GUEST POST: TAYLOR LEE WINS 2ND PLACE IN THE FOUR HUNDRED CLUB CAMPAIGN

Writer Taylor Lee, runner up in the The Four Hundred Club Campaign

 

Introduction by Keli H

 After an incredibly restful and tech-free Christmas week, I decided to get my ducks in a row ahead of the new year. I opened up my work diary to close the last remaining tasks for the month - and goodness, was I surprised to see the date! With just a few days to the end of 2025, I took stock of all that had been accomplished this year on my writing and publishing journey: the release of Splitting an Empire, working with the bestselling ghostwriter Theresa Bhowan on Creating Literary Art, The KREST House turning 5. The most exciting of these moments is, perhaps, the collaboration my publishing house held with Axone Universe. 

 

The KREST House partnered with Axone Universe, based in Cape Town as part of UCT's Innovation Hub, to embark on a search for co-authors to work with me to write the next books in the 400 series (of which the iconic The Four Hundred Club is the first book). The search campaign for co-authors consisted of a short story competition - writers would use the original characters from the 400 universe in a short story set in the Four Hundred Club world.

 

It was remarkable - an author's dream come true - to see talented writers putting their unique spin on what I had created, and ultimately having fun with the 400 universe. I felt honoured that writers of this calibre had chosen to proffer their skill to my world. The Axone team and I deliberated for weeks on the 2 winners that would receive prizes - and potentially a publishing agreement. Taylor Lee's story was placed second (you can read first place in the Four Hundred Club campaign here.) What struck me about this story was its delve into a deeper part of reality TV that I had only marginally, and somewhat inconsequentially, touched on in The Four Hundred Club - how reality TV is sensationally edited for views. I appreciated that Taylor Lee was able to honour the preppy, fun side of the 400 series, while introducing an element of contemporary conversation into the story. Entertainment and intelligence is a thinly balanced equilibrium for even the most skilled writers to manage. My biggest commendation to Taylor - I can't wait to work together in the future. 

 

You can read Taylor's campaign entry below. To honour the work of a fellow writer, I have not changed a thing. 

 

About Taylor Lee

I’m Taylor, a storyteller and creator with a passion for chasing the next big idea. I thrive on turning imagination into reality whether that’s building brands, crafting digital experiences, or weaving stories that inspire. For me, creativity isn’t just about making something pretty; it’s about making something meaningful, something that leaves a mark. Every project is an adventure, and I bring energy, heart, and a fresh perspective to everything I create.

 

Taylor's Entry - Reality TV/ Social Media Experiment

 

Chapter 1 – Lights, Camera, Action

 

Johannesburg’s skyline glittered under the setting sun, the rooftop alive with energy. The media mogul’s son had spared no detail: cocktails on silver trays, ambient lighting flickering off glass, and a stage overlooking the iconic Ponte City tower. Hundreds of hopefuls had auditioned for the pilot reality series Next Big Creative Campaign, but tonight, only three stood in the halo of the lights.

 

Aishwarya Yadav adjusted her dance bag nervously. South Africa was supposed to be her stage, her chance to prove that dance wasn’t just a hobby it was her life. Her parents had laughed at her dreams, insisting it was impossible. Ordinary, she thought, they wanted me to live ordinary. But every pirouette alone, every rejection, brought me here. Tonight they’ll hear my song “You’re taking me out of the ordinary.”

 

 Linda Dlamini arrived in a whirlwind of designer heels and camera flashes. Wealthy, poised, and endlessly online, she had built her brand around beauty and lifestyle. Beneath the flawless posts, she was human and soft but that stayed hidden. On her live feed, her caption scrolled across a flood of emojis and hearts:

 

“Hate me or love me, I’m still trending. Fame pays the bills; your opinion doesn’t.”

 

Sharp. Sassy. Untouchable. That’s what she wanted them to believe. Hide the soft heart. Show them steel.

 

Aryan Soni, the entrepreneur, stood slightly apart, surveying the room like a market to conquer. He had grown up with nothing but a phone and grit, building small businesses on free platforms, convincing sponsors to believe in something that didn’t exist yet. His granny had always told him, “I know you will make it.” Tonight the city lights reflected the culmination of that stubborn belief. And he had a plan: a streetwear collaboration with a Jozi label that matched Aishwarya’s kinetic style bold lines, motion-ready seams, fabric that could breathe with a dancer.

 

Around them, other members of The Four Hundred Club mingled an overworked junior doctor keeping half an eye on a buzzing pager; a fashion designer sketching hemlines on a napkin; a pair of slick-tongued twins rehearsing banter. They’d been chosen too. But as the cameras sought heat, the lens kept drifting back to Aishwarya, Linda, and Aryan. 

 

The host stepped forward, beaming. “I’ve seen your journeys. Your resilience. Your talent. That’s why you were chosen.” He let the room lean in. “And here’s the twist: each week you’ll face media challenges viral hashtags, surprise influencer features, even algorithm shocks. We’ll test your adaptability and integrity on camera and online.”

 

Immediately, friction sparked.

 

“This needs meaning; I want our work to show who we really are,” Aishwarya said.

 

“Aesthetic is everything,” Linda replied, tapping her phone. “If it doesn’t look perfect, it won’t trend.”

 

“And if it doesn’t generate sponsorships,” Aryan added, calculating, “it’s useless.”

 

The host’s smile sharpened. “Perfect. Differences make the best television.”

 

Aishwarya bit her lip. “If this is going to work, one of us has to give up something and it’s not going to be me.”

 

Don’t fold, she told herself.

 

Keep the spotlight, Linda coached.

  

Make it pay, Aryan decided.

 

Chapter 2 – The Edit

 

Three days later, the rehearsal studio smelled of sweat and burnt coffee. Marker-ink ghosts crawled across the mirrors. Lights blazed. Cameras rolled. Tension simmered.

 

Media Challenge #1: #MyStoryIn60Seconds. One minute to define yourself.

 

Linda nailed hers in a single take impeccable frame, soft focus, silk blouse catching the key light. “Angles, then words,” she murmured. Let them choke on polish.

 

Aryan paced, rewrote, tried again. He could raise capital with a spreadsheet and a handshake, but under hot lights, his tongue tangled. I’m not a lens guy; I’m a ledger guy. Learn or lose.

 

Aishwarya chose movement over monologue; bare feet kissing the sprung floor, a phrase that braided home with here. Speak with your body. They can’t misquote a muscle.

 

Across the room, the doctor rehearsed his calm smile; the designer draped fabric on a friend and whispered, “Turn, turn”; the twins tested jokes on the crew. The space was full of stories, but the tension between Aishwarya, Linda, and Aryan eclipsed them all.

 

That night, the first edit dropped.

 

Aishwarya’s dance was cut into shallow fragments, paired with captions that mocked her.

 

Linda’s warmth was clipped into arrogance, her caption looped into venom.

 

Aryan was framed as a braggart, flashing a lifestyle he didn’t have.

 

The internet pounced.

 

“Dance girl is cringe.”

 

“Linda = bargain Kardashian.”

 

“Aryan flexing fake wealth? Cancel him.”

 

Phones vibrated. Comments poured in.

 

Why did they change my quote? Do they even know what I meant? Aishwarya’s chest tightened.

 

Of course. They want a cartoon, Linda thought, jaw locked.

 

If sponsors see this cut, I’m finished, Aryan calculated.

 

Backstage, fury erupted.

 

“They made me look like a joke!” Aishwarya shouted.

 

“They edited me into poison,” Linda snapped.

 

“If investors watch this version, I lose everything,” Aryan said.

 

The producer only shrugged. “Drama sells. Truth doesn’t.”

 

The silence that followed was thick, a knot tightening between them.

 

“We’re not people to them,” Aishwarya whispered.

 

“We’re headlines,” Linda muttered.

 

“Then we change the headline,” Aryan said.

 

Chapter 3 – Flipping the Script

Event night. The studio thrummed hot lights, cold air-con, hairspray haze. The audience murmured, restless.

 

The producer’s plan was predictable: staged fights, a surprise influencer cameo, an algorithm trap throttling their reach unless they performed drama.

 

But the trio had their own rebellion brewing.

 

Linda went live from backstage. No filter. No perfect smile. “Hate me, love me your views keep me paid. But here’s the real show.” Her lens caught Aryan scribbling sponsorship notes, Aishwarya lacing her shoes. Thousands tuned in.

 

Aishwarya took the stage. The song “Ordinary (You’re taking me out of the ordinary)” pulsed through the speakers, and her body carved truth into the air—sweep, strike, breath, stillness. Sweat soaked her collar; light kissed her outstretched fingers. Every move said what the edits couldn’t: See me now.

 

Aryan worked the shadows, firing off pitches to a Maboneng streetwear brand. Back the truth. Put your logo on integrity. Pings confirmed it: they were in. A soft-launch graphic dropped online mid-performance. Real time. Real money.

 

Then came the network’s dirty play: the wrong hashtag, Linda’s “Flip you” looped as venom, six chopped seconds of Aishwarya out of rhythm. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

 

“It’s live.”

 

“Everyone sees it.”

 

Panic.

 

But Linda’s livestream spiked.

 

“This live feels different. Real.”

 

“Aishwarya’s dance-goosebumps.”

 

“Aryan hustling brands for honesty? Respect.”

 

The internet chose authenticity.

 

Other cast members joined the rebellion: the doctor posted a raw clip from triage; the designer showed pins and fabric failures; the twins cracked jokes at the network’s expense. A bigger story bloomed real, messy, human.

 

By curtain call, the three collapsed backstage, sweat cooling, laughter spilling.

 

Aishwarya whispered, “For the first time, I feel seen.”

 

Linda smirked, softer now. “Turns out the raw me trends harder than the polished me.”

 

Aryan raised his phone, sponsor notifications still pinging. “People are the real wealth. Trust is the hardest currency.”

 

They leaned into each other, exhausted but electric. The cameras kept rolling.

 

Aishwarya glanced at the tally light and let it out:

 

“If you don’t rebel a little… was it ever real?”

 

More from Taylor Lee

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For more articles written by Keli H, the author, visit this blog's home page on keli-h.com

Keli H is the award winning author of the 400 series, which includes The Four Hundred Club and Splitting an Empire. The 400 series is high brow contemporary fiction revolving around the lives of wealthy circles. Keli's other works include Creating Literary Art. She is also the founder of The KREST House, a storytelling empire.