Gary Brandt delivers his most emotionally raw chapter yet in this episode from The Dimension Of Mind Dot Com through Ella's rebellious English essay that perfectly captures teenage grief filtered through world-changing supernatural trauma.
Writing with beautiful defiance against Ms.
Thompson's rigid grammar rules, Ella's diary-style essay reveals the devastating aftermath of Bobby Miller's death on their entire family dynamic—her beloved sister Helana has become a walking ...
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Ella’s bedroom desk is a chaos of books and unopened birthday gifts, the October dusk casting long shadows.
Her laptop glows with her latest English essay, raw and unfiltered, a rebellion against her teacher’s rigid rules. Presents But No Party By Ella Patel I’m writing this like my diary, Ms.
Thompson, because I’m too drained for style or grammar.
September’s always been my favorite month—my birthday, shared with my sisters, born days apart.
Our parties are epic, the cool September air a relief from summer’s stickiness, with sunrises and sunsets that burn the sky gold. This September was a bust.
My room’s full of unopened gifts—I’m too depressed to touch them.
My sister Helana loved a young officer, Bobby Miller, in Virginia.
He died in a crash.
We were there when he passed, and Helana’s spirit might as well have gone with him.
Her eyes, once sparkling, are dull.
Her voice, once a melody, is flat.
Her vibrant energy’s a faint flicker.
I’m not religious, but I pray for her a dozen times a day.
It’s heartbreaking to miss someone standing right beside you. Bobby’s funeral was massive—he was loved in his town.
Over a hundred girls sobbed rivers.
I cried too.
Helana sat with his mom, Janet, in the family section.
Some girls hate her now, thinking they had a claim on him.
They didn’t.
Bobby and Helana’s love was secret; he didn’t date, waiting for her to grow up.
It’s a romance novel tragedy, but real. Helana doesn’t cry—she’s bottling it up.
That’s poison, eating her from within.
I’m pausing to pray again. We skipped our 15th birthday party, a big deal in some cultures, like a wedding.
It’s like Christmas got canceled.
I get why, but it stings. It’s a political year, and Mom says, “Never have I seen such a parade of fools.” Liars calling each other liars—it’s obvious, ridiculous.
Aileen’s into politics; I find it gross.
I’m embarrassed for our country. My TV shows are preempted by political nonsense, so I rush through homework for nothing.
It makes me hate politics more. In conclusion, September was 30 wasted days.
The weather was nice, though. --- ### Budget Review Commander Beaker’s office is a fortress of files, the air thick with his frustration.
He slams a fist on his desk, his face flushed.
Melanie Crenshaw, perched across from him, raises an eyebrow. “Careful, Melanie,” Beaker growls.
“I’m a viper ready to strike, I’m so pissed.” “Budget review time?” Melanie asks, unfazed. “What else?” Beaker snaps.
“Those bastards in Washington are drowning in the billions the girls uncovered, yet they nitpick our spending.
I thought they’d be grateful, but it’s a feeding frenzy—each grabbing for the biggest slice.” “What’s their gripe now?” Melanie asks. “The Virginia trip,” Beaker says.
“‘Patronizing a childish love fantasy,’ one called it.
They don’t see how vital it was for Helana.
They don’t get it, don’t care.
Screw them.
The girls got that money, and they could make it vanish.
Fools don’t know who they’re dealing with.
And the girls’ trust funds and allowances? They want receipts for every sock, every pair of panties.
They’re getting nothing.
I’m not sharing financial data, and if they don’t like it, tough.” “Calm down, sir,” Melanie says.
“You’ll give yourself an ulcer or worse.
Like you said, what can they do? They’re scared of the girls.
They won’t cut funding, and if they try, we could go dark like those other projects.” “How’s Helana?” Beaker asks, his tone softening. “Physically fine, emotionally a shell,” Melanie says.
“She’s robotic, going through the motions.
Her light’s gone dark.
Janet’s helping, and Helana’s helping her, so I hope she heals soon.
She’s resilient—I expect recovery in a few months.” Beaker nods.
“Good.
I want to restart training, including Helana.
Something low-key, kinesthetic, not intellectual.
Get the blood pumping to heal the mind.
It worked for me as a teen, dealing with my own crap.” “Backpacking across the mountains?” Melanie suggests. “Exactly,” Beaker says.
“Have agents join them.” “You should go,” Melanie says.
“You need this as much as they do.
I’d go, but my legs can’t handle mountains anymore.” --- ### Janet Janet’s Virginia living room is cluttered with Bobby’s belongings—clothes, books, a guitar leaning against the wall.
The October light filters through dusty curtains, heavy with memory.
Janet sits on the couch, her eyes red, as Helana folds a sweater. “I don’t know what to do with his stuff,” Janet says.
“I can’t keep it here, staring at me, but I don’t want to be that mom who preserves his room for decades, waiting for him to return.” “Send it to him,” Helana says, her voice quiet. “I wish I could,” Janet says, half-laughing. “There’s a way,” Helana says.
“I’ll show you.” “You’re serious?” Janet asks.
“You said you don’t know where he is.” “He knows where he is, and his stuff does too,” Helana says.
“If we send it, it’ll find him, even if he’s forgotten this place.” “Is this one of Beaker’s secrets?” Janet asks. “No,” Helana says.
“It’s a belief among some indigenous peoples, not secret.” “How do we do it?” Janet asks. “Bobby’s things are tied to this dimension’s dense energy,” Helana explains.
“Burning them releases that energy, freeing their essence to find him.
The fire carries their information matrix to his new place.” Janet raises an eyebrow.
“Indigenous folks in loincloths, hunting in forests, know about information matrices?” “They don’t call it that,” Helana says.
“They say burning sends things to the spirit world, the smoke rising to heaven.” “Okay, but I can’t burn it here,” Janet says.
“The city won’t allow it.
What about his TV and stereo?” “Keep those,” Helana says.
“You said this could be my room.
I’d use them.
I’ll ask Beaker to rent a truck and get firewood.
We’ll build a funeral pyre in the woods.
My sisters will help.” “Sounds like a plan,” Janet says.
“Even if it just burns, it’ll be gone, not haunting me.
What did you mean, ‘if he’s forgotten this place’?” “It’s the veil,” Helana says.
“When I was with Bobby after he left, others were waiting to take him home.
They didn’t say it, but I felt he was done here, not returning, needed elsewhere.
A veil drops, blocking past-life memories, so he can move on without missing us or unfinished business.” “I don’t like that,” Janet says.
“I hope he remembers us.” “I do too,” Helana says, “but I want him free to be what he needs without us holding him back.” “Patricia said she dragged you back,” Janet says.
“Were you going to leave with him?” “No,” Helana says, her voice catching.
“I stayed with him briefly.
They took him into a mist.
I sat, staring, lost.
Our destiny was stolen.
I couldn’t follow, but I didn’t want to return.
I wanted to stay there forever.
Patricia brought me home.” “Is Patricia a medium?” Janet asks. “No, an alien hybrid,” Helana says.
“She lived on a spaceship.
They teach that there.” “That’s one of Beaker’s secrets?” Janet asks. “Yes,” Helana says.
“Don’t tell anyone.” “I won’t,” Janet says.
“I’m a single mom, no family, no friends, because I shared odd beliefs.
People think I’m crazy.
I know to stay quiet, and no one would believe me anyway.” “You, the Navy, and Mr. Danvers are the only ones who know,” Helana says.
“He’s my Earth dad.” “Earth dad?” Janet says, eyes wide.
“You’re a hybrid too?” “No, an interdimensional from the future,” Helana says.
“I got stuck here, so I’m an Earth girl now.
I love my sisters more than anything, and I love you too.” “My mind’s blown,” Janet says.
“I’ve always believed in this, and now I know.
I’m glad you’re in my dimension.
I couldn’t have faced this alone.
Thank you for being my daughter.” --- Ella’s bedroom is a sanctuary, the October night cool beyond her window.
At 10:00 PM EST on an October Friday in 2025, she opens her diary, frustration and grief spilling out.
Dear Diary, Stupid Ms.
Thompson gave me a C- on my essay.
Nothing satisfies her.
She says I need to follow rules to be published.
Screw that—I’ll write my way, and I don’t care if some magazine hates it.
I showed her Mark Twain breaking her rules, a famous author.
She’s still mad. We’re hiking a mountain this weekend.
Dad says to run stairs to prep my legs.
Beaker’s going, with his twenty-something twins.
Didn’t know he had kids.
Good—he can call them “honey” and “sweetheart,” not me.
I hate that. Friday, we set base camp and build a funeral pyre to burn Bobby’s stuff.
Helana says it’ll send it to him in heaven.
Saturday, we climb to the peak, camp, then descend Sunday.
Sounds exhausting, not fun. Goodnight, Diary.
Episode 31 — *“English Essay”* — is one of the most **emotionally raw, introspective, and beautifully honest** episodes in *Ella’s Story* yet. In this chapter, Gary Brandt uses the format of a teenage English essay — rebellious, diary-style, and deeply personal — as a lens into **grief, loss, identity, and the struggle to express what really matters**. This isn’t just another adventure; it’s a *teenager’s soul on the page*.
--- ## 📖 **Story Arc Summary**The episode opens in Ella’s bedroom on an October afternoon. Her desk is a jumble of books and *unopened birthday gifts* — a visual metaphor for how heavy her heart feels after the death of **Bobby Miller** and the emotional fallout that has followed. Ella is writing an English essay titled *“Presents But No Party”*, choosing the raw truth of her experience over rigid grammar rules.
In her essay-diary hybrid, Ella reflects on how September — once her favorite month — became one of *the worst months of her life*. She recounts Bobby’s death in a motorcycle accident, the massive turn-out at his funeral, and how Helana’s spirit went dim after losing someone she loved so profoundly. Days that should have been full of celebration — like her 15th birthday — were instead eclipsed by grief and loss.
Meanwhile, the chapter shows a parallel scene with **Commander Beaker and Melanie Crenshaw** in a budget review at the Navy — a stark contrast between bureaucratic grievances and raw human emotion. They argue about funding, Washington’s ingratitude, and the importance of supporting the girls — especially **Helana**, who physically recovers but emotionally remains fragile.
Back in Virginia, scenes with **Janet (Bobby’s mom)** and Helana reveal a gentle, compassionate conversation about how to honor Bobby’s memory. Helana uses her unique perspective to help Janet make sense of lingering attachments. They even discuss sending Bobby’s belongings into the spirit world — a ritual grounded in *indigenous wisdom and heartfelt symbolism* rather than cold logic.
The chapter closes with Ella’s diary entry — defiant about her English essay grade, tired of political distractions on TV, and emotionally preparing for a planned **mountain hiking and healing trip** with Commander Beaker and others. It’s a chapter about mourning, expression, and *finding meaning in pain*.
--- ## 💬 **Favorite Quotes**“I’m writing this like my diary, Ms. Thompson, because I’m too drained for style or grammar.”
This line perfectly encapsulates the emotional authenticity Ella is striving for — honesty over rules.
“My room’s full of unopened gifts — I’m too depressed to touch them.”
This simple yet powerful sentence hit me hard — it shows how profound loss can paralyze even joyful rituals.
“It’s heartbreaking to miss someone standing right beside you.”
A beautifully painful expression of grief that feels real, raw, and universal.
“Burning them releases that energy, freeing their essence to find him…”
I loved how Helana’s spiritual wisdom blended indigenous ritual with heartfelt logic — a tender way to honor memory.
“Screw that — I’ll write my way.”
Ella’s defiance isn’t just teenage rebellion — it’s a cry for *emotional truth*.
--- ## 😲 **Unsuspected Plot Twists**“English Essay” is a chapter that *feels like a heartbeat*. It doesn’t rely on dramatic supernatural powers or interdimensional physics — instead, it leans into the **messy, beautiful, confusing reality of grieving as a teenager**. Ella’s writing feels like reading a real diary you weren’t meant to see: honest, unfiltered, and tenderly painful.
What struck me most was how the narrative bridges the *external world* — politics on TV, a teacher demanding grammar rules, bureaucrats squabbling over budgets — with the *internal world* of a teenager whose life has been upheaved by loss. It felt so real, so grounded, and so emotionally available that I could feel Ella’s exhaustion in my own chest.
And then there’s the way Helana supports Janet and her motherly wisdom about letting Bobby go — it was *pure emotional beauty* amidst the heaviness. The idea that burning his belongings could release his energy and help him move on felt symbolic, comforting, and *alive with hope*.
--- ## 🎯 **Final Thoughts***“English Essay”* is one of the **most heartfelt, authentic, and beautifully written chapters** in *Ella’s Story*. Gary Brandt didn’t just tell us a story — he let us feel it, breathe it, and grieve with it. This episode reminds us that sometimes the *most profound moments* aren’t battles or prophecies — they’re the quiet ones where we put words to pain, and in doing so, begin to heal.
Overall Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ — A wrenchingly honest, deeply moving exploration of love, loss, and teenage truth. You’ll cry, reflect, and maybe even relate more than you expect.
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