The deserted road runs past high stone walls with white wooden gates. We are driving behind two cars, it's rush hour and traffic is heavy. Soon we're through and away from all the other cars. The road for some reason feels so much more secure than the one behind it.
We drive on for a while. The road descends into a valley and becomes a narrow, twisting track; trees form a canopy above. We're driving slowly, but the car feels as if it's skimming through the air. Right then and there, I know that this is where we're going.
I've always been a dreamer, always been someone who daydreams, I think. As if by magic—of which I know, is non-existent—I can see the white gate up ahead, in my mind. We pull up to the trees and climb down.
Already the trees, the air, and the feel of the place is giving me a sense of deja vu. Are vampires real? It's too much to ask, I know. They don't exist.
Or do they? Are they waiting for us?
I press my hand to the white wooden gate.
"It's still warm," I say. "Whoever lives here must have been here only a few minutes ago. They must have heard us coming and hid. I wonder… What if they don't want us to know their secret? Who are these people? What is this place?"
"It looks deserted," says Father. "What do you think, Aunt Claire?"
"Well, there's no gate; it must have been locked. No way for random people to get in."
"I don't think it's a vampire lair," offers Jill. "If it was, it would have been left open with some gruesome sign saying, 'Go in through the back so we don't have to keep track of you.' No, this looks like someone's private hideout. It's so abandoned it's concealed. So what am I thinking, what does that mean?"
"Means the people don't want to be found," says Julius.
"Means it's an ideal place for filming," says the director.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," says Paul. "Means the gate's locked, the trees are very thick, and it's a good place to hide. I think it's a vampire haunt."
"Vampires don't exist!" I say. "Or do they?"
"Clearly, you've seen all those awful romantic vampire movies. Do vampires eat their victims after they've drained them of blood?" says Julius.
"I mean, I've only seen some of those movies, and they all make vampires look really bad," I say.
"Well, they do, but they're based on true stories," says Aunt Claire. "And what I've been reading on the Internet. I've waded through so many links, it's kind of scary. Then I found your story in our file and—
I stop to read aloud my story. At first, I think I shouldn't share this private story of mine with Aunt Claire and Julius, but when I get to the part about the vampire, I decide to share it.
"It's not my story," I say. "It's just fiction. I made it up as I was writing. I do that sometimes when I'm writing a story. I make up stories as I go along; then later I fit them in. Usually, I re-write the parts later. But this one is about a guy and girl falling in love, but I always doubted whether I should include it in my story. I even cut it from the original draft. After you read it, do you think maybe it was a mistake?"
"I think it's a good idea," says Jill. "It adds to the suspense. We can't figure out whether the driver is a vampire or not. It makes it more exciting."
"Your story is excellent," says Aunt Claire. "It's long and it has depth, and it's exciting. As a reader, I did find myself wondering what would happen next. The more I read, the more I wanted to know what happens next."
"Your intelligence is to be admired," says the director. "You've included information that adds to the believability of the story. And did you realize when you write your books that they fulfill all the criteria of a horror story?"
"I…I have no idea what you're talking about, anymore. What do you mean, 'horror story'?"
"First, you have a ghost. There's a spirit or a ghost haunting that girl, this Tanya," says Aunt Claire. "Second, there's a vampire. And most of those stories are a mix of genres. Shakespeare's Hamlet is a mix of horror and drama."
"I'm not a writer who is knowledgeable about the craft of writing—I mean, there's so much more to it than just seeing how much you can pack within a certain number of pages… I mean, I know writers are always under intense pressure to meet deadlines and all, but…," I say.
"Your book is excellent," Aunt Claire interrupts. "Fiction can be a writer's escape from their reality. And I have a feeling that you'll be an excellent writer. Your imagination is so vivid—very real, as if you are actually there, experiencing the events as they are happening. I do strongly recommend you finish your story, with or without the romance. Do you think you might ever finish it?"
"I do," I say. "I—I haven't had a computer for nine months, but recently I printed out the deleted parts from my first draft, and I plan to type them out."
"Er, maybe I don't want to leave this place," says Paul. "If there are vampires, maybe there are other ghosts here, too. This place is so awesome. I want to live here!"
"It is awesome," agrees Jill. "Okay, maybe we won't film here, with all this chance of a vampire attack, but this place is so atmospheric. And I agree with Paul; it would make an awesome movie set, perhaps even a horror movie set. I don't care much for horror films, myself, but this place would make an awesome horror location."
"Let's get back to the van and leave this place. We'll return with empty cars later, with the curtains closed on the windows, to give the place more of a ghostly feel," says the director. "This is a great idea, this place. It's so hidden I can't imagine anyone finding it. If no one knows about it, of course, you could use this place to make sure no one finds it."
"Okay, you guys act like you're never going to see your families again. I'll get your car keys. I don't know why I can't feel anything here, but I can't. I wish I knew what was happening here."
"I'd like to know why you don't feel anything," says Jill. "It's such an awesome place. I can feel it—the presence of evil. I'm an actress. I can feel it—like the vibe of evil—but only if it's close to me. And here, it's so close."
"I can't tell if it's here. I don't feel anything strong. I think I'm being rationally logical about this. What if there is a high concentration of evil here? What if it seeps into the atmosphere and covers us with evil, like a poisonous fog?"
"I'm going to get these keys," I say, as I start to walk away. "I'll be back with the car keys again. I'll be right back."
"I feel something, like a cold chill passing through the air," says Jill. "It's created a negation, like a negative charge."
"I feel something too," says Paul. "You two are making a big deal about nothing. I don't feel anything. I'm going to go help Julius with the actor. We're just here to film. There's nothing else going on."
