Potions & Fangs: Vampire Emails #1 Page 2

  Beth Ann Brody, huh? I still have nightmares about her, and we never kissed. Sorry about your tongue. I assume it’s all healed now?

  Ghost tours? Ok, that sounds like you. And I”m glad you won’t disappear into a TV. If you do where would the owl send your letter? I don’t think they can pass into that dimension. But maybe I’m wrong. I’m just a muggle after all. Do you remember when we watched all eight Harry Potter movies in a week? And then you started talking in that ridiculous British accent? Mine was way better than yours. I bet I could pass for a Brit if I really wanted to. By the way, my memoir is going to have poetry in it. It’s going to be something completely new. I’ll send you a copy when I finish it. First I have to do more living.

  I have to run. There’s a knock on my door, and I’m pretty sure I know who it is. Keep smelling good and stay away from braces. Oh, and I know I’m going to regret this in the morning when I realize I admitted it, but I once dreamed about you. Ok, more than once.

  Save me a seat on the Hogwart’s Express,

  Fern

  6

  September 1

  Subject: Delete

  Holder, if it’s not too late please delete my last email. Thanks a bunch.

  7

  September 2

  Subject: Delete- I don’t know what that means…

  Drunk Fern emailing me at 2 am. Now that was unexpected.

  Alcohol was never your thing, if I remember correctly. What was it you once said to me? Oh, yeah–that you prefer to watch drunks, not be one. That there was never anything more amusing than watching a bunch of drunks try to hold a conversation.

  I’m not judging, so don’t think I am. I happen to like drunk Fern. She reveals a lot. I learned I smell good. You like my smile. You don’t want to fix me because I’m perfect the way I am. And you’ve dreamed about me. More than once. Now, you know you can’t leave me hanging. You have to give me details on the dreams.

  Just what sort of dreams have you been having about me, Fern Daniels? Inquiring minds want to know...

  I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I know you probably won't share any more than you already have...unless you drink a little too much again. You should see me, I’m smiling like a damn idiot while I type this. I think my roommate might actually be afraid of me right now. Probably thinks I’ve cracked. That the struggle to decide if SCAD is actually for me has gotten to me finally. In his defense, the thought might not be far off. The whole Art History as my major doesn’t seem like a good fit anymore. Think it’s too late to switch?

  Back to you. I can picture you right now. Your face tomato red. Your eyes as wide as damn saucers while you continue to read and analyze every word I type. You’re wishing you’d never drank. You’re wishing you could have found some other way to entertain yourself besides emailing me last night. You’re wishing I would have listened to you and deleted your emails without reading them. Haven’t I proved by now I’m not the deleting kind of guy? I like your emails. Maybe I’m going to get too mushy here by saying this, but they feel like home. That’s weird. I don’t know why I just said that. I’m not even drunk. I swear. It’s lunchtime. I’m having my usual pizza slice today back in my room since the other option was something called a hummus bar? It looked like baby poop and people were spreading it on crackers. Seriously. WTF?

  About the ghost tour job. I guess the flux of weirdos haven’t made their way through Savannah yet because the position doesn’t start for another two weeks. This is my last slice of pizza. It’s back to cereal after this. And ramen. I’m getting pretty good at making noodles seem gourmet.

  The Harry Potter marathon. I’ll never forget that. And, my British accent is pretty damn good. Not as good as yours, I’ll admit, but still good. I’m holding you to the copy of your memoir. Mainly because I’m curious to see what's in it. Whatever it is I’m sure it will be great. You always were good with words. We should collaborate one day. A children's book. You write it and I’ll illustrate.

  Okay, now I’m procrastinating. My lunch should have been over ten minutes ago. Another dead artist speaking to me from the pages of a textbook is calling. Ugh.

  Holder

  P.S. I have to ask...who was at the door? If it was Michael Myers you better not have answered. We all know six shots wouldn’t kill the guy, but if you walk fast enough you can get away from him easily.

  8

  September 3

  Subject: Iceberg!

  Dear Holder,

  I’ve started and restarted this email about five times now. I’m done messing with the delete button, so you are just going to have to settle with whatever version I come up with right now. The first few versions were full of apologies and words implying I didn’t actually mean what I said, but this version is going to be more honest. Hope that works for you.

  You do smell good. You do have a very nice smile. You don’t need to be fixed (although I was probably stretching it with the whole perfect part. Nobody's perfect. Otherwise there would be no reason to live. But the general sentiment was true). Your emails feel like home to me too. That doesn’t mean it’s not mushy, but it means it’s true, and right about now I could use some truth.

  It wasn’t Michael Myers at my door, although considering half the campus is getting ready for Halloween already it wasn’t a bad guess. It wasn’t a Michael at all. Although, it was someone that scares me nearly as much. Someone who has the ability to mess up my life in more ways than I probably even know. And no I don’t mean my mother, although she has her hand in all of this.

  Ever feel like you’re on a boat destined to sink? I’m sure you have at some point. I think that’s called growing up, but right now I feel like my boat is headed straight for an iceberg. I should probably jump off and try swimming back to shore, but that might just be worse. Sorry, I know I’m rambling, but you seem to be the only one I can be remotely open with anymore. Jackie isn’t even returning my calls. Ten years of BFF land disappeared a few weeks into college. I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s got a new boyfriend. She usually disappears when that happens, but this feels different. It feels more permanent somehow. And the thing is, I don’t care as much as I should. And all this rambling does have a point. It’s why I got drunk last night. I needed to escape for a few hours. Obviously it wasn’t the best idea, but if I was going to drunk email anyone, I’m glad it’s you.

  You love art. You’ll find your way. Maybe eat the hummus? I’d love to see you actually do that. ;) I’m completely down for collaborating on a children’s book. Maybe it can be about a bunch of hipster cats who fly to the moon in a sparkly red rocket ship. I’m not sure where that idea came from, but now I feel the urge to write their story. Do you think we should throw a dog or bunny in for good measure?

  You Jump, I jump, Jack,

  Fern

  P.S. I’m not sure you can handle knowing what’s in the dreams. I’ll have to test you first.

  P.P.S. My roommate saw a picture of you and thinks you have cool eyes. We finally agree on one thing.

  P.P.P.S. Since you brought up Mike Myers, which brings up Halloween, what are you going to be this year?

  9

  September 5

  Subject: Steer Around…

  I wish it hadn't taken me so long to get back to you. I feel bad but a lot has been going on.

  I did a little soul-searching the last couple of days and decided majoring in art history wasn't for me. While I do like art and history, the combination they have going for their program here wasn't for me. I'm more of a hands-on type guy.

  Which is why I switched to…*drum roll*...Preservation and Design.

  I still get to deal with art and history, but now I'll be actually preserving pieces and places. It seems more meaningful somehow. Plus, the architecture of the city is already something that calls to me. Now I get to dig a little deeper and get my hands dirty. There's an old plantation house on the outskirts of the city, and the new owner has sanctioned us to restore. I don't know much about the place other
than whoever previously owned it recently passed away. This twenty-something-year-old woman inherited it. She knows a lot about art and history–apparently, it’s a passion of hers. I think it's pretty cool she's allowing the college to take on the massive project of restoring the place. I'm not sure yet how grades will be determined, but I can say I’ve never been more excited to go to school than I am now. Switching majors was the best decision I've made in a long time.

  Okay, now that I've told you my good news, I need to get something off my chest. Your last email worried me. Who could possibly scare you? You’re fearless Fern. Seriously though, do I need to pay someone at UGA a visit? I have a pretty mean right hook.

  Say the word and I'll be there.

  About the whole iceberg and boat thing, don't just smash into it...You have to find a way to navigate around. You're too strong not to. Don’t think about sinking, it’s a dark hole to get out of. Don’t think about swimming back, because you know as well as I do a person can never go back the way they came. And don't worry about Jackie. I always thought she was a dud anyway. I know you two were tight, but I never cared much for her. Maybe I have a biased opinion of her, but it’s only because I never thought you should have to work so hard to be her friend. Maybe permanent is good in this case. Sometimes we have to cut toxic people out of our lives. In this case, it seems like going away to college and her getting a boyfriend did the trick. Consider yourself lucky.

  I'm glad you drunk emailed me too. Drinking to escape every now and then is okay, but don't let it become a habit. Promise me. You know how I feel about that. You know all the fucked up stories about my dad. Alcoholism is a real thing. Don’t let it get you.

  At the risk of sounding completely cheesy, talk to me. Email me. Text me. Call me. Anything. I'm always here for you. You do know that, right? If you don’t feel like talking to me then throw yourself into your poetry. You were always doing that. Please don't check yourself into a creepy hotel and write repetitive random shit because you’ve gone nuts, though. Also, stay away from little kids who write REDRUM on mirrors.

  Holder

  P.S. I can handle anything you toss at me. Test away…

  P.P.S. I do have cool eyes. Your roommate has good taste. So do you, apparently.

  P.P.P.S. Halloween. My favorite holiday. Usually I know what I'm going to be a year in advance but not this year. I haven't decided yet, believe it or not. This city has my mind spinning with cool possibilities though. What about you?

  10

  September 8

  Subject: Roadtrips

  I’m still alive. I promise. This must be the week for delayed responses. My excuse isn’t quite as cool as yours, so let’s start with you.

  If I had a dirty mind I’d make a joke about your hands-on comment, but my mind is squeaky clean. Too bad, I bet someone else could have come up with a really good one too. ;)

  Preservation and Design sounds way more interesting than Art History. It has a more active component to it that fits you better. That plantation house project sounds awesome. I’m so happy you made the change. Maybe I’ll get to see the house if I come visit. I mapped it out. Savannah is less than four hours from here. That’s a nice short road trip. If I do come visit, I’ll be very careful about the hotel I stay at. No redrum kids for me.

  Speaking of road trips, that’s kind of why I haven’t written back. I got kidnapped for a pledge retreat. No phones, no computers, not even a notebook and a pen. It wasn’t awful, but I’m not good at being surprised like that. I like having time to plan things out. The planning is half the fun of the trip, isn’t it? To make up for being robbed of the planning for this one, I started coming up with other trips I could take. Maybe we can do one together one day. How about we head out to Pacific Playground? It would even be worth running into some zombies. Hmm, zombies, maybe that’s what I’ll be for Halloween. My roommate is really good with makeup. She could help me pull it off. She doesn’t seem to hate me anymore. Who knew a discussion over your eyes could smooth things over between us? Of course she also thinks I’m into you, and therefore not into the guy she likes. Wait, I never told you about that. Turns out the sorority thing was only part of the problem. She’s also into the Andrew guy. Can you imagine that? We’re supposed to hang out as a group on Friday night. I’m hoping they hit it off, thus solving two problems for me.

  See, I’m okay. I’ve just been emotional lately. But maybe that’s a good thing. I’m usually really good at hiding my true feelings, but I don’t feel like I have to with you. Maybe that’s a sign of something. What I don’t know yet.

  You sure you can handle the truth of my dreams? I’ll start it off easy. In one dream you and I run off to the circus. Can you guess what act we do?

  Eagerly waiting to ride a rollercoaster with you,

  Fern

  P.S. I love the steering analogy. It’s going to be my new mantra.

  11

  September 9

  Subject: You were kidnapped?

  Glad to hear from you again. I have to admit, after the last email you sent I was beginning to worry. Realized I don’t have your cell number anymore. Did you change it when you moved to UGA?

  Sounds like I didn’t need to worry, though. You were only kidnapped for a road trip...sounds like fun. Kidding. Although, not really. It actually does sound awesome. You said you wanted to live life so you could write a more interesting memoir. Now you can say you have. See, college is good for something.

  P&D has definitely been a great change. I’m enjoying working on the plantation house with the others more than I thought I would. My professor is this scrawny guy with salt and pepper hair who smells like vanilla tobacco. He reminds me of a safari guide or something. I think it’s the clothes. He’s always dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a white, short-sleeved button-up shirt that looks practically see-through. Which is kind of gross...

  I’d love for you to come visit the plantation when we’re done restoring it. It’ll be a while though. The place is really rundown. I don’t think it’s been lived in for ages. At least that’s what Annabelle says. You’d like her by the way. She’s the owner of the place and is pretty cool. For someone who’s so young, she sure does have a way with words and knows a lot about everything. She reminds me of you. Not only because of knowing everything, but because of her way with words. She’s sort of got an old fashioned vocabulary. We’ve been hanging out some. Not much. But some.

  As for all your emotional stuff going on, I’ll tell you a secret: being emotional is part of being a girl.

  Laugh. You know you want to. It was a joke.

  On a serious note, you don’t ever have to hide things from me. You can tell me anything, Fern. I’ve already said this before. We know each other so well, why would you not tell me something? And of course I can handle your dreams. After all, that’s all they are. Dreams. They aren’t prophecies or anything. Right? Please tell me you're not hiding something as cool as that from me.

  A circus you say? Hmmm...were we the tightrope act? That would be cool as shit. Then at least we could spit on the clowns from up high. And pop all the red balloons. I know how much they freak you out thanks to your favorite movie. Hahaha!

  Do they really all float down there, Georgie?

  Holder

  P.S. The steering analogy is all yours.

  P.P.S. A road trip sounds awesome. You’re only 4 hrs away? We’ve got to meet up sometime, even if it’s only halfway.

  P.P.P.S. Glad your roommate problems are nearly fixed. Let her think you’re into me. I don’t mind.

  P.P.P.P.S. Why am I doing the all this P.S. stuff? Look what you started! Is this one even a thing? Four P’s?

  12

  September 10

  Subject: Tigers and Elephants

  Holder,

  Do you think your first name fits you? I think so. When you care about something you hold onto it. I bet you’re also good at holding people. And no, I’m not drunk again, even though it’s after midnight. I’m takin
g your claim that I can tell you anything at face value. If you change your mind, kindly let me know.