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“Where am I? How did I get here?”  The storm that raged on the shore had sprinkled droplets and coldness of weather on her hair. She was already drenched in rain, yet Max Caulfield couldn’t have cared less. The lanky body, hazelnut brown hair, and freckles on her face wearing a gray hoodie and washed jeans were too captivated by the storm that heading towards her hometown, Arcadia Bay, ready to destroy everything. Next to the old lighthouse pathway where Max Caulfield stood, was her best friend, Chloe Price. Like Max, the thin girl with light blue hair fell silent as a violent storm rocked the beach and came their way. Chloe stands in stark contrast to Max. She was taller than Max and dressed like an 80s punk girl in ripped jeans and a black leather jacket. “Max…” An unfinished word full of bitterness and anxiety from the light blue-haired girl before reaching a black and white polaroid photo to her best friend. Max took it and stared at the photo for just a few seconds. Mumbled ...

Written by Alif Widitiya Naufal - J1A019036 A night on 23rd of December 2015, in the most populous and busiest city of Los Angeles. My wife, Maria, and 7-year-old Shawn were preparing to decorate our living room for Christmas Eve. At that time, Maria was tired,  so I made her a glass of warm milk and cereal, a gesture to repay my wife. Home feels very warm and cozy with the lights on and the decorations on our Christmas tree. While we were resting, there was breaking news that a murderer was on the loose. I quickly turned off the TV and move on. In the middle of the dark that night, my phone rang loudly, waking my wife and me from our peaceful sleep. While I was still half awake, a call from the Department of Defense made my heart skip a beat. My wife Maria asked me if I was okay, for I was silent like a stone, thinking about the fate of our household that I love. Shortly thereafter, a cold gust of wind blew along with the roar of several helicopters and fighter jets flying low ove...