We’ve spent the last two hours combing through bedrooms, closets, and the attic, and finally, we’ve hit the jackpot—three large boxes stuffed with old VHS tapes.
“Do you even have a VHS player?” I ask, trailing behind him as he carries a box down the hall.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” He drops the box in front of an elaborate entertainment unit in the den and flings the cabinet doors open with a dramatic flourish. Inside, sitting proudly among a mess of wires, is an ancient VHS player. “Ta-dah!” he announces.
“God, this is going to be an experience,” I say, laughing as I place the pizza and six-pack of beer on the coffee table. I sink cross-legged onto the floor.
“This,” Josh says, tapping the box, “is some of my best work.”
“I highly doubt that.” I grin, leaning forward to open the nearest box. “But it is your origin story.”
“And Sam’s.”
“And Sam’s,” I agree, pulling open the lid. “Quick, grab the other boxes. I’m starving, and the pizza’s getting cold.”
We eat and drink, trading jabs while sorting through the tapes.
“Do you remember when you first started filming?” I ask, taking a long pull from my beer.
Josh tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling as he thinks. “Maybe fifth grade? I got a camcorder for Christmas. I think my parents wanted me to record the family, but then I met Sam and I started directing movies, and….” He shrugs, trailing off with a small smile.
I dig through the box and pull out a tape at random. “Oh God.” I start cackling, holding it up triumphantly. “It’sDragon Slayers!”
Josh groans, reaching for it. “No! Let my failures die.”
“Hell no.” I shake my head, keeping the tape out of his grasp. “We areabsolutelywatching this.”
I push up from the floor, crawling on my knees toward the VHS player. Sliding the tape into the machine, I rock back onto my heels and pick up the remote, hitting rewind.
“You know it’s probably corroded or?—”
I hit play, cutting off his excuses, and laugh in delight as the video flickers to life. The image is grainy and unstable at first, but it steadies after a moment.
On the screen, I’m about thirteen—no, fourteen—dressed in a sheet-toga, holding a sword and shield. Sam, covered in green gunk and wearing fairy wings, stalks toward me, flapping his “dragon wings” menacingly.
“I’m here to rescue the prince!” my younger self yells, thrusting the sword into the air with dramatic flair.
Sam rears back on his legs, his front arms windmilling wildly as he attempts to bark threateningly. Behind him, George and Thomas—dressed as sheep—run around, smacking into each other and bleating in terror.
I fall back, laughing so hard I can’t breathe. Josh’s arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest as he roars with laughter too.
“Oh my God.” I wipe a tear from my eye. “I am onewickedactress.”
We lie on the floor together, watching as the story progresses, diverges, and reforms into a tangled mess of plot holes and childhood brilliance.
Interwoven with the story are bits of behind-the-scenes footage—Sam and Josh calling “cut,” repositioning us, coaching our lines, and arguing about the motivation of the characters. It’s ridiculous, chaotic, and perfect.
“I love this,” I sigh, leaning back into Josh’s chest. He runs his fingers over my palm, teasing the sensitive skin while we watch scene twenty-nine play out. The dragon sobs because his sheep have run off, and the shield-maiden comforts him with a pat on the back.
“It’s your beginning,” I say softly. “These videos capture you doing what you love.”
Josh’s fingers still for a moment before resuming their gentle tracing. He doesn’t say anything.
I tilt my head back to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t see it like that?”
He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. We’re lounging against the couch, me leaning into him, his back propped against the cushions. His free arm is tucked behind his head, casual and relaxed.
“My favorite part is coming up,” he replies, nodding toward the screen.
