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You know, throughout all those times when I really thought you hated me, when I really believed that I wasn’t good enough, I truly knew how I felt about you. And I still remember all those times when you were cold, or when you hid from me. It was those times when you wished you could fade away. It’s okay. I’ve been having those thoughts too. Like “wouldn’t it be great if you could live alone? You wouldn’t hurt anyone. Nor would you get hurt.” Those thoughts never seemed to go away. But I just kept thinking of you. Even though I can‘t feel your touch, I finally understand what it is. That’s why I could feel like we’ve met before, why were still together. Death won’t stop me. And it hasn’t. Because you’re sitting with me, with your Sullen Girl, staring off into eternity.


I feel like I shouldn’t be in this world. I feel like I should move away somewhere dry, or somewhere wet. Maybe I’m just confused, confused about this world that we call a home. It’s not a home to me. It’s like a purgatory. And the outside is like a heaven. And I’m smack in the middle of both. It didn’t used to be this bad. When I was nine, I had all my dreams lined in front of me.
“I’m going to be a writer, and not one of you can stop me. Soon you’ll be groveling at my feet, asking for autographs! You’ll see!” That’s how it was. Now I can’t stand the praise and adoration. I went from outshine to outcast. I won’t go near the star light, it’s too bright.
But there’s one thing people don’t understand. When they read what they can’t say, they think it’s brilliance. When they say what they can’t read they think it’s an abomination. People are afraid to say what they really think of this world. Even though they are given that power, they’d rather wait till someone realizes this and does it for them. But then they don’t understand what they’re reading.
I write from what happens to me. Usually the characters I create in my head are an innuendo of me. But like I said, no one is smart enough to figure that out.

My name is Sarah Marie Brown, and I lost the one thing I loved most.


Act 1.0


I was nineteen when it happened, ten years from when I declared my future. I had a few friends. There was Breanna, and my best friend Amanda. Amanda wasn’t your average best friend. No, she was much worse. She hated me, this I was sure of. She never seemed to like me. Although we hung out on the rainy days, I never heard her say that I was her best friend. Amanda was independent and strong. Her Unnatural dark red hair negated my black hair, and her pale skin and strange purplish eyes outshone my own. She said my green eyes were always changing. She said when I cried they were the prettiest. I never believed her. She never cried in front of me. She had this look to her. And it told everyone in eye distance not to piss her off. But then she’d smile and it’d make you nervous, and your heart would race, almost as if she looked at you like you were lunch.

Breanna had blonde hair. She had the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. And she had the cutest smile, making boys melt. She was your typical pretty girl. But Breanna didn’t understand life much. She told me once there isn’t a need for the outside. As long as you stay within your perfected bubble, no one can harm you. And if you cannot understand these terms, then you must go back to your perfected world. Of course I believed nothing she told me, but maybe she was right. Maybe you should stay in your bubble. That way, nothing you love can die.
“But everything dies some day.” I told her. She looked at me smugly and smiled.
“Do you believe in hell Sarah? What about heaven? Well, wherever we go, our loves will follow. But you know what’s great about hell? You can watch others suffer, the same way you did. You don’t feel so alone. Why do you think we have friends? Friends are there just to share what you’ve already done. They don’t love you. They just want to be loved. You’re alone in this world. Truth is, throughout your whole life, only four people you call “friends” really are. That is pathetic. This world is crazy, and we’re in it for what? Pain? Sarah, pain is an illusion. Heart ache is real. Love is real.”
Breanna was nine when she said that. I swore she got it from a book because I had no clue what it meant. She smiled and hugged me. “You are one of the four.” That at least I understood. It meant I was her best friend, her family, the only one she had. Because if she truly felt alone, she wouldn’t waste her time telling me what she believes.
“When you become a great writer, and I become a famous dancer, we’ll do a play together. You can write it, hire a group of people to put it on, and I’ll dance it. People from all over will come to see us.”
“But I’ll see you through that time won’t I?” Some part of me knew this was an ending. I knew endings oh, too well. They ended with these things. With these promises.
She ignored my question. “We’ll meet in Starbucks. You’ll have a laptop and write it all out as we sip our Java Chip Grandes.” I could feel her hands loosening from mine. Her hands slipped out like lucid water, flowing to the other side of the street…
“Breanna! Where are you going?”
“Someday, we’ll be together again. I swear it! Give me ten years and you’ll see me again!” Her body turned around the street corner. There was a loud screech of a car, and a bang. Something had hit the concrete alleyway. I ran back thinking: “Breanna, Breanna, Breanna!” But there was no Breanna. There was a silver car in front of black skid marks. The front hood was dented in the shape of a little girl about my size, yet no little girl. There was blood on the hood, yet there was no belonging body. The driver was gone. I could feel my knees giving out. I slid to the floor, bawling my eyes out.

The day flew back to me in seconds, though I wish it hadn’t. I wished my delusions were a little bit longer. That night, I had the weirdest dream. Maybe it was from all those delusions? This wasn’t the kind of dream I’m used to. Dark and cold weren’t my favorite feelings. They were bearable, but not satisfying. Yet, this newly found dream wasn’t all foreign to me. I, at least, knew where I was dreaming.
“Taking a short cut!” A musical voice called.
“Who’s there?” I answered.
“Breanna, wait!” Said a different voice. I peered into the barely light street. Suddenly, my mouth dropped, and a gasp flew out. It all clicked. I was replaying Breanna’s death, and I could feel everything as if it was happening again!
I was making rash decisions. My body was running, and my mind was trying to figure out why. So I just shut myself up, and let my heart make all the right choices.
I had to stop her. I had to make sure she didn’t run into the alley. My legs were tired, but I had to run. I would make sure she ran into me and not the car. I could see her now, exactly as I remembered. My memory couldn’t have done better to justify this moment.
She was coming right for me, her eyes looking past me…I opened my arms, to catch her, but her body went right through me.

If you’ve ever walked up a flight of stairs in the dark, and thought there was one more step, even though you’ve reach the top, there’s a brief moment of fear as your foot falls through the nothing less air.
That’s how I felt when I couldn’t stop Breanna, that’s how I felt when I saw her blood right before me. All these feelings were coming back up, ten fold.
I could hear the car now. I closed my eyes, and covered my ears. I screamed out the only name I knew so well.
“Breanna!”
Suddenly, everything stopped. I was in a new place now. I was by the pier where me and Breanna used to try to catch fish with our bare hands. We were playing a hand game. Everything was peaceful. Even though it started to rain. I watched under a tree, watching my past self and my best friend.
“Beautiful, how a memory can never be forgotten. Every memory has a certain smell. And, no matter if you forget that memory, as long as you smell the same scent you were surrounded by when that perfect moment happened, it will come back to you, in full detail, as if you were seeing it right before you.”
“Who’s there?” I asked the mysterious velvet voice.
“So that’s why this memory is so clear. It’s the rain that you smell…”
“It isn’t the rain..” I mumbled.
“Oh, then what is?” The sweet voice asked.
“Show yourself!”
“Fine. Look up.” I looked up into the tree branches.
He was the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. The boy gracefully leapt off the tree branch and landed in a lithe.
“Who are you?” I asked again, breathlessly. He held a hand out
“My name is Dorian Stauffer. But who isn’t the right term. More like what.” He waited. I placed my hand lightly in his.
In that moment two things happened.
His long fingers wrapped around my hand like a snake around it’s prey. He pulled my hand to his face and pressed his cool marble lips to my burning skin.
His hand, his face, his lips, were all dead cold. I quickly snatched my hand back as if it had been burned. His eyes weren’t abashed. He was just smiling, like he was expecting my reaction all along.
“What the hell are you?” I asked, rubbing my hand. His cold lips somehow made it feel like it was stinging, though it wasn’t. There was nothing there. I tried my hardest to keep my voice level, so the past me couldn’t hear us.
“Depends on what you mean by “What”.” I felt like I was Alice in wonderland and he was the Cheshire cat, smiling, speaking in riddles. Though there was surely no resemblance.
“You’re not human…” Your as cold as ice!”
“Ah, so that what. Dead, I suppose would answer your question.”
“This isn’t real…” I said to myself. I kept chanting it like Dorothy. I wasn’t asleep anymore. I was trapped in a world of horrible children’s movies. The next would be Cinderella…
“Real or not, the outside world has stopped, paused, while the inside world is set in motion.”
“The inside world? There’s only one world.” I corrected him. “It’s crazy and corrupted. It’s filled with liars, bad people, greedy people who all think they’re good. There’s people who say ‘That will never happen to me,’ and that happens the next day-” He put a cool finger over my mouth.
“I know because I live it too.” He murmured.
“You just said you were dead.” I reminded him sourly.
“Yes, but I’m alive. Tainting the world with a deathly smile. Dearest, Sarah, my world is far darker and corrupted than yours.” He sighed.
“How…do you know my name?” He began smiling.
“Love, I’ve known you since you were a little thing. I’ve watched you laugh, and cry.”
“What else do you know?” I muttered sarcastically.
“Your full name is Sarah Marie Brown. Your favorite weather is rain. Your favorite faraway place is on a piece of paper. You aspire to be a novelist, but are failing miserably at it. And finally, to make this list short, you were promised something by an old friend.”
“That narrows it down for me.” I said hugely. “You’re a stalker.” He laughed
“No, not exactly.” He gave me an innocent smile.
“Then tell me, Mr. Stauffer, what would you call yourself?”
“Your friendly neighborhood Vampire!”
“Friendly? Vampire? You’re a psycho.”
“Call me what you will, but it’s the truth.”
“If I had a coconut for every time some lunatic said something like that…”
“You’d have a lot?”
“I’d have one.” There was a silence between us. Maybe because of my comment.
“So what is this place?” I finally asked.
“A place of all your memories. And I’m the one who pieces them together.”
“So are you telling me you have powers like god?”
“No, something more powerful.”
“Oh, I see.” I murmured. His scent was all around me as the wind started to blow. It was quick then, like the flash of lightning. I remembered this day. I watched my past self try to balance on the Lake’s pier.
“I’m going to fall in the lake…and I can’t swim..” I said to myself.
“That’s my cue.” He chuckled.
“Hey, wait!” I said as he got up. He wasn’t paying any attention to me now. My past self fell in. Breanna started to scream She knew I couldn’t swim, and neither could she. Dorian took his shirt off, and dove in head first.
He was going to save me.
Breanna never looked at him. She kept looking into the water. Then it hit me. They couldn’t see him either.
Dorian popped his head out of the water, with me in his arms, swimming back to the pier. The little me was unconscious. He never pulled me out of the water, but he draped me like a towel over the pier, where Breanna pulled me up. He shook his head and water flung everywhere.
“So you’re the reason I didn’t die that day. That’s why I was so cold. It was because of your body. You carried me back to shore.”
“I saved you!” He gleamed with excitement. And then, I began to laugh. I felt like a little seven year old, playing with Breanna.
“So you really are one of them…those vampires.”
“Yep. I’m completely unnatural.”
“Give me a demonstration. You know, drink my blood. Let me see what it’s like, in your eyes.”
“No. I refuse to be a monster when I don’t need to be.” His happy face was suddenly gone.
“You know, you’re quite moral for a vampire.”
“I have to be. It’s the only way I can feel human.” He sighed. “And soon, you’ll wake up. And I’ll never see you again…”
“Wait…I don’t want you to go…”
“I have too. That’s what I have to do. Just like you have to wake up.” He got up, and brushed the grass and dirt off of him. And he began strolling away.
“Dorian, wait!” I cried, and ran after him. He turned around quickly, catching me in his arms. My heart started racing. I could hear it in my ears. Blood ran to my face, making me blush. It was surprisingly warm from where I was. I was able to see him more clearly when I was right there, in his arms. His face was well rounded, jaw prominent. His eyes were soft blue, milky. His Black hair and spiky bangs tried to seal away his godlike looks, but was not inevitable. He was even more perfect close up. Dorian held my wrists to my sides. My body was hot, and I knew the feeling of uneasiness in me.
“Please, Sarah…” He whispered huskily in my ear. My body went numb, and my eyes fell half-mast. The sweet scent off of his skin filled my brain. “Don’t make this harder for me…” He leaned in a pressed his cold lips to my forehead.
Maybe it was part of his plan, to stun me like that, just so he could get away. Or maybe he really meant it? I wasn’t sure. But I knew one thing.

All those cliché’s about it. All those stupid poems, books. They all had one purpose, one feeling. The feeling of love coursed through my body, and fell into the chambers of my heart, where it would stitch me up, and lay there for the rest of eternity.