Doctor Who: Fan Series - Hearts-Sick - Episode Ten - "Haunted"

Doctor Who: Fan Series - Hearts-Sick - Episode Nine - "Hallway Horror"

ACT's Moonlighting: A Night of Magical Theatre!

Ashland Contemporary Theatre opened their annual Moonlighting Series this last weekend with this year's rendition, Moonlighting 2017: Go Rogue.  Go Rogue features short plays from the Rogue Playwright's Circle, three of which are fully produced and three of which are staged readings.  The playwrights of such plays are Mark Saunders of "Playthings", Cynthia Rogan of "Give", Jeannine Grizzard of "Emmeline Pankhurst", Bob Valine of "The Other Side", David Copelin's "Quite Contrary", and Molly Tinsley of "It Is What It Is."

The short plays are directed by Cat Gould, Jeannine Grizzard, Michael Meyer, and Peggy Rubin and have an ensemble cast with ACT alumni, Karen Douglas, Cat Gould, Jeannine Grizzard, Michael Meyer, Mabrie Ormes, and Judith Rosen, with ACT fresh faces, Alex Bringer, Nicholas Madtson,  Russell Mitchell, and Elizabeth Suzanne.  The show also features narration by Lia Rose Dugal, also an ACT alumni.

The show starts with the adorable "Playthings".  Nicholas Madtson gives a spot on performance of GI Joe and binds the show and the other characters helping to sustain the strength of the story.  Alex Bringer sparkles on stage as Babs while Mabrie Ormes warms our hearts as the lovable Teddy.

Give is the next story to unfold with a thought-provoking and motivational story.  The cast, Alex Bringer, Karen Douglas, Cat Gould, and Elizabeth Suzanne, each give strong, passionate, and honest performances which heightens the interest in the story and characters.   Elizabeth reveals an honest and heart-wrenching performance and Karen brings an air of the comedic honesty to this raw story. It is Cat who shines with a riveting performance, the connecting force that guides the other characters through the story.

Jeannine Grizzard's "Emmeline Pankhurst" is a powerful message of eternal perseverance in fighting for one's cause.  Grizzard gives a truthful solo performance and shines beautifully under the stage lights.    It is clear that she cares deeply for the character as well as the message.

Bob Valine's "The Other Side" is brought to life beautifully by the excellent talents of both Jeannine Grizzard and Elizabeth Suzanne.  Jeannine brings a sense of comedy to the story which helps Elizabeth's character learn to trust again.  Elizabeth moves the house to tears with her honest portrayal of her character, which may be to date this actress's best Rogue Valley performance.  She is both truthful, brave, and real, which helps the powerful message of love everlasting become more tangible for the viewers.

Next up is David Copelin's "Quite Contrary".  ACT newcomers Russell Mitchell and Nicholas Madtson play off each other well with honest comedy and both appear to truly understand their characters.  Its Judith Rosen and Michael Meyer who carry the story forward through their exchange ranging from comedic repartee to pathos.  The show ends with a beautiful prayer sung over the audience.

The last show is Molly Tinsley's "It Is What It is" starring Karen Douglas and Mabrie Ormes. Once again, Karen Douglas gives a heart-felt, truthful, and sometimes comedic performance but this time its Mabrie who shines in her role.  Mabrie's work is both surprising in its moving simplicity and a touching performance, which is one of the finest of Ormes roles to date.

Moonlighting has one final weekend.  Friday at 3 pm at Grizzly Peak Winery in Ashland, followed by a Saturday evening show at 8 pm at the Ashland Community Center, and a closing matinee Sunday at 2 pm at the community center as well.

https://www.facebook.com/AshlandContemporaryTheatre/

https://www.facebook.com/events/294826771012240/

Doctor Who Fan Film Hearts-Sick Season One Episode Eight

Housesitter

After the discarding the groceries at the house, they drove up the winding coastal road into the depths of the forest. After driving a bit, they pulled into a smaller road which led onto an empty space overlooking the city, shoreline, and vastness of the ocean. She parked her car and they both tumbled out. He led her up a slight hill until they came to a slightly wooden area with small rocky crags, a place off the beaten path from tourist prying eyes. He sat on one of the crags overlooking the vast ocean blue and turned to her, his smile half-cocked expressing an invitation for her to join him. She climbed up and sat on a crag beside him, turning outwards to the ocean she breathed it as much as possible. Then, slowly exhaled.

“It is...,” was all she could say.

“Amazing,” Jesse finished her sentence. She nodded and turned to him, smiling, suddenly completely happy and she felt even a sense of peace slowly emerging and traveling through her. It was a feeling so long unknown to her, she couldn't at first trace or define it, but the word “peace” was all she could finally name it. “I love coming here, its the only place I really feel at home.”

“You grow up here?” Rachel wanted to know.

“Not so much,” Jesse sighed. “I live with my aunt. My parents are...no longer living.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Rachel said, turning and facing the ocean. She felt the truthfulness of this conversation becoming all too real and authentic against her imaginary cover story.

“Its okay, it happened when I was just a little kid, like 5, car accident, barely remember them,” Jesse mumbled to himself.

“So, your aunt?” Rachel asked not turning to him, but trying to keep the conversation off of herself as long as possible.

“Yeah, she took me in, the only living relative that would,” he explained. “She's nice and all and did her best, but she's got a...a...sorta...reputation, is all.”

“Oh,” Rachel said in response and let the word reputation lose itself in the air as it wrapped itself repeatedly in her mind, forming mental pictures that spun from long ago tucked away memories never to be forgotten. 'Reputation, reputation,' they breathed toiling through her brain.

“You okay?” Jesse was calling to her and she turned slowly, full of effort, towards him. He was rolling a joint. “You kind of disappeared there for a minute,” he went on. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I was thinking...I'm just tired, is all,” she brokenly explained, trying to recoil into her chosen path of hiding.

“You don't mind if I partake, do you?” He asked motioning towards the joint. “You want some?”

“Please,” she nodded.

 He lit the joint and took a drag, passing it to her. She took it, pressed it between her lips, and inhaled, feeling the familiar warm pull of the smoke touch her throat and lungs. She sipped it like honey into her aching soul. Then, she handed it back to him. His hand touched hers gently as he took it from her and she felt an electric pulse run throughout her veins and shoot into her heart.  

Just A Kiss

House-Sitter

Rachel Moore maneuvered her car out of its hiding place and started up the road towards town. No need to hide the car away now that she, herself, had been discovered. She wondered what ramifications would come about from staying, now that she had indeed decided to stay, well at least for awhile. A part of her wanted to see where and how this would play itself out. She rubbed her forehead lost in her own imaginings and felt a pang of heartache overwhelm her. She shook it off

A few minutes later, she pulled into the small seaside town and located the local grocery store. She parked her red ford in the parking lot and got out. Leaning on a wall near the post office nearby, she saw a young man with a dark appearance matching hers. His gaze met hers as she passed by into the store. As she made her way through the aisles, she found it difficult to focus on what she needed, the budget she need to keep in order to maximize the full 500, now 450 dollars she had acquired from this “gig” because her thoughts kept straying to this mysterious man at the post office. She laughed to herself at that description. Maybe, she thought, it had been too long since she'd had a fling, a little temporary distracting romance, as it were, but still to this day, serious love affairs were a frightening concept, both in theory and practice.

Lost in thought, she turned out of the aisle she was in and was about to turn into the cereal aisle when she was shocked out of her revelry by a loud “Hi there.” Looking up, there he was, the mysterious post office man, or rather the man she had seen at the post office a few minutes before.

“Um, yeah, hi,” was her response. He had shaggy black hair and piercing green eyes, a slight yet attractive build. It was the green eyes that drew her in and made her heart flutter.

“I'm Jesse,” he introduced himself. His voice was moderately low, a soft tenor-like quality, slightly soft-spoken as if apart of him was afraid to speak or had forgotten the power of words.

“Um, I'm Rebecca, you can call me Becca,” she smiled nervously at him, then bit her lip in anticipation.

“You aren't from around here, are you?” was his response.

“Um, no, does it show?” came her witty comeback.

“Well, for starters, you are talking to me,” he explained.

“Is there a problem with you?” she wanted to know, unknowingly pulling the cart closer to herself, as if preparing herself to fire it into him if he should try anything here and now in a grocery store cereal aisle entrance.

“Well, some folks around here think I'm kind of weird,” he let her know. She shook her head and laughed aloud, maybe too loud. A few other store patrons eyed her suspiciously as she walked by. He winced and looked her over, almost frightened, like a little baby bird. “What's wrong?”

“Weird! Is that it?” she asked, still laughing hard.

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” was his timid response.

“I'm a fond of weird, used to it in small towns,” she started to explain.

“How used to it?” he blurted out before she had a chance to detract.

“Um, where I'm from, I'm kind of an oddity,” she said. Why did she tell him this, why did she feel so comfortable sharing herself with him, too much, so comfortable here, in this random place?

“Where you from?” he asked insistingly.

“Um, back east,” she looked him over, searching for a way to change the subject. “I'm, uh, house-sitting at the Jones' place, you want to hang out sometime? You should come over.”

“Seriously?” he seemed way too taken aback by her request.

“Yeah, sure,” she thought lustfully. “Maybe this evening.”

“Um, yeah, what time?”

“6:00 pm, no, wait, I got that thing at the neighbor's house, its gonna be a drag, uh, real interesting, you should come with me,” she finally stumbled through.

“No, I don't think I should,” he stated matter of factually.

“Why not?” she cocked her head to the side.

“Folks don't really like me all that much, is all,” he replied.

“Because you are weird,” she concluded. “Well, so am I. Let's go be weird together.”

He smiled at her, broadly and warmly. Then, he nodded in enthusiastic agreement. She smiled back, she liked this sweet awkward guy.

“Come over around 5?” she asked. He nodded. “I should finish the shopping, okay?”

He turned to let her pass and then stopped. Turning back to her, he asked, “And then what?”

“Excuse me?” she said confusedly.

“What are you doing after the shopping?” he asked invitingly.

“Um, not sure, take the food home, I guess,” she responded automatically.

“Home?” he asked, catching her use of that word. It struck her as odd as well.

“Um, well, back to the house, um, why?”

“You want to hang out? I could show you around a bit until the thing at the neighbor's,” he said

tentatively.

She thought a minute and realized she had nothing else to do that afternoon. She nodded and smiled brightly.

“Yeah, sounds great,” she began. “Just wait for me outside at my car, its the red ford.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said and she recalled their earlier encounter.

  “I'll just have to drop off the food and then we'll go wherever you want,” she informed him and he nodded, walking off with a new found spring in his step.

Somewhere Only We Know

House-Sitter

She awoke to the sun streaming brightly through the large ocean-front windows. Her eyes blinked in the morning light as she slowly rose to a sitting position. The silk bathrobe was discarded on the floor, she was naked under the sheets. She pushed the sheets off of her, picking the bathrobe off the floor and tying it out about her.

“Coffee,” was her one thought. “Must get coffee.”

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. Her red hair stuck out at odd angles from falling asleep with it still damp, matted in places was it, and her eyes were puffy from crying. The meeting of Jay the night before had spiraled her backwards into a haunting memory, of allowing herself to get close in order to be left wounded. Fear had gripped her and the tears fell in reckless abandon. She turned away from the mirror and made her way to the kitchen downstairs.

The coffee pot was gurgling away as she rummaged through the kitchen for some kind of breakfast. She found eggs, enough for a scramble, and a banana that was quickly on its way to brown and had to be eaten right then and there.

She turned on the stove, cracked the eggs into the pan, and watched as the yokes sizzled in the heat, a feeling she was all too aware of. She pushed it from her eye. The coffee pot rung its alarm, signifying its finishing its job. She moved over towards the pot hurriedly, found a mug in the dishwasher, and poured herself a cup. She took it black, as from so many travels she had been accustomed to, taking whatever she could find. This was the first time she'd ever had such a luxurious surroundings and opportunity.

She sipped the coffee and turned back to her eggs. With a fork, she scrambled them, adding butter and milk she had found in the fridge. Once they were scrambled to her liking, she ate them hungrily, straight from the pan. Then, devoured the overly sweet browning banana and tossed it into the garbage beneath the sink.

She walked into the TV room and sat slowly, dejectedly upon the sofa. She did not turn the TV on, resisted that impulse to numb herself with that distraction. She had to think and think fast. No doubt, Jay had already told his parents about his meeting her and they would soon want to investigate it further. That means, she must start the preparations to leave before she was caught, the cops called, or whatever might happen. A few cities back that had actually happened. She was squatting, or doing her usual uninvited house-sitting as she called it, at a small cottage when she had been discovered and was informed by a neighbor the cops were on their way. She'd left hurriedly, with barely any time to pack, leaving something she could never replace, something of intrinsic value behind. Her heart still ached over that loss, another among many.

A gentle rap at the front door broke her revelry. She looked down and wished herself clothed more than she was. The rap came again, it wasn't an angry knock but a simple greeting, a reaching out to her. She cautiously made her way down the front entrance way hallway to the front door. Slowly she turned the knob and poked just her head out the door. A woman, in her mid thirties perhaps, stood on the front porch, smiling at her.

“Becca?” the woman said. “Good morning. I'm Jay's mom, Judy.”

“Oh, um, hi, I was...,” came Rachel's faltering reply.

“Just waking up, sorry to wake you,” Judy smiled at her and Rachel felt confused at this warmth. “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood and see who the Jones' had hired. Do you house-sit much?”

“Oh, I, yeah,” was all Rachel could reply.

“Oh, then we should get to know each other,” Judy continued not noticing Rachel's awkwardness. “I'm always looking for reliable sitters, how much do you charge?”

“Um,” Rachel searched her mind for some amount but came up with a blank. Hurriedly, she spat out nervously, “Its negotiable.”

“Oh, nice,” Judy smiled at her again. “Well, we are having a little community get together at our house, its just right across the way, you are welcome to come.”

She pointed at the two story yellow house directly below and in front of the Jones' house.

“Maybe we'll see you there?” Judy was asking and Rachel's mind was spinning from this invitation.

“What?” Rachel wondered aloud, biting her lip to hide its tremor.

“Maybe you can come to our get-together, 6:00 pm?” Judy repeated herself.

“Um, yeah, great, that'd be fun, thanks,” and Judy smiled at her, said a warm “see you then,” and departed back down the steps. Rachel watched her go, then closed the door behind her, and leaned up against it with a heavy sigh. She couldn't believe what had transpired and she knew that she shouldn't stay any longer in this place, but something deep within felt as if she should stay, had to stay longer.

'Oh well,' she thought. 'Maybe this will be the greatest adventure of yet. Like an actress, I could slip even further into the life of Becca Jacobs.'

 She moved herself up to the master bedroom and into the bathroom. Washing her face, she started planning the sound-proof backstory that would suffice for the life of Becca Jones.  

She Will Be Loved

House-Sitter

Rachel, aka Becca Jacobs, woke up with a start. The room had grown dark, evening had descended upon the house. The TV was droning on in the background of her mind, the lights from a news show flickered on the walls of the dark room, on Rachel's face giving her an allure of pretense. She reached for the track flip phone she traveled one, this one was fairly new, she had gotten it at the last city when she realized it was time for the change. She changed her phone number with an increasing frequency so as to not be traced so easily. She glanced at the large digits and read the time 4:54 pm.

It took a moment for her to reorient herself, to remind herself of her surroundings, how she had gotten to where she was. She had passed out after finding a bottle of red wine in the pantry unopened and together with cheese and crackers, she had drank down the whole thing whilst channel surfing until finding a cheesy movie. The cheesy movie had now been transformed into Anderson Cooper relaying to her the world's events. She shook herself remembering the dream she had had, the voice of Anderson had drifted into her unconscious in his broadcast voice detailing her life up to that point.

“Rachel Anne Moore, 32, originally from Connecticut, has been on the run from her past for 12 years now, has had several aliases and existences in her travels,” came the flashback of Anderson's dream-like presence. She shook it out of her consciousness, glanced over at the red wine bottle, with only a few swallows left. What had woken her up?

Oh yes, she remembered hearing footsteps. At first she had thought they were part of her unconscious flickering but the footsteps had continued and now she thought she heard a key in the front door. Yes, the door knob began to turn, she caught her breath, was this it? Had she finally been caught or was she about to? Her mind raced as the door clicked open, the footsteps entered the house, soft small footsteps, and she sucked in her breath, holding it trying to steady her racing heartbeat.

Then, all at once, the footsteps entered the room and a young boy came into view. He squinted through the semi-darkness. She flipped off the TV just as he reached for a switch. The light that filled the room was now bright and revealing. The blanket that covered her bare legs was security, she pulled the silk bathrobe closer about her and suddenly felt self conscious that she was even wearing it. But, wearing the owner's clothing was the least of her concerns. However, chances were this young boy wouldn't recognize the lingerie of the women of the house.

“Um, hi,” the boy finally said after he had recovered from the shock of finding her.

“Hey,” she replied, trying to sound cool, collected, as if she belonged there yet her voice cracked.

“You staying at the Jones' or something?” the boy wanted to know. It was important for her to realize that he wasn't threatened or showed any real concern, this seemed somehow reasonable to him. A strange tipsy girl with wild red hair wearing nothing but a silk bathrobe and a blanket sitting in his neighbor's living room was for reasons unknown to her seemingly not an oddity to him.

“Um, yeah,” she finally recovered her presence of mind. “I'm the, uh, house-sitter.”

“Oh,” he responded and then took a moment to register that. “But, they told me to water the plants?”

“Yeah?” was all she could respond.

“Yeah, and I have Milo,” he was explaining. Milo, she thought, must be the dog.

“Well, um,” she began. “It was a last minute hiring, I guess they were really worried about security, you never know who will break in, um, to your house, right?”

“I guess so,” the boy said sadly. “Should I bring Milo back?”

Rachel's heart melted with sympathy. She shook her head encouragingly.

“Sorry they didn't tell you, guess they were too busy getting ready for the trip or whatever,” she said warmly. “You keep Milo and look after him, but I'll, um, water the plants. And, uh, I'll give you some of the cash they left me, okay?”

The boy brightened with a big smile. “That's awesome, thanks,” he replied. “Hey, what's your name?” he added questioningly.

“Go...Ra..Becca,” she stumbled out.

“Wait, what?” the boy was confused.

“Sorry, I just woke up,” she explained poorly. “I'm Becca. You?”

“Jay,” the boy answered her. “Nice to meet you, Becca.”

“You too, kid.”

“So, I, uh, should be getting home,” Jay began. He waited for her to respond and it slowly dawned on Rachel's worn out yet racing mind that he was waiting for the cash.

“Oh yeah, um, hold on,” She said quickly, standing and hurriedly, awkwardly wrapping the blanket around her legs. She walked like a Japanese women in a kimono out of the room, modestly.

The cash was in her purse on the kitchen counter where she'd discarded it earlier that day upon her arrival. She opened her wallet and flipped through the 500 dollars, finally resolutely pulling out 50 dollars for Jay. That should keep him satisfied, right?

She turned to return to the TV room to find Jay in the entry way. She gasped.

“You okay?” he wondered.

“Yeah,” she responded. “You just surprised me.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. She handed him the money and he counted the two twenties and a ten and grinned up at her. “Wow, 50, that's more than I have ever gotten.”

She smiled at him. “Don't spend it all in one place.”

“I won't,” he said shaking his head almost violently. “I'm saving up for an xbox.”

“Oh good,” was all she could say.

“Uh, so, I'll see you around, okay?” he said at last. She nodded. “Should I leave the key or...”

“Um, yeah, that'd be great,” she responded.

He pulled the key out of his pocket and handed it to her. She took it and placed it on the counter next to her.

“Um, bye,” he said and then turned walking back towards the front door.

“Lock it behind you, would you?” she called after him.

“Yeah, will do,” he said. She heard the door lock, then shut behind him, leaving her alone with herself and her thoughts at last.

  She leaned back against the counter, shut her eyes hard, rubbed her temples, and exhaled. What did this mean? She had never once been found at any of the other places. Should she leave? But she had just gotten here, she needed rest after such a long trip, she didn't really want to run more than she had. Rest, she thought, sleep. Things would be clearer in the morning. Slowly she dragged herself up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she stared out at the starry night sky, the waves pounding on the shore, and drifted into a fitful yet long sleep.   

She Will Be Loved

House-Sitter

by Lia Rose Dugal

Rachel Moore could barely take her eyes off the view as she drove along the coastal road towards the small town of Broadside. Without hesitation, she pulled into a dirt parking lot overlooking the crashing waves on the shoreline. She reached into the backseat of her beat up blue ford and pulled a faded red sweatshirt from her knapsack. She pulled it on around her, then tied her dirty blonde hair in a messy bun. Locking the car, she stepped out of the driver's side door, stuffing the keys into her jeans pocket, she briskly moved towards the cold breezy beach, the waves crashing endlessly against the shore.

Approaching the edge of the beach line, she peered out towards the horizon beyond, listening to the call of the seagulls, the waves, the feel of the cool air around her and just for a moment, felt alive and at peace. She sighed, closed her eyes, and drank the moment in.

Turning slowly upon hearing the slam of a car door, she saw across the street a large house with a family moving in and out to a heavily parked car, with luggage and other asundry traveling items, before all getting in. Rachel watched as the car backed out of the driveway and quickly drove down the road, leaving the house behind. Quickly yet casually, she strode toward the empty house to investigate.

At the house, she cautiously crept around it until she found a basement screen door. She gingerly tried the lock, then leaned against it a little before hearing the now familiar pop of the unlock. She smiled to herself, knowingly, then slid the door open. Leaving her shoes at the door, she tiptoed throughout the house, very large, three-story, very posh.

“Jackpot,” she smiled, allowing herself to revel in the discovery. She moved over towards the kitchen, glancing at a family photo sitting on a nearby end table. A family of four, loving doting beautifully and socially intact parents smiled out towards her, with two children, a son and daughter beneath them. The daughter had her arm affectionately around a large white dog. She glanced behind her and sure enough near the fire was a dog's bed. Dog hair, she groaned to herself, well, beggars can't be choosy.

She continued her path into the kitchen to verify and ensure her find before making her final decision. A calendar hung by the refridgerator. She looked it over and saw marked with a sloppy line three weeks marked off with “France Vacation”. Three weeks, she sighed, allowing herself to relax into the thought.

As she moved out of the kitchen, she glanced out a hallway window, seeing a small hillside in the backyard with a dirt road below. A turn out marked a perfect hide-away for her faithful ford four-door.

An hour later, after stashing the car and bringing her knapsack in, setting it on what she imagined was the master bed, a bedroom with large windows expanding over the ocean-side view, she stepped into the shower and peered out the glass window towards the crashing waves, the warm water cascading over the hair and naked body. She picked up the expensive brand of shampoo left behind, squeezed it into her hand, and scrubbed it fiercely into her stringy fading dyed blonde hair, the brown roots showing way too much. She'd have to change her look again, she knew, but first she had to find some way of reimbursing her broke ass. This life-style she had chosen was not always that lucrative.

Finding a razor and a loofah, she ran body wash luxiourishly over her body and watched as the soap ran down her chest and swam into the drain. She watched the hair disappear from under her arms and her legs, it had been way too long since a good shave. Once done, she let her hands run over the newly shaven areas, reveling in the silky smooth feel. She sighed in relief and pleasure. After letting the conditioner rinse from her hair, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel over her body after drying herself, then tying her hair up in another towel.

She wiped some of the steam off of the foggy mirror and stared at herself for seemingly along time, then she moved back into the bedroom, and into the adjoining walk-in closet to see what she could find. Hanging on the door, she found a silk bathrobe which she wrapped about her, letting the towel fall haphazardly on the floor. What did she care about neatness, she had three weeks to spare. Now to see what else she could find. Money or some way of acquiring money was the first goal. Her eyes surveyed the entire room quickly, falling momentarily on a jewelry box on the vanity dresser before the bed. No, she thought, jewelry was too risky, especially in a small town like this where the pawn shop might recognize or be able to track what she hawked. She moved out into the hall and made her way through the other rooms.

She found the daughter's room and scanned it for signs of funding opportunities. The daughter also had a vanity dresser, atop it was too items of note. A yet unopened manic panic hair dye box and a piggy bank. Perfect, she thought, picking up both items and sitting on the bed. Letting the hair dye box fall onto the bed, she turned the piggy bank around and around in her hand, looking for an opening. It was a pipe dream, she knew, she most likely would find a bit of loose change and perhaps the odd Canadian coin, a Mexican peso, mementos to a young girl, useless to her cause. She sighed at the remembrance of her younger self, long since buried. Then, she found a pop out lid underneath the piggy bank, she pulled it until it loosened and shook as the money inside, actual green bills, fell out of it onto the bedspread.

Piecing through, she counted the bills before her, which came to a complete two hundred dollars. This girl knew how to save her money. Good girl, Rachel thought, glancing up at a photo of a girl around 13 on the dresser before her. So, that photo downstairs must be a few years old now. A flashback flew into Rachel's mind, a student photo of herself aged twelve or so, staring forlornly and awkwardly at the camera. She shook the image from her mind.

“Sorry, girl,” she said as she returned the piggy bank to its original location and holding the cash and hair dye box, she moved back to the parents bathroom.

A few minutes later, out she came with now hair wet from dye, tied up and covered with a shower cap she had discovered, still in the bathrobe. Cash in her hand, she descended the stairs to the first floor. Tossing it on the counter, she scavenged the kitchen until she found crackers and bean dip which she quickly began to devour hungrily until sated. She leaned against the counter near the stove and sighed happily. On the opposite counter near a telephone leaned a white envelope and curiously she moved over to it. Upon opening it, she found three crisp hundred dollar bills.

“Five hundred dollars, this house for three weeks,” she gasped at her luck happily.

Twenty minutes later, she stood hair dryer in hand back in the parent's bathroom, finishing up the touches of the dye job. She ran her fingers through the crazy red hair and surveyed herself in the mirror, turning the dryer off. She smiled at herself, happy with the change. Now for a name. The last place she'd been in, she had chosen the name, “Goldie”. She giggled once again at the choice, blonde hair, house-crasher. So, now what she said as she fingered the redness.

 'Red,' she mused to herself. “Red riding hood, Red, Re..becca. Becca....Becca Jones, no that's the name of this family, I think, too risky. Becca...Jacobs.” She winced at the realization of the last name choice, but then shook it off determinedly. “Becca Jacobs,” she said resolved and looked at herself in the mirror. “You are Becca Jacobs.” And, that was final.   

Bring Me To Life

Hearts-Sick Doctor Who Fan-Fiction Episode Seven