Hey, guys. Here’s this thing that I wrote 100 years ago about true love and supernatural murder. You may remember it. If you don’t, please enjoy. If you do, try and pay attention this time!
1. I had never really believed in the concept of love at first sight. I thought the entire concept was too romantic to really exist outside of the fluffy pink Parisian settings of 1960s Technicolor yarns. I tried to rationalize the feeling that I had for her the moment I laid my eyes on her by interpreting them as lust. My mind wouldn’t allow me to. I couldn’t defile her, even in dreams. All I could do was admit that I’d been in love with her since the moment I saw her.
2. I heard them inside the cabin—laughing, drinking. They were having a great time. I’d seen this all before. Eventually they would pair off for sex. Some would get high first. There was always an odd man out. He’d stay behind and get higher than the others. He’d be the first to go. There was no reason to get too fancy with him. He’d be too stoned to do anything and the others would mark any sound he made up to general tomfoolery if they even heard him. The goal was to keep this one quick and quiet and move him out of sight. No reason to guild the lily.
3. When I dreamed about her I became short of breath. When I thought of how I could never have her, I’d almost cry. I knew that she loved me too, though not in the same way. We’d spend time together and I’d have to stop myself from touching her. She was beautiful and too kind. I was safe and overly friendly. She saw something in me that made her remain so I tried my best not to ruin it by being myself. There was pain.
4. I’m not sure people are aware of how strong a person has to be and how sharp your machete has to be to take a person’s head off in one swipe. It’s a task, but it is possible. It is an impressive sight to behold and to achieve. I feel that for the sake of the good work, though, it’s a better idea to go in with the weapon a little less sharp so I have to hack away a few times. At the end of the day, the effort is seen as dramatic and that much more frightening. Since fright is the means to eventually keeping these damn kids away from my lake, hard and dirty is always a better choice than quick and stylish. It took a while for me to realize this but we were all young once, right?
5. She came to see me tonight. She’d just finished working out and was wearing small tan shorts. She sat on my kitchen counter and had a sandwich she’d brought with her. I watched her eat and smile and laugh and talk. She was so sexy that I almost cried. I realized two things: she had no idea how I felt about her and I am always on the verge of tears. I had a bit of tequila that I talked her into sharing with me and offered her a cigarette that I didn’t have to persuade her too forcefully to take. We sat outside my place and talked about how we’d try and make our lives better. She thanked me for listening and went home to her man.
6. Once while I was hiding out near a bunch of kids and their camp fire, I heard them tell a tale that they said was my legend. Apparently, I was a weakling camper that was bullied by not only the other kids but by the counselors as well. During a prank gone horribly wrong, I was burned to death. I came back, though—and since I’ve been murdering anyone stupid enough or unlucky enough to venture into my camp. The story was totally insane and completely inaccurate. Still, there was something about it that I liked. I was glad that people talked about me but I was upset that they didn’t believe enough to stay away. The local authorities were either completely inept or they wanted to see these kids die. No other reasoning made sense to me. I even killed the occasional deputy to try and light a fire underneath them but it never worked. Stupidity held sway and I always had a fresh crop of idiots to slay.
7. We kissed constantly in my dreams—deep, hard, passionate kisses stolen while no one was around. I thought about one hundred different ways I could kiss her in real life but I was always too smart or scared to try it. I had told her that I loved her many times. She’d returned the sentiment. I wondered if she realized, even just a little, what I really meant. She never seemed to frown or look sad ever. She told me when she wasn’t happy and that things weren’t going the way she’d planned, but even with a slightly furrowed brow she remained sexy, beautiful, inspiring. I’m sure what I felt was written all over my face constantly. I didn’t have a poker face. I never tried to have one. I wanted her to see.
8. I spent over an hour positioning all of her dead friends around the cabin so that they would fall out, drop down and be discovered as she tried to find a place to hide. I know that all of this was completely unnecessary and that by doing this extra work I was just giving her more time to escape, but I believed in a little pizzazz in the home stretch.
Sometimes I wondered if deep down inside I was secretly rooting for them to escape. I wonder if I could be getting soft in my old age.
9. We fell out of touch for a while. It was for no particular reason. I was working and trying to figure out life and she was doing the same.
Unfortunately, this left little time for each other. There would be the occasional message about how we should get together, and they were sincere messages, but it just didn’t happen. Eventually, I stopped thinking so much about her. I still felt the same way, but it didn’t haunt me as much. I’d accepted the fact that I can’t have everyone I love. People drift in and out of your life and you have to be ready to lose them for whatever reason they are lost. That’s just the nature of things. Whether you like them to or not, people go away.
10. The kids kept coming and I kept killing them.
Machetes, shovels, arrows, bare hands. Beheading, impaling, evisceration, strangling. I don’t know what happened to the world. Once upon a time all you had to do was slaughter a few nubile young blondes and people left you alone. Now it doesn’t matter that you’re an undead emotionless mass murderer—they keep coming. Perhaps I’m the one that should let it all go. Maybe I should just walk to the bottom of the lake and stay there. Even if I did that, I bet they’d find a way to drag me out and I’d just have to kill everyone around. Again. That’s just the nature of things. No matter how much you try to make it happen, people just won’t go away.
J’Mel Davidson is the founder of a local improv comedy troupe called The Feminist Debutante Guild. You can send him the love—or dull farming implements—via email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.