I will no make any excuses for my actions, or try to cover the truth. The fact of the matter is, I sought him out.
I spent my childhood being deliciously frightened and exhilarated by the tales of him. His dark hypnotic eyes. His decrepit yet tragically beautiful castle. His sway over both man and beasts. By the time I was a young girl I was either madly in love with him or I was obsessed.
Probably both.
I wanted to study him. It became the driving force behind my acceptance to the University and the breakneck speed in which I graduated with my bachelors and the masters degrees. I never told anyone, not a soul what I was really studying. I wasn’t dumb. Uncovering the truth would have me laughed out of the field. So I told a half truth. I was interested in Ancient World Religion. They bought it. Everyone. When it came time for my PhD, I knew I needed something more than just books. I needed him. So I bought plane tickets and packed a single duffle bag.
It took over two months to make it there. I took a boat across the ocean. I took different trains across the mountainsides. It was a carriage of horses that delivered me close enough that I could hike the rest of the way. Yeah, I could have taken the easy route, but that just didn’t seem right.
As I stood at the base of his castle, his home, I was for the first time…afraid. Not that I wouldn’t find him. I knew he’d be there. I could feel it in my bones, the very core of me. I was afraid of rejection.
It was late in the evening and I knew the night would be cold, so I mustered my courage and went to the door.
It didn’t open with a creak, give any resistance or even shed any dust. It simply opened.
There was a fire burning in the hearth. I was expected.
Julie M Anderson 