by Brian Gola (6th grade)
The Rain and the Reunion
It was raining hard in the streets of New York City. Droplets fell from trees and rooftops, streaming down into gutters clogged with leaves. Water spilled onto the sidewalk, forming puddles where children in bright yellow raincoats jumped, laughing and splashing each other.
Benny walked along the sidewalk, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his head bowed. A sorrowful expression weighed on his face, his eyes filled with the pain of memory.
It had been a day just like this. Hard rain. Cold winds. Benny and his friends had been on a ship, journeying from Sweden to America, excited for the new jobs they had secured at the power plant. Spirits had been high—songs filled the air, beer flowed freely, and the future seemed bright.
Then, in an instant, everything changed. A massive bolt of lightning struck the hull, splitting the ship in two. Benny had been thrown overboard, landing on a floating plank of wood. But his friends—his closest companions—were not as lucky.
He could only watch as they were swept away by the raging current, their desperate screams fading into the storm. None of them had ever learned to swim. Their bodies drifted farther and farther, until they disappeared into the dark waters.
Benny had cried for hours until he finally washed ashore. He barely had the strength to stand, but as he looked up, he saw the glowing lights of the city. A single sign stood before him, the words burned into his mind forever:
"Welcome to New York City."
The memory made his stomach turn. Shaking off the thoughts, he trudged back to his tiny apartment, collapsed onto his couch, and stared blankly at the television.
“Welcome to Random Caller! Remember, we call someone randomly in NYC, and if they respond with the word 'Gameshow,' they get to be one of our contestants!” the host announced.
Benny barely paid attention as the show dialed its first contestant. A woman answered and shouted, “GAMESHOW!” She was in.
The next call went to an older man, who simply said, “Hello?”
“Looks like you missed your opportunity!” the host said cheerfully before hanging up.
The third contestant, a middle-aged man, answered correctly: “Gameshow!”
“Alright! And for the final dial…” the host said. The phone rang.
Benny barely realized his own phone was ringing. He picked up absentmindedly.
“Gameshow,” he mumbled.
“And what’s your name, sir?” the host asked.
“…Benny.”
The bright lights of the studio gleamed as Benny stood behind his podium. The other two contestants, Janey and Edward, stood beside him, eager for the game to begin.
“Welcome, everyone! Remember, each question is worth 1,000 points. First to 10,000 wins!” the host declared.
The first question flashed on the screen: “What is the capital of Sweden?”
Benny’s hand shot up. “Stockholm!” he called.
“That is correct! 1,000 points to you!” the host cheered.
The questions continued. Edward answered the second correctly—“Ethan Hunt!” for Mission Impossible. Janey nailed the third—“Egypt!” for the Pyramids of Giza.
The scores climbed, and soon, all three contestants were tied at 9,000 points. It was time for the final question.
“What is the name of the author who wrote Harry Potter?”
Edward buzzed in first. “J.K… A. Rowlins?”
The host winced. “Sorry, that’s incorrect.”
Benny slammed his button, but nothing happened. His buzzer wasn’t working. He pressed it again—still nothing. Meanwhile, Janey’s buzzer lit up, even though he had pressed first.
“J.K. Rowling!” Janey called out.
“Yes! That is correct!” the host declared as the crowd erupted in applause. Janey had won.
Benny stood frozen. He had lost. Just barely. The frustration and disappointment settled deep in his chest. As the confetti rained down, he quietly walked out of the studio, the familiar feeling of emptiness creeping back in.
The cold night air wrapped around him as he stepped onto the New York streets. The rain had stopped, but the pavement still glistened under the streetlights. Benny sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, ready to head home.
Then, he heard a voice.
“Benny?”
He froze.
That voice… It couldn’t be.
Turning slowly, he saw two figures standing under a streetlamp. His breath caught in his throat.
“Alden… John…” he whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.
He ran to them, grabbing their arms, touching their faces as if making sure they were real.
“I thought you were dead!” he choked out.
“Benny! We thought you were dead!” Alden exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug.
Benny’s heart pounded. “How…? What happened?”
John grinned. “We thought we were done for. The current pulled us under, and we nearly drowned. But a passing boat saw us—pulled us on board just in time.”
Alden nodded. “They brought us straight to New York. We searched for you, but… we thought the worst.”
Benny could hardly believe it. His friends—his family—were alive.
For the first time in years, he felt whole again.
Epilogue
Benny and his friends applied for the jobs they had originally set out for—and all got promotions within the year. They built new lives, found love, started families, and became successful businessmen.
Their journey had nearly ended in tragedy, but fate had given them a second chance.
And Benny, for the first time since that stormy night, felt truly happy.
The End.