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Friedrich Goltz's Frog

This is a story I have been struggling with for about a month now. I am having a hard time with making my point come home and still keeping the story interesting...Any ideas?

Friedrich Goltz’s Frog

I glanced at my watch as I hopped in my truck and involuntarily sighed.  Already it was eight in the morning, what ever happened to my getting done work at the hospital before six? I rubbed my eyes and mentally shrugged my shoulders. Oh well, that was the way the big guys wanted it so who was I to tell them they were wrong?

As I turned onto the rush hour highway I felt my eyelids getting dangerously heavy and reached over to flip on the radio. My favorite song came on and I began to loudly warble with it---

Jesus took my burdens all away!

Now I am happy all the day!

Oh, joy!

Hip, hooray

About him I will always say,

Jesus took my burdens all away!

 Pulling into my tidy driveway I turned off the engine and leaned back in my seat. I was so tired; I just wanted to rest my head a bit before I went into the house. Blackness began to swirl around me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dipping my toes into the cool pond water I tried hard not to giggle. The water tickled my feet but Grandpa said that if I wanted to catch any fish I would have to be as quite as a mouse so I held back the surfacing laughter. Today was a big day for me--I was going fishing for the first time in my life because Grandpa had finally said I was old enough. I could feel him now sitting next to me and baiting his hook. He motioned that I should do the same but I hooked my finger twice and let three worms fall into the pond. With a slight twinkle in his eyes he put his big ruff hands around mine and helped to poke the wriggling worm then he turned back to his fishing pole and with an expert sweep tossed his bait far out into the deep water. I mimicked him as best I could but the hook somehow grew wings and flew behind me. Grandpa’s hands closed over mine again and to my great delight I saw my line land many feet in front of me. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, Grandpa and I, and then gently kissing me on the forehead he quietly stood up and left. I understood, he had told me before we went that he had an appointment and would have to leave early. I was going to keep fishing by myself.

The minutes slipped by but no fish came to bite my hook so I closed my eyes and began to day dream.

Something thin and rubbery passed around my waist and startled I jumped a little and looked down. There was an orange band around my small hips and pulling lightly on it with one finger I found it stretched like a rubber band. Curiously I hoped to me feet and looked around to see where it had come from but there was nothing in sight but water, waving grass and the empty road behind me. I tried to break off the rubber band but when I found out it wouldn’t come over my shoulders easily, I left it be. Daddy could cut it off with a knife when I got home. Right now it wasn’t really doing any harm.

I glanced out at my fishing line again. It will still not advertising any caught fish and slowly I began to day dream again. Minutes passed and I felt a strange sense of timelessness a bug crawl across my knee looking down to knock it off I noticed that my hands looked slimmer. The rest of my body seemed to have lost the childish chubbiness as well and curiously I peeked into the pond.  To my surprise my reflection stretched out much longer than it should have and with a thrill I realized that I had finally grown! Wriggling delightedly I thought how that Jessie Benton would get a nasty surprise for herself when I looked down at her Monday morning!

With a contented smile I readjusted my sitting posture and as I did I noticed another flexible band, this time it was around my ankles. I experimentally tried moving my feet and found that though I didn’t have the movement I would have without the band, I was still not uncomfortable so losing interest I left it there.

I didn’t notice the one that soon passed around my wrists or even the string that slowly restricted my shoulders until I saw my line bob. Then, reaching forward to pick up the pole I had carefully stuck in the ground, I found that my I could hardly move my arms. With a jerk of impatience I tried to snap these annoying things but they quickly changed into a strong rope which dug painfully into my skin. Well, that was inconvenient but I didn’t especially want to tear my wrists up right now so I simply ignored my dancing fishing pole and lay back in the warm grass. As I did so I became aware I had to lean back father than I normally did and a strange thought raced through my mind that I had grown again. I turned my head and saw well toned muscles running down the length of my arm. Obviously I was strong now, probably strong enough to break the band around my wrist but the moment I thought this I banished it from my mind. It hurt too much to even try. It wasn’t really worth sore wrists just to have my hands free.

I closed my eyes and let the sun shine on my face.

I barely opened my eyes to sigh as I felt a strong rope curl around my thighs penning them tightly together. But when another even stronger rope was around my neck I came fully awake and trying to sit up found I couldn’t move. Afraid now I began fighting the ropes and as I did so I noticed my hands, thin, and crisscrossed with blue vanes--they were those of an old woman!

Two faces covered with black cloth appeared above me and I could hear a hoarse cackling.

 “Slow but steady the turtle wins the race, eh?”

Though I couldn’t see anything more than black clothed heads they did not feel friendly  and I struggled frantically to free myself. Who were these men? What were they going to do to me? Had they put these bands on me? My arms were weak and with a horrified realization I now understood that I should have removed the bands while I had the strength, even though it would have hurt. The only thing left to me now was my voice.

“Help me, someone!” My voice sounded old and raspy. How had I aged so quickly? “Grandpa! Where are you?”

“Quick! No one must hear her!” the taller figure grunted to the other. “Hurry up and put the gag in!”

I felt a handkerchief stuffed into my mouth and then I was picked up.

“Ready? Toss her in on the count of three.”

With a shock I realized they were going to hurl me into the pond. I struggled frantically, spitting out the gag, the ropes cutting into my arms and legs until I nearly fainted with the pain.

“One.”

I struggled to keep a hold of my mind. Maybe it would be better to just painlessly drown than to—

“Two.”

No, life was always better, even if it was painful at first; I could always heal.

I threw all my strength into the fight and screamed as the ropes passed through my skin and began cutting deeper.

“Three!”

My hands burst free and I felt the rest of my bonds falling off but a moment later water surged over my head.  Kicking my torn legs and striking in terror with my arms I struggled to the surface gasping for air, my aged strength already nearly spent. The water washed in my rope cuts and burned like fire. I froze in pain and went under again. It almost hurt too much to swim but my will told me I hadn’t gotten this far to die. Exerting all my power I surfaced again and with painful slowness began steadily stroking towards shore. My hand touched the bank and I hauled myself safely up onto the gently sloping grass. What had I just survived--a crazy kidnapping? Had I really lived my whole life sitting on the edge of the pond slowly being tied up and simply ignoring it all? My mind began to swirl again. What was this, some terrifying nightmare?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I jerked awake and looked bewilderedly at my surroundings. I felt my seat belt cutting into my neck and I then with a rush my real life all came back to me. So that was all a dream?

My phone rung and flipping it open I saw it was the doctor calling me.

“Hey girl. The big guys up top said for you to come back in.”

I sighed and thought of the warm cup of tea, soft bed and good sleep I had been planning. Oh well, that’s what the big guys said to do.

“Alright Doc. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Backing carefully out of the driveway my dream came back to me. It was so strange! I wondered where in the world it had come from. Oh well, sometimes you just have dreams like that. They seem so much like they are trying to tell you something but you just can’t make it out. Shrugging I reached over and turned my radio back on.

“Yeah, the big guys up top just announced that all vehicles bought in the next year must be blue with graduating red circles on the hood. This is to help official cars stand more obviously apart from the others.”

Just one more thing, when would all the new rules stop? Oh well, it didn’t matter.  I was sure the big guys up top knew what they were doing.

Tip Tuesday

    Today I decided to be a bit of a rebel and not really give a tip (yes, I know, this is my first time to give a tip and I am already rebelling).  Instead, I would like to present a question.  A question that is very important.  Why are you writing?  Or perhaps it would be better phrased as:  what is your goal in writing?  Perhaps you want to be published (a great aspiration!).  But, if you are like me, you really have no desire to be published (or are not a good enough writer to get published).  So, what then?  Why are you writing?  What good is it for you to write?  This is not a question to discourage, but to make you think deeper about what drives you to write and how you can use what skill you have.  God has given us skills that are meant to be used.  Not tucked away in a box.  So, I challenge each one of you to think on that question this week.  God bless!

Hope's Resting--Part 1

A quick note.  This is not about Hope, one of the writers on the blog. :)  Now, enjoy this first installment.

             “I’m cold,” Essie’s voice quavered.

             “Here,” Adonica could feel the raggedy folds of the blanket as she tucked it around her sister.  “Is that better?”

             Essie cuddled in closer and barely nodded.  Adonica sighed and gently patted her head.  Waiting in the cold and dark could not have been her brother’s plan for them.  They had been waiting by the stream for hours.  While thirst had been easy to appease, hunger was different.  They had not had any food all day, and only a few berries the day before. 

             Essie’s breathing deepened as she fell asleep.  At least she was asleep and not awake to suffer. 

             “Adonica!”

             Adonica started “Seline?”  She frowned, his voice was coming from across stream.  What was he doing over there?

             “Come here.”

             “But Essie’s asleep.”

             “Leave her and come here for a moment,” his voice sounded anxious. 

             Adonica hesitated, then laid Essie gently on the ground and waded through the water, its cold quickly seeping through her bones.  “What?”

             “Ha!”  Hands roughly grabbed her and threw her to the ground.  Lanterns appeared as pieces of cloth were slid off them.  Her arms were wrenched behind her back and ropes were pulled around them burning her skin.

             “Seline!” Nearby he stood, head hung low, his hands also bound. 

             “Паехаnі!” a gravelly voice shouted.  She was jerked to her feet and thrown over the back of a horse. 

             “No!  Essie!” she screamed.  “Essie!”

¨   

              

             “Adonica, wake up,” a hand pushed her shoulder.  “Come on, Addie, wake up.”

             The pet name urged her eyes to open.  “Essie . . .” she sniffed.

             Seline leaned closer trying to comfort her.

             “Quiet over there!”

             Addie shrunk back.  The man’s large frame towered over them as a sneer formed on his lips.  “You two will fetch a good price at the market.”  He laughed, the sound grating at her ears.

             Seline stiffened but said nothing as the man turned back to the fire.

             Her stomach rolled over.  They would be sold and Essie would die out there in the forest all alone.  Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

The Family Magdon--Part 1

Sorry to Grace and Faith who have already read this. I didn't have time to write something new. 

The Family Magdon

Two Jewish children sat, huddled up under a large bridge in Camien, Poland, surveying the freezing world through eyes that were large in their starved faces.

Turning, so as to shield the bitter wind from Katerinca’s face, Hamtath looked down on the bluing form in his arms.

“Are you cold child?” He tried to speak in the comforting way his father often had.

“Yes Hamtath. But you are too.” The pale little girl looked up trustingly into her older brother’s face.

“Hold tightly to me and I’ll try to keep you warm.”

The hours slipped by, first darkening and getting colder and then finally, a soft glow began to come from the Eastern sky. Hamtath had struggled to stay awake and on guard but eventually fatigue had over come him and he slept by the chilling form of his sister.

As morning dawned, he was awakened by the sound of muffled footsteps behind him and a low voice calling, “Children, are you alright?”

He turned toward the voice and as he did so he felt the form of his sister,  stiff in his arms. The young woman, whose footsteps he had heard, was by his side in a moment gently feeling the cold girl’s heart.

In answer to Hamtath’s panicked and questioning look she spoke with a soft tremor in her voice, “I’m sorry young man. Her heart is not beating.”

                                -----------------------------------------------------

“Give me your hand Heidi and let me help you out the back door. They have come.”

An old woman woke from her dreams to feel her husband’s strong hands pulling her up and out of their large brass bed.

“Who, Gearston?”

“The Nazi’s. Now grab your coat and let’s go. Quietly.”

The two bent forms hastened into the dark alley and out towards the edge of town.

“Where are we going Gearston? And why are they chasing us?” The woman’s voice came between wheezes and her husband looked worriedly at her.

“Somewhere into the country, my dear, away from the town’s and soldiers. They are after us because we are Jehovah’s Witnesses. Here, lean on my arm and I will help you.”

“But you are tired too Gearston.”

“Not as much as you are. Come, take it. For once in your life don’t be stubborn.” He offered a weak smile to the woman who had never once disagreed with him.

“Gearston.” She mildly reproached him.

“Halt!” the moon shone of the black boots and gun barrels of three Nazi soldiers. “Who are you and why are you out past curfew?”

The elderly couple drew up, Heidi shaking terrified on her husband’s arm.

“My daughter—“ Gearston fumbled for an excuse. “She lives out in the country. She had a baby tonight and they do not think either of them will live. We must get to her to say our farewells.”

“Liar!” one of the men stepped forward and struck the old man with the butt of his gun. “If that was true you would have had to receive a message before curfew. And it is hours afterwards, why did you wait so long to leave your house?”

Heidi screamed as Gearston fell to the ground, bleeding from his temple.

“My husband! You have killed him!” she flung herself onto the fallen body.

“Get away old woman, unless you want to be lying beside him!” ruff hands grabbed her and pulled her away.

“Run!” the old man gasped. “Leave me.”

“Gearston!” she shrieked and struggled to get to her husband but a young soldier held her firmly.

“Hold still you old nag!” she jerked out of his grasp and ran towards the fields. She knew she had no chance but she would obey her love if it killed her.

She heard shouts and pounding footsteps behind her and then a figure appeared out of the darkness, running at her side.

“Let me help you M’am. Come this way, they will not follow you here.” The young woman’s arm caught her elbow and pulled her onward.

Heidi heard splashes and realized that her feet were soaking before her nose caught the stench.

“Let her go! She is almost to the sewers where she will die anyway.” The clatter of boots behind them stopped and turned the other way as the silent form beside her guided the old woman into a labyrinth of dark tunnels and terrible smells.

                                    ----------------------------------------------------

Maria clutched the cold form of her baby daughter, great sobs shaking her thin shoulders. Stephono, held his wife in despair. Where was God in all this? Why had he allowed them to be kicked out of their house only three short days after their beloved baby was born? Maria had not been able to produce enough milk, since she herself was on very limited food, and this last night had gotten so cold—the baby hadn’t lived through to see the morning.

“Where are we going to burry her, Stephono? The Nazi’s won’t let us come anywhere near one of the cemeteries but I can’t just dig a whole in the ground for my baby girl!”

Stephono shook his head silently. He was at a loss and running into dead ends in all aspects of his life.

“Can I help you?” A young woman kneeled down in the dirt, under the bridge, by their sides.

                            ---------------------------------------------------------

“Mama!”

Carlos watched as his 17 year old younger brother stood sobbing like a child in front of a small picture frame.

“Why’d thhe weave uth, Tarloth? I want Mama!”

“She didn’t want to Paoul. But she had to. Don’t worry about her, you’ll see her again.”

“In heaven, wif Deethuth?”

“Yes Paoul.”

“I want to go now! I don’t want to lif here!

“I’m sorry Paoul but—“ Carlos sighed. How many times would he have to explain this to his brother? Why couldn’t his brother have been born normal instead off—Carlos caught himself. He would never wish Paoul to be anything other that what he was. Letting out another sigh he continued his explanation. “—the bad guys will hurt us if they find out where we are. So we have to live here in this cellar and pray they don’t find us.”

“I don’t like the bad dyths.”

“I don’t like them either Paoul. That’s why they are bad. Now, we need to go find food, now that it is dark. Are you ready to go?”

Carlos really didn’t like taking Paoul on these nightly excursions but he had tried leaving him in the cellar once and the result had almost cost Paoul his life. There was less risk taking outside the city to the neighboring fields to hunt for food.

“Yeth. I’m weady.”

“Alright, grab your coat and we’ll go.”

They slipped out of the cellar and into the cold night air. All the citie’s windows were blackened, signifying curfew was on. Carlos prayed his nightly prayer for protection and taking Paoul’s hand he guided him as quietly as he could out of their alley towards the edge of the city.

A movement caught his eye and diving between two houses he pushed Paoul against the wall and cautiously leaned out looking strait into a young woman’s face.

She looked as terrified as he was for a moment and then moving like a cat quickly plastered herself of the house wall next to him.

“Shh!” she whispered as he looked astonishedly at her.

A detachment of Nazi guards’ marched past, boots clicking threateningly on the paved road. Carlos’s hand tightened on his brother’s wrist, silently ordering him to remain silent. Then the guards were gone and the street was empty except for them and this woman.

“Might I be right if I guessed you were on the same errand I am?” her teeth flashed a smile in the moonlight.

“That depends. What errand are you on?” Carlos remained guarded.

“The same one you are.”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing waiting for her to enhance. She seemed to be waiting for him to do the same but after a few moments of silence she spoke.

“I am Ecarg.”

“I am Carlos and—“ Pauol broke in. “I am Pauol.”

“Nice to meet you both.” She offered Pauol her hand first and winced as he gripped it in his strong hands. More hesitantly she offered it to Carlos who barely touched it.

They stood in silence together for a moment each eyeing the others curiously. Finally she leaned close to Carlos and whispered,

“You don’t want the Nazi’s to meet Pauol do you?”

Carlos took a step back and eyed her suspiciously. “Why would you ask that?”

Ecarg shook her head at his stubbornness, “Because I have a place where you can stay, if you need.”

Carlos really mistrusted her now. “The prison?”

 “No. Please God I’ll keep you out of that.”

They were stuck, going around in circles.

                                    ---------------------------------------------------

Alex stood in front of his book shop as his eyes wondered from shattered window glass at his feet to the torn books inside the shop. He shuddered, his turn had finally come. At least he could thank God that he had no family for them to take, only himself and he wasn’t going to stay around. Where would he go? He didn’t know but he would find a good hiding spot, well away from everything, and stay hidden until this sickening thing was over. He had no family, no close friends, so thankfully no one he was forced to protect. He could fend for himself and leave others to do the same. It wasn’t his responsibility to try and help them if it meant risking his own skin.

He readjusted his hat on his graying head and walked down the street towards the country. He hoped he could find an abandoned country house, or better yet, a cellar with provisions inside, where he could shelter the war out.

Five miles out into the country he came across what he thought was an abandoned house and stepping through the loudly protesting gate he walked around towards the back of the house looking for a cellar. He found one and as he pulled open the door he hears a step behind him and a soft voice.

“Can I help you sir?”

He spun around to face a young woman, his mind frantically searching for an excuse to be looking in someone’s cellar.

After a moments consideration he decided to be partially honest.

“I was looking for some food.”

“You are hungry?”

“Who is not these days?”

She eyed him carefully. “I am sorry but you will find no food in my cellar.”

He nodded and turned to leave.

“Sir.” She stopped him.

“Yes?”

She hesitated and glanced around cautiously.

“Yes?”

“Shalom?”

He looked hard at her. Was this a trap? To offer Jewish peace to a stranger was dangerous business. Why did she trust him and should he trust her?

He heard the word slip from his lips, “Shalom.”

“I have food in my house. It is not much but you may come in and partake of it with me if you would like.”

He followed her inside and down a long hall way. The house was eerily silent except for the creaking of their footsteps as they traversed the long passageway. They entered a large kitchen where the shutters were all tightly shut on the windows.

She saw him look curiously at them.

“I do not like prying eyes, sir. Here, I am sorry I have nothing better.”

She handed him a bowl of boiled potatoes.

“Danka.”  He thanked her and began eating hurriedly as she watched him.

“Where are you going Sir?”

“I do not know.” He wiped his mouth on the towel she held out.

“What are you looking for?”

“A place to live.”

“Why not in Camien?”

“Too many Nazi’s.”

“Why do you not like the Nazi’s?”

He looked at her sharply.  “I never said I didn’t. I only said I don’t like living close to them.”

“Why?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because I want to see if you will answer me right away or try to put me off. If you answer me right away you are a fraud and dangerous. If you put me off then you have something to hide that I help hide.”

Alex blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Are you a Jew?”

“If I was?”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.” Suddenly she turned vicious. “Get out of my house. I could be picked up for so much as speaking to you! Get out! Get out before I get caught with you!”

Alex jumped up in surprise at her sudden change of demeanor.

“Get out!” She screamed at him gesticulating wildly.

He hurried out of the kitchen as she moved threateningly towards him. His hand was on the back door knob when her heard her voice, gentle again.

“Stop. You are safe, there was real fear in your face. You are a Jew. You may stay here. Come, I will take you to meet my family.”

“Your family? There are others in this house?”

“Seven.”

“Seven! Where?”

“I will show you. They are in the place you must stay too.” Leading him towards a small room at the back of the house she opened a large bureau and stepping side motioned him to follow her. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind them leaving them in complete darkness.

“Carlos, please open for us. It is safe. I have a new family member.”

Alex heard noise from over his head and looking up he saw the ceiling of the bureau move and a little light filtered down onto them. The young woman reached up and began pulling down a folded ladder then she proceeded to climb it, motioning for him to follow.

He found himself in a large attic looking at a young man pulling up the ladder behind him.

“I thought you said there were seven.”

“There are. This would be a good test so see if you can find them.”

Alex looked at the young woman strangely. She either was very odd or had a sense of humor--there was no one in the attic.

“Look closely.”

He began walking around the edges examining the walls but he still saw nothing.

“I don’t see where they are.”

The young woman looked at the young man and they both smiled proudly. He walked over to one of he walls and putting his finger into a knot hole he removed a panel to revel six figures in different positions all looking at them curiously.

“Sir,” the young woman stepped between him and the panelings. “Meet the family Magdon.”

Alex stepped into the small room and silently took in his surroundings. They were obviously not a biological family. A woman who looked very tired was leaning on a man; they were certainly a young couple. Probably, based on their olive toned skin, they were Jewish. Next his eyes saw a thin boy with very red hair. He was holding tightly to an old woman, whom, Alex suspected, was in her seventies.

The young man who he had seen earlier stepped over to the last occupant of the room.

“My name is Carlos, I am nineteen and this is my seventeen year old broth---“

“I am Pauol! And I haf a wooden tar. Would you lite to thhe it?” the face that was turned up to Alex wore the smile of a child excited about a new toy but he could see something darker and thicker than peach fuzz growing on his upper lip and chin. That explained his presence. Alex smiled to himself. What had he come to that he would be living with a simple minded person?

Pauol smiled delightedly. “Oh! Lemme tell you their namth firth! This one,” pointing to the elderly woman, “her name ith Heiti but I tall her Grandmama. Thith little boy, (ithn’t he tute?) ith Hamtath. And they,” continuing on to the couple, “Are Stephono and Mawia.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance all. I am Mr. Steincipher.”

The young woman stepped forward. “We forget formalities here and call each other by first names. We are a family after all so we have the same last name. It would get a little confusing after all with four, and now five, Mr. Magdon’s, two Mrs. and one Miss.”

Alex wasn’t pleased, how disrespectful feeling to have a younger man or woman call you by your first name. But, after all, this woman was helping him. Perhaps it would only be polite to let her have the little fancy.

“You may call me Alex then but I have my own last name. I do not need to take on a fictitious one.”

He saw the young woman’s face harden and an angry light spring into her eyes.

“My name is Ecarg—Magdon and this is my family. It you do not care to take on the last name than you may stay as a guest but you will not be one of the family, Mr. Steincipher.”

Alex felt the sting of her tongue as if he had been slapped in the face and he opened his mouth to answer but she continued.

“And, Mr. Steincipher, you will kindly remember that all occupants are to be treated as your equal.”

So she had picked up on his discomfiture of living with a simple person, an old lady, and a child. The couple hadn’t bothered him though their clothes were rather dirty and the young man named Carlos was fine though he had not paid him the honor due to an older man.

“Forgive me,” He ungraciously relented. “If you insist, my name is now Alex Magdon.”

                                   

      End of Part One

---------------------------------------------------

Part 2 will be posted the beginning of July!

Tip Tuesday

Nothing will serve more effectually to improve your taste, and to give you an easy command of thought and expression, than an intimate acquaintance with the English classics. …remember that to form a good writer, the first requisite is well organized thoughts—the second, a good, unique style. If you can command thoughts which are striking and original, it is all the better provided they are appropriate. …..Let your subjects be chosen, so far as possible, as pertaining to the familiar.  Do not write about the African savage, unless you happen to be very familiar with him. Constrain yourself, to using you imagination only to fill out some scene you are already acquainted with.

                                                                                                     William B. Sprague, D.D.

This gentleman wrote in the 1800’s, as you might have guessed, so after your head stops aching from trying to understand him, take what he says with a grain of salt. His main points are, make sure you write uniquely; write about things you can accurately portray; and read well written books to improve your style.

Resigning

Due to my recent increase in business I feel as if I have been unable to develop L.A.R.K. to it’s fullest potential. So I decided to hand over my brain child to one of the other authors. Of course this was and is a  bit hard but I’m sure it will fall into good hands. Faith and Grace both expressed interest so I will be running a poll, on the side of the blog, where you can anonymously vote on who the next moderator should be. This poll will run from today (June 3) through June 14. The new moderator will be announced on the date of their choosing. Both contestants are welcome to post reasons why they should be chosen if they wish and I can tell you that I would highly recommend either. I have enjoyed my time as moderator and hope to now have more time to write since I will not be tied up behind scenes.