John Rals isn't an immortal vampire, but he plays one on TV and his real life is even better. He's got the money, the hot rockstar boyfriend, and if his award collection gets any larger, he's going to need a bigger penthouse apartment. A near-fatal injury in the prime of his career results in a bizarre case of mistaken identity and he wakes up convinced that he's really Carter, a long-forgotten character from his early career.
Confused and alienated from his own life, John turns to the only person who seems to remember Carter. Aiden might be a crazy fan, but his letters soon become John's only tether to a world everyone else has forgotten. Can a fictional character and a formerly obsessed fanboy create something real together, or will John's past come back to haunt them both?
My throat is tight and dry by the time I finish reading the letter and the coffee does nothing to help. There are so many emotions swirling around my head that I can't even think straight enough to pin one down.
In that moment, my mind is made up. I have to find Aiden. I have to see that smile in person, even if it isn't for me. These letters have become a tether to the reality I lost and the only thing that's keeping me afloat in this one. I can guess what my therapist is going to have to say about it, but I don't care.
I tear through the other boxes in a frantic search for another letter and as luck would have it there's one from Aiden near the top of the pile. This one is opened. I guess security started screening them by the point it was sent. Nothing falls out, but it's hard to tell if that's because he didn't enclose one of his quirky little gifts or because someone took it. The thought of what it might have been is driving me insane and it furthers my desire to find him.
Like I needed another reason.
This letter is short, too, even shorter than the last. My hands tremble and I take a second to steady them, afraid I'll rip the page.
I'm so sorry. I guess the "Save Our Show" campaign wasn't enough. I feel like I let you down. We all do. There's talk of the show maybe getting picked up by another network. If NLC was dumb enough to let the show go after season three, they can get fucked.
Sorry for the profanity. I'm in a great mood as of late. My grandfather isn't doing well. Kind of came out of nowhere. There's a rumor about a new auto parts shop being built off the highway that's probably going to take away a lot of our business, too. When it rains it pours, huh?
God, this letter is depressing. I probably won't even send it. If I can muster a shred of dignity through the night, I'll rip it to shreds before the post goes out tomorrow. I guess I just wanted you to know that I won't stop watching. It won't be the same, but I'll be watching and hoping that whatever spark it is that makes you so special as a character will show up in the other roles John takes.
Time to break out the box sets for some repeat binge watching. It's way cheaper than therapy, you know.
Till next time,
My heart sinks as the letter reaches an end. I don't like the fact that his salutation has changed, but at least it doesn't sound final. Supposedly there's a letter where he chewed me out, anyway, if it didn't get lost. I search through the box with renewed desperation, but it takes emptying the contents of two more boxes onto the floor before I find another Aiden letter. It's postmarked last year.
I'm torn between the need to know what the last letter says and being paralyzed with fear. It was sent just a week after Bobby's death. How much has changed in that year?
L.C. Davis has been writing since he can remember. He started out jotting down tales about his imaginary friends in spiral notebooks and an old typewriter. Since then, he’s upgraded to a laptop but he still prefers the company of his characters to 3D people most of the time.
When he isn’t watching 90s sitcoms and Sci-Fi with his partner, you can find L.C. attempting to write while his two cats and fluffy lunkhead of a dog vie for his attention. He enjoys getting feedback from readers and can be contacted on Goodreads or at email@example.com.