paid you, is it really worth all of this? The damage, Nina?”
Nina straightens her dress and looks down at her mother with a snide chuckle. “The bridges I burn will light my way.”
Katrina watches her daughter walk away, wondering how far that fire will spread… and just how much destruction it will leave in its wake.
Day 7 of 7, Fall 2007
The scent of citrus fills the air as Cassandra carefully prunes her lemon tree, humming quietly to herself. It’s been a peaceful morning in the Goth household, Timaeus giggling nearby with his toys, Phil baking cupcakes, Gus and Alijah working out, while Mortimer paints - the house is a little bit emptier with Alexander officially living in the Bay with Cecilia, but the warmth inside the home is no less depleted. When a sharp, familiar pang suddenly grips her, Cassandra drops her shears. It’s time. She feels it unmistakably— the baby is coming.
Quickly, she finds Alijah inside, her voice calm but urgent. “It’s happening. I want to go to the hospital this time.” Without wasting a moment, they leave Timaeus in Mortimer’s capable hands and rush to the hospital. Alijah phones ahead, only for them to be greeted by someone she wasn’t expecting—their doctor for the night: Count Vladislaus Straud, a vampire. He appears before them not in his human guise, but in his dark form, fangs visible and eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
Cassandra freezes for a moment. She’s read about Occults, learned about their existence in school, but nothing had quite prepared her for meeting one like this, face to face. The night feels colder, more eerie, as he steps forward, his cape billowing behind him. But, with a reassuring glance from Alijah, she steadies herself. This is who she will have to trust tonight.
Doctor Straud, despite his appearance, is nothing short of professional. He guides Cassandra inside, past a ghostly receptionist that only deepens the surreal nature of the night, and into the delivery room. Alijah, left to pace in the waiting area, can only sit in anxious anticipation. Hours later, he finally meets their newest family member — Apricity Goth.
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Day 6 of 7, Fall 2007
The Goth house feels smaller every day, especially with Timaeus toddling about and Cassandra’s second baby on the way. For Alexander, the decision has been brewing for a while now. He’s been spending more nights at Cecilia’s parents' place, slowly drifting away from the chaotic comfort of his family home. Today, though, it's time. Time to start the next chapter of his life with Cecilia before the wedding.
They find it in the classifieds — a quaint beach house, just a single bedroom, close to her parents. It’s modest, but as they stand in the small kitchen unpacking their boxes, it feels perfect. The sunlight pours through the windows, the sound of waves crashing just outside. While she’s organizing the cabinets, Alexander pulls her close, surprising Cecilia with a kiss that says more than words ever could. She returns the kiss eagerly, but when they part, there's a pause.
Cecilia pulls back, her eyes warm but serious. "You’re not trying to follow in your sister’s footsteps already, are you?" Her tone is light, teasing, but there’s a firmness beneath it.
Alexander lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “No way. I love my nephew, and I’m sure I’ll love the next one, but I’m not in any rush to start a family.”
Cecilia softens, nodding. “Good. I’ve still got school, and… I just want us to have time. Time to be us. We can think about all that much later.”
He wraps an arm around her waist, resting his forehead against hers. “We’ll wait as long as you want. I’m right there with you — no rush. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us.”
They continue unpacking, their future stretched out before them, one box at a time.
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Day 5 of 7, Fall 2007
Mortimer steps out of his study, the door creaking slightly as it swings shut behind him. His brow is furrowed, distracted, the same way he looks whenever he spends too long in there. He says he’s working on his latest book, but Cassandra knows better. She sees the way his fingers twitch like they’re still scrolling through those forums, reading the endless threads about Bella, about StrangerVille. She knows he’s looking for answers - just not the kind that come from fiction.
“Dad,” Cassandra says softly, catching his attention as he wanders past. He pauses, half-turned, still lost in thought. "There's something I need to tell you."
“Hmm?” Mortimer glances at her but his mind is elsewhere, still tangled in theories and cryptic forum posts. "Yes, of course, sweetheart. What is it?"
She steps closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Dad. I’m pregnant.”
It takes a moment. At first, his eyes glaze over the words, not quite sinking in. Cassandra can see him processing, the gears slowly turning. Then, as the weight of her announcement settles, his expression begins to shift. The furrowed brow relaxes, his face softening, and the weariness that clings to him every time he emerges from the study seems to lift, even if just a little.
“Another baby?” he repeats, his voice hushed. His gaze finally meets hers, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, there’s light in his eyes. "Another grandchild?"
She nods, smiling, and the joy spreads. For a moment, the missing posters, the endless search for Bella, the strange things Mortimer reads about StrangerVille — all of it falls away.
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Day 4 of 7, Fall 2007
Timaeus’ first birthday is a quiet but warm affair, just family and a few close friends gathered to celebrate the little one who has brought so much joy into their lives. Cecilia cradles Timaeus in her arms, her future sister-in-law cooing softly at him. Cassandra leans in, brushing her nose against his, making him giggle with delight. His tiny hands reach for her, eyes bright with the energy of the day, soaking in all the attention.
Inside the house, Mortimer is striking a goofy pose for the camera, a rare sight these days. A close family friend is capturing the moment, laughing as Mortimer hams it up for the shot. For a man so often serious, it’s clear that today he’s let down his guard — his grandson’s joy infectious, lightening the air in a way that feels rare but welcome.
When it’s time for the cake, everyone gathers in the dining room. Cassandra gently holds Timaeus in her arms, guiding his tiny face toward the candles on the cake set upon the side table. The room falls into an expectant hush, everyone watching as his lips blow out the flickering flames with the softest of puffs.
Cheers erupt, and Cassandra’s eyes fill with happy tears. It’s a milestone for her little boy, for the family.
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Day 3 of 7, Fall 2007
Cassandra and Alijah slip out the front door, the sound of Timaeus's giggles fading as they leave the baby in Grandpa Mortimer’s capable hands. It’s been a while since the two of them had time alone together, and the weight of parenthood has settled into the fabric of their lives — lovingly, but heavily. Tonight, though, is different.
They stroll hand-in-hand under the evening sky, the stars beginning to twinkle as they make their way to a quiet patio restaurant. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of lavender from the nearby gardens. Over dinner, they laugh and talk about everything but diapers. Alijah recounts a particularly odd encounter he had at work, making Cassandra snort into her drink. It's a relief, this lightness, a reminder that they are more than just parents now.
Later, the night stretches before them as they arrive at a nearby spa. The dim lighting and soft music invite them into a world of calm. Lying side by side they settle into a couple’s massage. As the tension melts from their bodies, Cassandra turns her head slightly, catching Alijah’s gaze.
“We should do this more often,” she whispers with a soft smile, her eyes heavy-lidded from relaxation.
Alijah winces under the hands of his masseurs, but nodding in agreement.
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Cecilia Amore finally arrives, her smile bright as she steps onto the campus, searching the sea of caps and gowns for Alexander. He spots her before she finds him, his heart skipping a beat. Without hesitation, Alexander moves toward her, taking her hand as he gently pulls her a few feet away from where his family is gathered.
They make their way up onto one of the stone bridges that arches over the small creek running through the Britechester campus, the murmur of the crowd fading as they find a brief moment alone. The sunlight catches on the water below, making the air shimmer with quiet anticipation.
Alexander pauses, his hand slipping into his pocket as he turns to face her. He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything he’s about to say, and then, in one fluid motion, he drops down onto one knee.
“Cecilia,” he begins, his voice steady but full of emotion, “we’ve been through so much together, and I can’t imagine my future without you by my side. Will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, there’s stunned silence. Then Cecilia gasps, eyes wide with surprise and joy. “Yes! Yes!” she exclaims before she practically drops onto Alexander’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with such passion it makes the world around them disappear.
Behind them, the Goth family erupts into cheers and happy tears. Mortimer stands slightly apart, a slow smile creeping across his face, his eyes shining with approval. He turns to Cassandra, who is beaming, and asks, “Did you know about this?”
Cassandra laughs softly, wiping at her eyes. “Of course I did, Dad. How could I not? He was nervous about the ring for weeks!”
The family gathers closer as Alexander and Cecilia pull themselves back to their feet, still glowing with the warmth of the moment.
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Day 7 of 7, Summer 2007.
Alexander stands proudly in his Britechester graduation robe, the fabric heavy with the weight of accomplishment. His family gathers close around him — Cassandra with a warm smile, Philomena bouncing on her feet with excitement, and Gus fidgeting, his attention darting between his older brother and the bustling campus around them. Mortimer stands tall, his hand resting on Alexander’s shoulder, a quiet, proud fatherly presence in the midst of the joyful chaos.
The sun filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the courtyard, where students in their robes mill about with laughter and anticipation. But Alexander’s mind isn’t entirely on the celebration at hand. Absentmindedly, he reaches into his pocket, fingers brushing the small box that sits there—the engagement ring he had carefully chosen for Cecilia. The cool metal gives him a sense of calm amidst the excitement, grounding him.
He exhales slowly, eyes scanning the crowd for her familiar face. She hasn’t arrived yet, and though he tries to stay composed, there’s an undeniable flutter of nerves beneath his calm exterior.
Cassandra leans in, sensing his distraction. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” she teases lightly, nudging him with her elbow.
Alexander chuckles, glancing at her. “Always,” he admits with a grin, though there’s a flicker of tension in his eyes. What if something’s delayed her? He shakes the thought away. Cecilia has never missed a moment of importance to him. And today — his graduation — isn’t just about the degree; it’s about their future.
Philomena bounces up beside him, giving him a playful nudge. "Relax, she's probably just parking."
Gus, ever the joker, chimes in, "Or getting cold feet."
Alexander rolls his eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. As he waits for her arrival, surrounded by the people who matter most, he knows one thing for sure — today marks the beginning of a new chapter in more ways than one.
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Late at night, Mortimer stands alone in the dimly lit kitchen, the strange fruit from StrangerVille resting on the counter. It seems to pulse faintly under the moonlight streaming through the window. He can’t stop thinking about the bizarre events of the night, about the plant, about the shuffling people, and how strangely familiar it all felt.
As he turns the fruit over in his hands, he hears footsteps approaching from upstairs. Cassandra, up late submitting resumes to job postings, steps into the room. “Dad?” she says, noticing him standing there. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Just… thinking,” Mortimer replies, his voice distant. He places the fruit back on the counter.
But then Cassandra's gaze fixes on the fruit, and her face goes pale. “Dad… where did you get that?” she asks, her voice suddenly sharp.
Mortimer frowns, confused by the panic in her tone. “Why? It’s just something I found in StrangerVille—”
Before he can finish, Cassandra steps forward quickly, her eyes wide. “That fruit… it’s dangerous. You have to get rid of it. Now.”
“What? Why? How do you know that?” Mortimer looks at her, his brow furrowed in concern. “Cassandra, what’s going on?”
She hesitates, wringing her hands. Then, with a deep breath, she says, “Remember how I was acting strange last year? The grinning, the… weird movements?” Mortimer nods slowly, recalling the unnerving stiffness in her limbs, the distant look in her eyes. “It was because of that,” she continues, pointing at the fruit. “I ate one. I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was just an apple, but…”
Mortimer's eyes widen as a flash of recognition hits him — the woman in StrangerVille, her stiff limbs, the vacant expression, the strange phrase she muttered. “Was your mother involved in this?”
Cassandra’s breath catches. Her father’s question lingers heavily between them. She has no choice. The truth has been gnawing at her for so long. “Yes,” she admits, her voice a whisper.
She steps closer, her words tumbling out, unable to hold them back any longer. “Mom brought the fruit home. She told me to meet her in StrangerVille after I… after I ate it. I was… not myself. I dreamed of places — alien places — with strange plants, just like the ones you saw. I lost time, Dad. Hours at a time. I don’t remember most of it, I don't even know how I managed to graduate.”
Mortimer is silent, reeling from the revelation. His wife, his missing Bella, was somehow involved in all of this. "But you got better," he finally says, searching her face for answers.
“I did,” Cassandra nods. “Mom… vaccinated me. She took me to this building in StrangerVille with high security. I don’t know how she had access, but inside, she gave me something. A vaccine. It snapped me out of it, and I was… myself again.”
Mortimer can’t find the words to respond. His mind is spinning with all this new information, with the realization that Bella might have been mixed up in something far bigger than he ever imagined. And then there’s this fruit…
With a dazed expression, he excuses himself, saying little more than, “I need to think,” before retreating upstairs, leaving Cassandra alone with the fruit.
She knows what she has to do. Without hesitation, she picks up the fruit and carries it to the fireplace. Watching the flames consume it, she can’t help but feel a sense of dread lifting, even as the embers crackle and hiss. Whatever strange ties it had to her — whatever had been controlling her — it’s gone now. But what about Bella? Where is she?
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Day 5 of 7, Summer 2007
Mortimer knows he’ll never find peace — at least not until he finds Bella. It’s been over a year since her disappearance, and in all his searching, there’s only one place left that holds any clues: StrangerVille.
Under the midnight sky, with stars glinting cold and distant — stars he knows he’s traveled to — Mortimer walks the quiet streets of StrangerVille. He’s been here before, though not for long. There’s a memory in the back of his mind, something that tugs at him, but he can’t place it. StrangerVille is eerie in its stillness. The desert that surrounds the town, usually harsh and unforgiving in daylight, now feels serene and beautiful under the stars. But something about the town itself feels… wrong.
As he rounds a corner, Mortimer catches sight of something that makes his heart skip a beat — a plant, strange and pulsating with an eerie blue light. Its tendrils wave in the still air as if moving of their own volition. Mortimer stops in his tracks, staring at the bizarre vegetation. Then he notices — there are more of them. They’re everywhere, scattered along the roadsides, growing near buildings. How did he not notice them before?
Drawn by a mix of curiosity and dread, Mortimer approaches one of the plants. His hand hovers over its tendrils before he finally touches it, and the plant reacts instantly. A mist of blue spores shoots out, swirling into the air, followed by a burst of green spores. Mortimer jumps back, watching in awe as the tendrils shoot upward, revealing something… strange. A fruit, glowing faintly.
He circles the plant, inspecting it carefully before he reaches out to pluck the fruit. As soon as the fruit is in his hand, the plant returns to its earlier state, as if nothing had happened. Mortimer stares at the odd object in his palm, feeling its strange weight, unsure of what to make of it. Before he can decide what to do next, a sound behind him snaps him out of his thoughts.
Two figures shuffle toward him, their movements stiff and unnatural. Their eyes are vacant, and they walk with a jerky, unsettling gait. One of them — a woman with a fixed, rictus grin — catches his attention. She stumbles closer to him, and Mortimer tries to speak, but before he can, her head snaps back suddenly, like a puppet yanked on a string.
“Look at the sky — it welcomes us all,” she says, her voice distant and hollow.
Mortimer’s gaze instinctively follows hers to the starry sky above. When he looks back down, the woman is already moving away, her stiff limbs carrying her further into the night.
Unnerved, Mortimer quickens his pace, heading back the way he came. His pulse is racing, the strange fruit forgotten in his pocket. Whatever answers StrangerVille holds, he isn’t sure he’s ready to find them.
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