The Becky Challenge

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  • Published: 16 Sep 2014
  • Updated: 16 Sep 2014
  • Status: Complete
(For the Mala Yousafzai competition) Morgan is a blogger who enjoys nothing more then sleep and spending time with her family. When her autistic sister announces she'd like to invent #TheBeckyChallenge, her own version of the ice bucket challenge, Morgan decides to use her blog for something other then fangirling, to promote the idea of acceptance to those with mental diseases. But will #TheBeckyChallenge get the recognition it should?


3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning, my eyes open lazily as the son filters through the curtains, burning my eyes as I open them. Grumbling, I toss backwards and forwards, trying to get comfortable, until I face the fact I probably won’t be doing anymore sleeping.

Sitting up, I glance over at Darcy’s side of the room to find she’s not there. At first I’m confused as to why a non-morning person would be out of bed before 9:30am, but then I remember it was her go to go to my brother’s football game and relax.

I’m just reaching for a book to read when the memories of the day before rush back to my head, making me sit up sharply again and practically tumble out of bed as I sprint for the laptop where it hums welcomingly at my desk.

“Please have worked,” I mumble under my breath as I quickly type on my password (SuperWhoLocked). “Please, please, let The Becky Challenge happen.”

Like most mornings when I really need to internet to work, it takes as long as it wants to slowly load the multiple pages I bring up. Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, YouTube and my Blog Website.

To ease the nerves, I stand up out of the chair and start to pace around the room, muttering a prayer under my breath.

“Please, let this happen. Please, please, please.”

On my third rotation around the room, I let out a squeal when I see my Facebook has loaded and sprint back over to scan my newsfeed and notifications.

At first, my newsfeed looks normal as usual until my eyes fall on a video posted by my friend in America. The tag above it is what makes me suck in my breath.


It’s after that, that everything starts to appear. Three videos other than my own were posted on Facebook with the hashtag #TheBeckyChallenge and my own video was shared from my Hunger Games fan page ten times, probably reaching the far corners of the world. By the time I’ve finished excitedly glancing through the comments and reposts, my other webpages have loaded.

Thirty reposts on Tumblr, twenty tweets on Twitter, 1,000 hits on YouTube and five other Becky Challenge videos with people ranging from America to Great Britain and then on my blog website, 20 comments on the video and three shares.

Practically hyperventilating, I flick between all the pages as I glance at what the video has done already, even though it was posted only 14 hours ago. One lady had messaged my page on Facebook, thanking me for such bravery as her son heard voices in his head and was constantly bullied for it by the general public. One of the videos on YouTube were even of a young girl with down-syndrome. Finally, these people, the ones with mental diseases who were treated like crap, seemed to feel loved and were starting to spread that love.


Over the next few hours, more videos appeared and by 3pm, #TheBeckyChallenge was trending on both Facebook and Twitter. The nail polish wouldn’t be able to stay on that long for a lot of people because of school, but it didn’t matter. People were taking up the challenge, even elderly men, and were showing the love to the people that needed it the most.

I spent all day, waiting and praying for when Becky would come home from her squash and horse riding lessons. By the time she walked, I was bouncing on the couch impatiently and glancing at the clock. I hadn’t told anyone in my family about what I’d done yet because I wanted Becky to see it all for herself and no one else.

When she walked in, I didn’t say anything. Instead, I grabbed her arms and marched up the stairs, ignoring her when she’d try to kick and bite me.

When we got to my room, I all but shoved her into the desk chair and pulled up the video, the one that I made for her. I didn’t say anything as it loaded and nor did she as she stared at the monitor suspiciously.

Five seconds later, the video started to play. 

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