I wasn’t in a great place when I first heard about the game.

I’d just lost my boyfriend - soon to be husband - of seven years. It’d been a few weeks since his death, and I was not particularly good at mourning. By that, I mean that I wasn’t crying over old photos, screaming into my pillow, or having a knife twist in my heart whenever I saw a couple on the street holding hands. Instead, I’d just become awkward. Y’know, staring blankly at trees for minutes at a time, or belly laughing when someone ahead of me in line at Chipotle fumbled to find their credit card. I still couldn’t really internalize the fact that he was gone. I would, every now and then, turn to my left on the sofa to tell him a joke, only to be like - oh right, he’s dead. How strange.

Naturally, my friends were pretty worried about me. Rebecca and Leah had known Ryan as long as I had - Leah had actually introduced us to him at a shindig she threw a near-decade ago. Ryan was pretty much universally beloved by everyone in our group, and for good reason - he was compassionate, kind, thoughtful, smart, talented, you name it. Rebecca would often joke that scientists needed to figure out how to clone people so there’d be less douchebags and more Ryans in the dating pool, and Leah, cycling through a series of hot mess boyfriends, would always tease that she was speedrunning through serial monogamy to one day find “a Ryan of her own.” My life wasn’t perfect, but my relationship was about as close to ideal as one could get. Ryan and I genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, always communicated through all of our problems, and were excited about the future we were building together. And now… I was stranded.

There’s a lot I’ve been coming to terms with since his passing. The biggest thing is the fact that his behavior on the night of his death was, according to the police report, very uncharacteristic. He was coming home alone from a late night, he had a lot of alcohol in his system - extra confusing, as he was someone who seldom drank - and had accidentally sped through a red light. Noticing that he was about to drive right into a pedestrian, he slammed on the brakes as hard as he could, not realizing that he hadn’t fully secured his seatbelt, and then bam, head in the steering wheel, and Ryan was dead by the time he’d reached the hospital.

Rebecca was the first person I was comfortable meeting with following his death. It was a pretty awkward conversation. Halfway through, she nervously decided to tell me that Ryan had been planning an elaborate proposal for me before the crash happened. I could tell she was hyper-fixated on my reaction as she broke the news - would this piece of information warm my heart? Or break it?

As it turns out, the answer was neither! As soon as she finished telling me, I changed the subject and enthusiastically told her about the news anchor I saw wearing a flamingo-patterned tie on CNN last night.

Google tells me this might be depersonalization.

The weeks went on, with Rebecca and Leah employing different approaches to help me during this dissociated mourning period. Leah correctly deduced that it was probably best to give me some space as I worked through things. Rebecca, on the other hand, rattled off a laundry list of things for me to explore: meditation, journaling, trying a new therapist - all things I took a stab at. None of them helped unfortunately.

Finally, during a random coffee date between the three of us, with me now two months removed from Ryan’s death, Rebecca pitched something different.

“It’s called the Ask and Receive Game,” she started. “It’s super simple. You’re gonna compose an email, and in it, you’re going to write down two things. First: you’re going to explain your current situation. Second: you’re gonna describe how you want your situation to change.”

“Who do we send it to?” Leah asked.

Rebecca pulled out her phone and texted our trio’s group chat with the following email address: [omitted]

“Once you’ve sent the note to this email address,” said Rebecca, clearing her throat as she noticed that I was back to zoning out and staring at the coffee machines in the cafe - seriously, coffee machines are so darn complicated-looking.

“Once you’ve sent the email,” she repeated, more sternly and looking straight at me, “You’ll be given a task to complete. If you successfully finish the task, your request will be fulfilled. But if you don’t complete it…”

Rebecca trailed off on a pretty ominous note there. Enough to get my attention, anyways.

“Then you can’t play the game anymore,” she concluded.

Oh. Hmm. Not really a big deal.

Rebecca continued. “My friend told me about it a few weeks back, and apparently it’s been working miracles for her, so I figured that we could at least give it a try. What’dya say?”

I could tell that Leah, with her string of romantic failings, was probably open to giving it a go. As for myself, I nodded and tried my best to feign enthusiasm, more to appease Rebecca than anything else.

The weeks carried on, and with it, my ‘inability to feel anything’ rut remained, despite my best efforts. Each evening was a mindless haze filled with wine, sad Youtube videos, and piss-poor attempts at blogging about my feelings.

I was sick of it.

And so, I thought - fuck it. Might as well try a new stupid thing.

I sat down at my computer, opened up Gmail, pulled out my phone and checked the group chat thread to find the email address Rebecca had shared, and then tried my best to recall what the rules of the game were: (1) write down your current situation, (2) describe how you want it to change, (3) get a task, (4) do the task, (5) ???, (6) profit - that was it, right?

I started typing.

Subject: Ask and Receive Game

Hi,

My friend said it would be a good idea to contact you.

My current situation: My boyfriend died a couple months back, and I’m in a weird haze where I don’t really feel anything.

How I want it to change: I want to start feeling again.

Please let me know if you can help.

Sincerely,

Maya

And then I just sat there, staring at my inbox, a hodgepodge of songs I didn’t care for playing off an auto-generated Youtube playlist in the background.

PING.

Dang, that email came through pretty fast. I read the response:

Good fortunes,

Welcome to the Ask and Receive Game.

I acknowledge your loss. I acknowledge there may be strange feelings associated with your loss. You will be given a task below to help solve this problem.

Your task: You must clean all of the windows in your house. I would recommend using a high-quality window cleaner. Find something that costs at least $6.79 for a spray bottle that is 28 oz or smaller. Clean the windows thoroughly and then dry them.

Glad tidings,

The Ask and Receive Game

Err… what? My deep-seated pain that was being shrouded by denial and derealization was going to be answered by Windex? I was starting to feel as if the Ask and Receive Game had some powerful donors from the deep cleaning lobby.

Disappointed, I went back to my mindless Youtube binge.

It wasn’t until a few days later, as I strolled through the shopping mart getting that week’s groceries, that I found myself in an aisle with cleaning supplies. I what-the-fuck’d myself towards some window cleaner spray bottles, found something that fit within the parameters I remembered from the Ask and Receive Game’s email, and chucked it in my cart.

I got home, and in realizing that I didn’t have much else to do anyways, decided to jump right into window cleaning. The first few minutes were as boring as I’d anticipated.

But then… something strange started happening to me.

I could feel my feet on the ground. I mean, really feel them. I could feel my hands on the cloth. I could actually see the window in front of me getting clearer. Life felt real. 3-dimensional. I was actually here. I was actually… present.

And as this happened, I noticed something swelling up from within me. A glacier of tears had frozen over in my chest, and it was starting to melt. I was choking up, but I wasn’t even sure why. As tears poured out, I tried to discern the emotion - was it aching, sorrow, nostalgia, longing, loneliness, crippling fucking loneliness, or all of the above?

I wasn’t sure. But - I let myself cry. And as I continued the task, moving from window to window, spray bottle in tow, I was able to successfully bawl my eyes out for three uninterrupted hours.

The task was complete. I didn’t feel great at all, but I was at least feeling.

And with that, I realized without a shadow of a doubt: the game worked.

It was a small breakthrough, but holy shit, I could finally actually miss Ryan! I could miss the handholding, the pointless arguments, confessions about our respective idiosyncrasies, doing absolutely nothing together. I had permission to miss him.

When I next saw Rebecca and Leah, I didn’t tell them that I’d started playing the game, but I think they could tell, by virtue of me being a bit more present (aaaaand a bit more wistful), that I’d at least started my journey of properly mourning Ryan.

I’d almost completely forgotten about the game after that… until I saw a follow-up email in my inbox a few days later:

Good fortunes,

Well done on completing the task.

Should you like, you can continue the Ask and Receive Game.

Glad tidings,

The Ask and Receive Game

Hm. While a part of me felt like I should’ve been rattled that this game was very clearly showing signs of supernatural omniscience, I instead decided to bravely forge on, utilizing the only tool at my disposal that had helped shake me from my funk. I was ready to continue my journey of healing.

And so, I responded to the email, saying:

Hi,

I would like to continue the game.

My current situation: I am now successfully mourning the loss of my partner. I am crying, feeling terrible, and moving through genuine grief.

How I want it to change: I would like to take actions that will allow me to start feeling some happiness and hope.

Thank you for the help.

Sincerely,

Maya

I sat at the computer again. A bit more anxious this time. A few minutes, and then…

PING.

The game had answered:

Good fortunes,

I acknowledge you are working through grief. I acknowledge you would like to start building a bridge towards a happier stage in your life as you progress through this mourning process.

Your task: Leave your place of residence no earlier than 2AM tonight. Walk outside barefoot until you find a house that is under construction. Enter it. Once inside, locate a staircase and sit on it. Tell your departed partner everything you wish you could say. Speak it fully and hold nothing back. Once you’re done, sit there for an additional five minutes. Then, return home.

Glad tidings,

The Ask and Receive Game

Welp. This one was uncomfortable.

I was secretly hoping that the answer this time around would be to build a shelf, or binge-watch The Ultimatum on Netflix or something.

Instead, Ask and Receive decided to capitalize on the fact that I was feeling pretty detached without Ryan in my life. Indeed, my risk tolerance was up.

And so, strange as it was, I waited until 2AM and then I… left my house, barefoot as requested. The ‘logical’ part of my brain had the numbers 911 typed on my phone, so that I could immediately call the cops in case anything weird happened.

I made my way down the street, opting to step on the crunchy grass wherever possible, avoiding the concrete. After twenty minutes of wandering - more walking than I would’ve liked - I found what I was looking for: the wooden, skeletal structure of a large house, the second floor incomplete, awaiting walls and ceilings. I squeaked through an opening in the orange construction fencing, ignoring the ‘No Trespassing’ signs, and maneuvered through the rickety structure. Eventually, I found a staircase in the middle of the incomplete home - a sort of stairway to nowhere, if you will. I sat on the second step, and started talking out loud.

I can’t remember everything I said. There was a lot of ugly crying. I told him I missed his dad jokes, that I missed the stupid noises he’d make when he was yawning. I missed seeing him offended and grumpy, and I missed that all it took to cheer him up was a kiss on the lips. I missed the feeling of him being asleep in the other room. I hated that he died alone.

After an hour of saying anything and everything, I sat there. Slowly, a soft, comforting sensation crept in. It felt like a warm hug. It felt like somehow, inconceivably, he had heard me. His essence was still somewhere in the universe, waiting to be called on, and ready to be plucked right out of the sky.

I made my barefoot trek home, smiling, reddened eyes the entire way. I was bringing something back with me. Hope. Lightness. Happiness.

When I next saw my friends, I decided to confess to them that I’d been playing the game. Both of them were thrilled. Leah was over the moon at the fact that I was finally starting to meaningfully move on from Ryan, and Rebecca was thrilled that a piece of unsolicited advice she’d shared with me had actually worked.

Both were experiencing their own successes with the game. Rebecca was looking to get a promotion at work, and so the Ask and Receive Game told her to go to a salsa dance class and make an absolute fool of herself. She did, and a week later, she went from ‘Coordinator’ to ‘Manager’. Leah, looking to quell her predilection for jumping into trainwreck relationships, was told to go on a meditation retreat and look inwards to better understand herself. She did, and she returned a new-and-improved Leah, one who wanted to take her time to find her partner for life.

Hope was in the air. I continued playing the Ask and Receive Game, now with a razor-sharp focus on moving beyond grief, and towards things like self-love, confidence, new hobbies, and success in life. I was given tasks like:

Plant flowers and watch them grow

Go to a restaurant and order the most unappealing item on the menu

Walk down a busy street and belt out your favorite song

All of which, through a cause-and-effect relationship that still remains a bit unclear, lead me to getting my own darn promotion, discovering new interests I never knew I would fall in love with (Scrabble, anyone?), and an overall renewed sense of excitement about the world. Ask and Receive was batting 100% when it came to improving my life, and so, I embraced every task I was given, as weird or embarrassing as it may have been.

But still… there was something missing. Now armed with complete faith in the supernatural, and in the existence of things that stretched way beyond human understanding… a tantalizing thought started coming to my mind.

The sensation I felt that night at the construction house, when I spoke out to the universe, and felt that cosmic hug.. had been the happiest I’d felt since I lost him.

And as much as Leah and Rebecca were urging me to enter the dating scene again, I knew my heart was still tied to him.

And so, I embraced the sacrilegious and near-impossible thought floating in the back of my mind: Could this game somehow bring Ryan back to life?

As the days ticked on, this question became the only thing I ever thought about.

I brought it up to Rebecca and Leah.

“You were doing so well!” Leah answered. “You were moving on, putting the past behind you - everything you’re saying now just sounds like regressing. It’s playing with fire. You know this won’t be good for you.”

Rebecca, furrowing her brow, agreed with Leah. “I know this game has special powers, but like honestly, this sounds like a threshold you don’t wanna cross. Messing with the dead is like… monkey paw stuff, y’know?”

“Agreed, Leah chimed. “Ryan’s been gone for months now. I know his death still probably feels like a knife in the chest, but the best thing you can do now is put yourself out there, play the field, go on some dates, and start falling in love again.”

I nodded. I mean, their words made sense. Logically, it all checked out.

Buuuuut, also, I had access to a supernatural game that could seemingly make anything happen, so…

As soon as I got home, I started composing that next email.

I had to know.

Subject: Asking for a Miracle

Hey,

This one might be too much. I understand if this isn’t possible.

My current situation: My boyfriend is dead. I don’t want to move on. I want to be with him.

How I want it to change: I want him, the real him, to be brought back from the dead, to be here with me again.

Thank you. No worries if you can’t help with this.

Sincerely,

Maya

I sat at the computer for hours, downing glass after glass of wine, growing more and more tired. Usually, the responses took no more than an hour. This time, it felt like I’d asked for too much.

I was disappointed in myself. Clearly, the game had to operate within the natural laws of reality. I felt as if I’d sabotaged my relationship with a tool that was single-handedly fixing my life for me.

Days passed, and I was somewhat able to erase the embarrassment from my mind. Routine kicked in again, and I was back to the daily slog.

To say I was shocked when I saw a response from the game in my inbox one random morning would be an understatement. I was absolutely floored.

I read it carefully, half-anticipating that the game would tell me to “try again” or something:

Good fortunes,

I acknowledge you have been waiting quite some time for an answer. I acknowledge that such a delay could cause grief, anxiety, and nervousness about the likelihood of this request being answered.

Larger requests like this require additional time to ensure the correct task is identified in order to fulfill your request.

Your task: Purchase a heavy butcher’s knife, with a length of at least 10 inches. After midnight, head over to Leah Smith’s house with the knife. Knock on her back door. Then, after a few minutes, knock on her front door. This will confuse her. Next, climb in through an open window - do not fret, there will be an open window. Once you’ve secured her, plunge your knife into her eye, pushing in until the blade exits through the back of her head. Continue inserting your knife through her skull for the next few minutes. After that, move on to the rest of her body. Be creative here. Utilize the emotions of anger, fear, resentment, and disgust that will be flowing through you to guide the knife. Once her body is split into three distinct sections, you will have completed your task. From there, dispose of her body using the means you best see fit. The body will not be discovered. Return home. In ten days time, you will hear a knock on your door. Your recently departed lover will have returned.

Glad tidings,

The Ask and Receive Game

I could feel myself wanting to puke as I read it. It took me a few attempts to even finish the email.

Jesus fucking Christ. The thought of even slapping someone made me want to pass out. Doing anything this abhorrent, let alone to a friend, was a level of insane cruelty that would never, ever, ever be accessible to me.

Clearly, my friends were right about this. I needed to move on. Bringing someone back from the dead required one hell of a disgusting payment that I wasn’t willing to make.

I let the email sit in my inbox. I didn’t respond. The Ask and Receive Game was over for me. Well aware that this strange, unknown force could make just about anything happen, I decided that I’d had my fill. My life had improved, and I didn’t need its help anymore.

And so, I moved on. The love I had for Ryan didn’t subside - on the contrary - I was nowhere near ready to hit the dating market. This did lead to the odd moment of jealousy as I saw Leah and Rebecca’s lives continuing to flourish with the game, with Rebecca climbing the corporate ladder in every discernible way, and Leah’s eyes glinting with a newfound hope for her future.

But still - life was good - honestly! I was going out more, doing new things, and escaping from my rut. I could feel the sun again.

All of that brings me to tonight.

Rebecca decided to throw an impromptu girl’s night, and feeling extra open today, I decided to swing by! She’d invited a few of our mutual friends, though Leah, the biggest party animal among us, was inconspicuously missing.

I’d love to say that it was a wonderful party. It wasn’t.

Rebecca, spotting that I was now seemingly 100% myself, decided to drop something on me that had apparently been weighing on her for months now. She was, of course, super drunk - not sure if she would’ve broken this to me when she was sober - and she pulled me into her room, confessing to me in a teary, confused stupor.

It was a story about the night of Ryan’s death. Rebecca and Ryan had always been close, and they’d always been great confidantes for each other, but no part of me expected her to tell me that Ryan had actually called her during his uncharacteristic drunk drive home on that fateful night. Wondering why on earth she’d waited this long to tell me about it, she told me her story.

“I don’t want to cause a stir at all,” she mumbled, half lucid. “But like I really can’t fucking do this anymore. It’s just so fucking weird to know this.”

“It’s all good. Just tell me what it is,” I said, impatient.

She choked back some tears and took another sip of her drink. She was in deep. “So, when Ryan called, and like I could tell he wasn’t in his right mind and I kept telling him to pull over and park his fucking car -”

“Right, right…” I said, trying to make her get to the point.

“He was actually coming back from Leah’s place. She’d… invited him over, told him she was throwing a surprise shindig and told him that she wanted his help to set everything up. He showed up, she gave him some drinks that he thought were gonna be light but instead they were like, super, super strong, and then she basically pulled this whole bait and switch on him. She confessed that she was, like basically, in love with him, and that she didn’t want him to propose to you - like, she came on strong, saying that she always had feelings for him, saying that he should think about leaving you maybe? Like - I know, so fucked that I’m even saying it, like I’m so sorry - but like yeah, and then they, like, kissed? I think, and maybe even did a bit more than that, but then like Ryan came to his senses, he freaked out, left her place and drove off and called me to confess what happened, telling me that he fucked up and that he wasn’t in his right mind, and he was panicking on how to tell you and apologize to you and I kept telling him to stop fucking driving––”

“Right…” I said, my heart dropping into my knees.

“And then he hung up, and I’m pretty sure it was only a few minutes later that he crashed, and I’m so sorry, and like, I don’t want to create any shit now, I just, I don’t fucking know, you know?”

And as the shock crept in, it was only Rebecca who cried. I held her. I told her a comforting lie.

“It’s all good,” I said. “Leah already told me. She confessed right after the crash.”

“Oh thank god…” said Rebecca, continuing to cry into me.

I went home shortly after. I made up a half-baked excuse, grabbed an Uber, and stewed in fury the entire way until I reached my house.

I felt torn. Betrayed. Absolutely livid.

I sat in my living room, one-half a raging volcano, the other half a sea of heartbreak. I knew that Leah had known Ryan before all of us and that was the one that introduced me to him. I knew all about her troubles with love and how highly she thought of him. I even learned to ignore her awkward passes at Ryan that she’d disguised as jokes, and all of the times she’d say that she just needed to find a ‘Ryan of her own’. But this… this was beyond her. I never on earth thought she’d pull something as gross as this. I never thought that she’d be part of the reason that Ryan was gone now.

And so, even though it was after midnight, I was resolute. I was going to call her, and I was gonna tell her exactly how I felt.

…

I heard a knock at my back door.

What the…?

As the minutes passed, and I tried to process whether I’d hallucinated the sound, I heard a knock on my front door.

No… you can’t be fucking serious.

Panicking, I checked out the windows on the top floor of my house - all polished - they seemed to be closed. What the actual -

More knocks on my front door.

I ran into my room. I dialed 911, but the call wouldn’t go through. I tried again and again - nothing. Petrified, I grabbed my laptop, and in a confused, hazy panic, I wrote an email to the Ask and Receive Game:

Subject: Help

My current situation: I think someone’s trying to kill me.

How I want it to change: I want to survive and escape.

Sent.

After seconds of my rapid breathing, I received a response:

Hello.

I acknowledge your concern.

Unfortunately, as you were unable to complete your previous task, you cannot play the game anymore.

Moreover, the Ask and Receive Game cannot interfere with the completion of an active task.

Deepest condolences,

The Ask and Receive Game

Active… task?

I heard a grunt, paired with the sound of my downstairs window getting forced open. The sound of what I believe was a large knife, held in a free hand, scraping against the wall. A familiar voice, but one I was now hearing in a completely different context.

Leah.

She’s breathing heavily. She’s prying open my window. Fear and panic are filling up my soul, as I watch text message after subsequent text message fail to go through.

I can’t believe it. This journal, which I started writing as part of my recovery journey after Ryan’s death, might be ending sooner than I’d ever imagined. I pray that it somehow reaches the outside world.

As much as I want to fight it, the sad truth is that I’m scared. I’m petrified. The Ask and Receive Game always seems to win.

And now, I feel as present as I’ve ever felt. Life feels real. 3-dimensional. I’m actually here.

Fuck.

The steps are creeping up the stairs now.

I can’t believe Leah’s going to be the one who brings Ryan back to life.