To Winnifred
Chapter
My name is Brian Finn.
A … less than accomplished film director.
With the meager talents given to me by God, I’ve made films that defy classification as either good or bad.
Yet, I’ve never managed to create a film I can truly call my own.
Now, even the generosity of the divine has reached its end.
(Bedroom)
Brian
- *cough*
His rough hand trembles as it gropes around.
It runs over the table’s edge, brushes past a half-open medicine box, knocks over an uncapped pen, but never reaches its intended destination.
Illia
- Dad, stop looking through those old film reels. Dr. David said you should be resting in bed!
- Besides, your work’s already won over all those investors, and they’re sharper than Wall Street’s finest.
- What regrets could you possibly have left?
Her brother speaks up, his pride in his father’s achievements ringing in his voice.
Robin
- Yeah, Dad, the critics have nothing but praise for your movies, especially New England Dream!
The old man’s hand lingers in the air.
Brian
- No, my dear boy. New England Dream is the biggest regret of my life.
- Forty years squandered on that thing, and I still never truly completed it.
- The editing alone took up years of my life.
- But no matter how many changes I made, I couldn’t fill that emptiness. That failure has haunted me for decades. To this very day, in fact.
Illia
- …
Brian
- At this point, I have no choice but to confess that I failed to capture the essence of a true vampire.
- Not even … Not even a sliver of that elusive inspiration.
The old man becomes agitated, sparking a coughing fit.
Brian
- Compared to the vampire I saw, it lacks something vital, some essential element.
Robin
- But what could that be, Dad?
Brian
- *cough* I … I don’t know.
A hushed silence falls in the bedroom. Even the sound of Brian’s hurried breaths is fading.
They are becoming slow and intermittent, as if they might cease at any moment.
A profound regret weighs heavily upon each breath.
Brian
- …
- Son, would you get me my notebook from the desk?
- Yes, and turn it to the latest page.
Robin
- Yes, Dad. I’ll get it right away.
The boy hastens out the door, while the girl looks at her father with a melancholy gaze, her face etched with concern.
Illia
- But your eyes …
Brian
- Heh. Don’t worry about me, Illia.
His eyes have long lost their vitality. They are embedded in deep, wrinkled sockets.
Brian
- It’s been my faithful companion for many years. Even with these failing eyes of mine, I can still read the thing through touch alone.
Robin
- Dad, here. Here it is.
Robin carefully places the notebook in his father’s hand.
Brian
- Ah, yes, this is far more useful than any concoction of pills. Don’t you agree, old friend?
With some effort, he steadies his frail frame.
Brian
- I still need you to document everything faithfully. At least for now, anyway.
- We have one last journey to make—the final stretch.
- *cough” Now, where should I begin?
- This tale begins in New England, I believe.
- Back then, I was young, timid, and filled with fear of the unknown.
- Until …
(1930s, New England)
A cabin, nestled between dense woods and a lake. A common sight in any horror film.
Moss climbs the windowsills and eaves of the cabin’s exterior, as if silently repelling any visitors.
Sadly, it does nothing to repel young, reckless children.
Tom
- D**n! You reckon there’s really a witch here brewing potions from baby hair?
Jared
- Haha! What kind of baloney are you talking about now?
- I heard there’s a vampire hanging around in these woods. You know, the kind that has fangs with hollow tips so it can pierce the skin on your neck and suck your blood.
He places his hand on the quivering shoulder beside him.
Jared
- Good grief! Would you look at our Little Brian? If he shivered any faster, he could be a hand-crank operator at my uncle’s generator factory!
Tom
- I bet he’s already got a fresh diaper at the ready!
Brian
- C-Cut it out, guys.
- We should head back. I really don’t want to fall behind on Mrs. Madison’s homework.
Jared pats him on the shoulder and pushes him forward.
Jared
- Don’t worry, Little Brian. Legend has it that the vampire’s keen on blood from strapping young men, not scrawny little monkeys!
Tom
- Hah. Then Brian will be the safest one among us!
The pressure on Brian’s shoulder intensifies.
Brian
- That l-legend’s probably a bunch of hooey, right?
Tom
- Hahaha! Of course it is!
Jared
- Yeah, so what are you so afraid of, Little Brian?
A breeze blows past the door, causing it to creak creepily.
Tom
- Off you go, good sir! Take a gander deeper inside for us and say, “How do you do?” to Mr. Vampire!
The shove from behind sends Brian staggering forward.
He falls into an even more sinister-looking room, hitting his head on the corner of a table.
Brian
- Ahh!
Tom
- Oh, look what you’ve done now, you klutz! You’ve scared off all the critters!
Brian
- Ouch … My head …
Jared
- Bye-bye, Little Brian. We’ll be waiting for your triumphant return to town.
The door slams shut.
Brian
- Don’t leave me here! You can’t do this to me. I don’t want to be eaten by a vampire!
His head spins as his consciousness slips away into darkness.
Brian
- Ugh …
A loud, rumbling sound approaches from afar.
Brian
- That noise … It feels like my head’s about to explode. Good lord, is that an earthquake?!
Blue.
A subtle blue seeps into the room.
From under the bed. Through the cracks in the wooden floor.
Brian
- You are …?
- Am I hallucinating? Or is this …
- Is there really a vampire living here?!
Blue ripples wash over the walls. The desk, the lamp, and the wooden chair are all tinged with its cool hue.
They pick themselves up and start moving. They dance in the endless blue, eventually surrounding the young boy.
It is as if they have been brought to life.
???
- Hm?
???
- You don’t look too well, my uninvited friend.
- Need a hand?
Brian
- I-I … um … y-you …
- Are you a vampire?
The angel-faced woman seems uninclined to answer.
???
- Hah! Clearly, you’re in desperate need of a good rest.
The blue has reached his temples, blanketing everything in sight.
He gives in, sinking into slumber and returning to tranquility.
Brian
- I’ve never forgotten what I saw that day.
- I firmly believe that in that cramped little cabin, I saw a true vampire.
- She was so beautiful, so captivating, and brimming with a passion for life.
- That was our first encounter.
- After that, I fantasized countless times about meeting her again.
- Until …
- Back then, I was young, timid, and filled with fear of the unknown.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
Brian
- The war came, forcing all of us to put aside childish things and grow up—myself included.
- It was a cruel and solemn mass farewell.
- It forced every one of us to say goodbye to our dreams, to the past, and to the world we knew.
- Before I knew it, I was conscripted and boarded an army jeep, venturing into foreign lands.
(1940s, Officers’ Club)
The atmosphere rises amidst the clinking of glasses, as if everyone should toast to the victory at hand …
… while they still can.
Officer I
- Cheers, gents!
He drains his glass in one gulp.
Officer II
- To a brighter tomorrow!
- Sergeant Finn, why the hell are ya still clutching that little book of yours? You ain’t writing sweet nothings to a dame back home, are ya?!
Brian
- …
Officer I
- Come on, there’s nothing wrong with that! And I can tell you now, Pete, when you get back home, you’ll be spinning tales even taller than Brian here!
- Go ahead and write whatever you want, Brian, and don’t forget to mention the part where I led the charge.
He slaps Brian’s shoulder heartily. Brian clutches his notebook.
Brian
- This isn’t a letter; it’s my research.
Officer II
- Oh, now that’s something ya don’t hear every day! Lemme have a look!
He strides forward, snatching the notebook from Brian’s hands.
Brian
- Hey! They’re just a few rough ideas! It’s not finished yet!
The other man doesn’t seem to care.
Officer II
- “A compilation of data on mysterious vampires …”
- Haha, you ain’t got a torch for our Miss Julia, have ya?
- I’ll admit, she’s got a gentle touch when she’s bandaging us up, and the way she draws blood is very light! I almost fell asleep the last time she did it.
Officer I
- Tough luck, Brian. You’ve got more rivals here than a dog has fleas.
Officer II
- But I’m sure comparing Miss Julia to a vampire would earn you a sock on the jaw from some of the straighter shooters in this squad.
They look at Brian with pity, as if mourning this lost cause.
Brian
- This isn’t for Julia.
Brian shakes his head firmly, a serious expression on his face.
Brian
- Being called a vampire is hardly insulting! They’re symbols of beauty, purity, and everlasting life.
Officer I
- Haha, you say that, but have you ever even laid eyes on a real vampire?
Officer II
- They’re just made-up stories I believed when I was a kid.
- But I’ll grant ya that they’re pretty handy for spooking the little rascals!
Brian
- …
- I’ve seen a real vampire.
They fall into a brief silence.
Officer I
- …
Officer II
- …
Then, a burst of raucous laughter.
Officer II
- I gotta hand it to ya, Sergeant Finn; your sense of humor’s something else. You’ve got a real knack for story-telling!
Brian
- I’m being serious. When I was a kid, I saw her.
- Ever since then, I’ve been on the hunt for more information about her, even just the slightest sliver.
- She was perfect. Everything I could ever imagine. Just like—
Officer I
- Haha, what are you looking at?
Officer II
- Brian, ya don’t think there’s a vampire lurking somewhere at this shindig, do ya?
Brian scans the room, eagerly seeking to validate his claim.
The club is bustling with people. The heavy conversation and crisscrossing lights make his head spin.
As Brian’s eyes sweep the room, he abruptly comes to a halt.
???
- What a delight it is to see you here again, Mrs. Kate.
Kate
- Isn’t it just? It’s been ages since we last saw each other!
- Oh, how I envy you, Winnifred. You haven’t aged a bit!
Winnifred
- Heh. Time does have an elusive magic, doesn’t it?
Brian’s hands begin to tremble. He rubs his eyes in disbelief.
He tries to speak, but the lump in his throat says otherwise. Then he croaks out.
Brian
- It’s her …
Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s striding toward her.
Officer I
- Hey, Brian, what’s the big idea?
He tugs at Brian’s sleeve, his voice lowered.
Officer I
- Have you lost it, man?! I know she’s a looker—even more so than Miss Julia—but that lady’s way out of our league.
- I spied her over in the commander’s office. Even the top brass tip their hats to her.
Officer II
- I hear she’s a special guest of our munitions supplier. Even got ties to the underground here, apparently. Ya better kiss that pipe dream goodbye.
He grabs the air where the cuff of Brian’s shirt should be, but it is already gone.
Officer II
- …?
Brian is now standing in front of her, the notebook in his hand trembling violently.
Brian
- Ahem. Hello … ma’am.
Winnifred
- Hmm …?
- Hello, sir. That was quite the entrance.
She smiles gently, seemingly used to such disturbances.
Brian
- Oh, please accept my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to offend you; it’s just …
- You look just like someone I met a long time ago.
Winnifred
- Heh … Not exactly the slickest line I’ve ever heard.
- Sir, if you hope to make new acquaintances, I sincerely suggest you choose a less clichéd opener next time.
Brian
- I’m gathering information on vampires. That’s why I had to talk to you.
The lady before him chuckles ambiguously.
Winnifred
- You catch on quick.
- But do I really look like a vampire? Perhaps it’s because of my striking white hair?
- It is saddening when those noble ladies pester me to reveal the secret behind maintaining such a style.
Brian
- No, no, you misunderstand.
- I believe that vampires are a special race possessing advantages ordinary people don’t.
- For instance, using human blood as nourishment allows them to gain stronger physiques and, more importantly, maintain their vitality and appearance for much longer.
- They’re the embodiment of beauty and the favored children of God.
Winnifred
- That’s quite an imaginative theory.
- But it doesn’t quite align with medical science, does it?
She downs her drink in one swig.
Winnifred
- The creatures that most closely resemble your description are bats. They feed on human blood and are active at night, but they don’t gain long lives or beautiful faces in doing so.
- On the contrary, they’re filthy and germ-ridden, making them one of the animals we despise most. Even in the realm of arcane biology, no such individuals exist.
- If there is, in fact, a race capable of eternal life, they would be marred by ugliness and prone to disease.
- I, on the other hand, have heard some more substantial tales.
Brian
- …?
Winnifred
- The Rusalki by the water’s edge.
- They have long flowing hair, snatch up sailors, and plunder their ships to maintain their appearance. Of course, rather than indulging in hearsay, you could always venture north and see them for yourself.
Brian
- But I swear, I’ve seen you before.
Winnifred
- Hush!
- If you don’t want to be seen as an agent of the underworld or a spy dispatched by an arms dealer, stop attracting so much attention.
- Those people are all ruthless extremists. They don’t want anyone more than necessary to be mixed up in emerging intelligence.
- It’d be better for the both of us.
Brian
- Thank you.
Brian looks around. His companions are still waving at him from afar.
Brian
- Nevertheless, I still believe that vampires exist. I won’t give up.
He nods and makes to leave.
Winnifred
- Wait … young man …
It’s an exquisitely crafted business card, with both deep and shallow patterns reflected on it. It feels almost watery to the touch.
Brian
- …!
Winnifred
- Take it.
Brian
- Winnifred … ma’am … My name’s Brian!
Winnifred
- Very good, Mr. Brian.
- Maybe one day we’ll do business together.
Brian
- Ah … Right.
Brian, momentarily stunned, realizes that she has already vanished without a trace.
He places the business card into his breast pocket, carefully smoothing out the creases.
Brian
- But …
- Did I really remember it all wrong?
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
Brian
- Everything that happened that night vanished almost as abruptly as it appeared.
- Except for the card that remained pressed against my chest.
- Due to a number of events, I never did go looking for that woman named Winnifred. Of course, I continued to collect everything I could about vampires, despite the rest of the world seeing this as a total waste of time.
- Eventually, even the ribbing from my comrades quietened down. Some died on the battlefield, while others went missing, never to be heard from again.
- It seemed as though everything around me was silently saying that our previous encounter was nothing more than an ephemeral shadow. Something not even worth remembering.
- The war raged on, shoving one young life after another into the fray. They rushed to the battlefield and never once looked back.
- And of course, that included yours truly.
- It wasn’t long before I, too, felt the effects of war. During an offensive on an enemy outpost, I caught a stray bullet to the chest.
- And of course, that included yours truly.
- I was rushed to a field hospital, but to the doctor’s surprise, the wound wasn’t serious. Other than some scrapes and the usual chronic joint ache from too much marching, I was fine.
- It was the card nestled against my chest. It stopped the bullet.
- When the bullet struck, there was a warm sensation in my chest and a kind of soothing vibration.
- I spent a long time after that racking my brain.
- But I could never remember … On that night, when the mysterious Winnifred handed that card to me, had it been as solid and lustrous and with such a deep sea-blue sheen as it was that day when I was shot?
For a moment, the steady ticking of the clock on the wall is the only sound in the room.
Illia
- You never told us any of this before.
Robin
- Right! These stories are amazing! A card that protected you in the heat of battle. Boy! How I wish I could’ve seen it!
The boy’s face is alight with wonder.
Brian
- *cough, cough*
- I’m sorry, my boy. You’ll probably never get to see it. I lost it sometime later during my work.
Robin
- Oh … Was that when you were a director?
The old man’s eyes close, as if sifting through decades of trivial memories.
Brian
- I don’t think so. Back then, I was busy trying to make ends meet. I carried my notebook everywhere, hoping to find a job.
Robin
- But later on, you made it, didn’t you?
Robin cocks his head up, full of pride in his father.
Brian
- That, too, was fate, my boy. In the face of the divine, all we can do is accept God’s plan.
- Ever since I survived on the battlefield, I never doubted the mission God had bestowed upon me. He inspired me to continue my search for vampires until the end of my life.
As he speaks, a rare flush colors the old man’s face, reminiscent of his once reckless and stubborn self.
Illia
- …
- Don’t you think you should rest for a bit?
Brian shakes his head.
Brian
- Time stops for no one, my dear. And right now, it’s not on my side.
He turns to the next page in his notebook.
Brian
- When the war ended, I was discharged.
- It was then that I enrolled at the University of Southern California to study film.
- I had hoped to create a film—one that belonged to the vampires and to me.
(House)
Danny
- Now listen, Brian, tomorrow’s your big shot—your first solo shoot. Don’t screw it up, capisce?
Brian
- Huh?
Danny
- …
- These highfalutin’ dames wantin’ their own silver screen moment—they’re out of our league, man. They don’t give a d**n about your vampire flick fantasies, and they sure as hell ain’t planning to play a part in your picture, d’you savvy?
Brian
- Yes, Mr. Danny.
Danny
- If the brass gets wind of any more beef where you’re concerned, you’ll be out on the street—and you can take your cockamamie dreams with ya!
Brian quietly tucks his notebook into his pocket.
Danny
- Buckle down, ‘cause tomorrow’s client is loaded. The film industry’s in the pits right now, and scratching up a job ain’t a walk in the park. Without the dough from this job, you’ll never get your dreams off the ground.
He gives Brian a symbolic slap on the shoulder.
Brian
- …
Maid
- Mr. Brian … Mr. Brian?
- The lady of the house is ready for you. She’s waiting in the drawing room.
Brian
- Ah, thank you—I’ll be right there.
He shakes his head, hastily putting away his notebook.
He takes a deep breath and hurries to the drawing room.
*knock, knock*
Brian
- Ma’am, are you in there?
- I’m Brian from Divine Union Pictures. I’m here to shoot your film.
???
- Enter.
Brian
- It seemed that this was just another one of God’s little jokes.
- When I least expected it, the gears of fate locked in place once again.
- And as they turned, the noise nearly deafened me.
Winnifred
- Nice to meet you, new guy.
Brian
- N-Nice to meet you.
Winnifred
- Hm? Mr. Danny didn’t come with you? What a shame. I thought we worked quite well together.
Brian
- …
Brian opens his mouth, but finds himself speechless.
The figure before him is both alien and familiar, like a beautiful bubble one cannot bear to burst.
Winnifred
- Oh well. I trust your company. And you won’t let me down, will you?
Brian
- Of course not, Ms., ah … Winnifred.
Winnifred
- Haha, it’s a pleasure to work with you.
She extends her hand.
Brian
- You look … as young as ever.
Winnifred
- Have we met before?
Instead of waiting for an answer, she gives a nonchalant chuckle that turns into a gentle yawn.
Winnifred
- Heh, I get that a lot. Usually from discerning customers angling for a bargain on whatever treasure they have their eye on.
- But a little flattery can’t easily sway those of us seasoned by time. I will accept the compliment, however.
- Just know that you’ll have to do much more than that if you’re looking to get a bonus from me, young man. You need to show a little more heart.
- Hmm. If you send me the footage a week early, or maybe extend its duration to …
She earnestly haggles to herself.
Brian
- Do you really not remember me?
- Back at that officers’ club …
Winnifred
- Hmm?
- …
A heady silence fills the air.
Winnifred
- I’m truly sorry. As you can see, I’ve tried my best to recall.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
Brian returns the business card to its owner’s hands.
The card is severely worn. The bullet hole and scratches almost entirely obscure its original appearance.
Brian
- I’ve always wanted to thank you in person, Ms. Winnifred. Whether you remember me or not, your business card saved my life.
- I just never imagined I’d meet you here like this.
Winnifred
- Oh …
Brian returns the business card to its owner’s hands.
She waves her hand dismissively and places the card on the table.
Winnifred
- So it’s you. What a surprise.
Clearly, perfunctory pleasantries cannot dampen Brian’s enthusiasm.
Brian
- Yes! I never imagined that after all these years, you would look exactly the same as I remembered! Now I’m all the more certain.
- You must be a vampire, or at least, one-eighth of your blood is vampiric!
- It aligns perfectly with my script. My goal is to lift the veil of mystery hanging over vampires—to expose those false legends and rumors.
He becomes more excited as he speaks, scribbling in his notebook.
Winnifred
- …
Brian
- Just think about it, Ms. Winnifred. Don’t you want to finally change the public’s misconceptions about vampires?
- At least, at least we can show the world a more beautiful, more real image.
Winnifred shakes her head and reclines on the fashionable Persian sofa.
Winnifred
- Well, Mr. Brian, how are you going to do that?
Brian
- With a film!
- A film, of course! I’m planning to make one about vampires. The only thing is that no one’s willing to invest in it, and I haven’t finished the script yet.
- But I believe that as long as you’re willing to be the leading lady, everything will fall into place!
- Maybe we could start with a personal documentary! You know, investigating your lineage and family—the untold past of vampires.
- That would surely catch the investors’ attention! It’s the perfect opportunity to tap into a new market!
Winnifred
- I’d say your idea has legs, Mr. Brian.
Brian
- …!
Winnifred
- But I’m afraid I’m not interested.
It’s as if cold water has been splashed on Brian’s face.
Brian
- Why?
Winnifred
- I don’t care about movies. Sitting still for two or three hours is more like a subtle punishment than a pleasure. Besides, staring at a screen for such a long time robs our eyes of their brightness.
- That’s the kind of damage no amount of cosmetics can save.
Brian
- So what kind of film DO you want from us?
Winnifred
- Ugh …
- A talk show like The Night Show would be great. No one needs to go anywhere. We can all just relax on the sofa, chat about fashionable, superficial things, and laugh without a care in the world.
- We could also adopt a theme that captures life’s little fragments, then pieces them back together. Yes, that would be interesting.
She stretches languidly, looking expectantly at the cameraman before her.
Winnifred
- Mr. Danny promised me just that. What was it … “a comfortable atmosphere, simple requirements, and no need to lift a finger” …
Brian sets down his notebook, sighing in resignation.
Winnifred nods contentedly. She eyes the wall clock.
Quarter past three.
Winnifred
- Excellent. We’ll get started shortly. The client I have scheduled for this afternoon is due any moment now. We should be able to glean some free, authentic material!
Brian
- As you wish, ma’am.
Brian is adept with the camera and is serious about capturing every shot.
They successfully film Winnifred’s leisurely afternoon. Just as she had hoped.
Afternoon tea, strolls in the garden, sunbathing …
There is no doubt that Winnifred is pleased with them.
*knock, knock, knock*
This knocking seems rougher than usual.
Madison
- Winnifred! Winnifred!
- Open up! I know you’re in there!
Winnifred
- Look, friends. It seems we have another ill-mannered customer.
She faces the camera, offering a more polite smile than usual.
Winnifred
- Regardless, the customer always comes first.
She steps forward and opens the door.
Winnifred
- Welcome, Mr. Madison! My, it’s been a long time since we last met, hasn’t it? What a nostalgic reunion this is!
Madison
- We saw each other just last month, Ms. Winnifred.
His voice is accented with hints of barely-repressed anger.
Madison
- You sold me that “memory lamp,” saying it could faithfully record all it illuminates.
- But in actual fact …
He flips the switch. The lamp casts a warm yellow light.
Winnifred
- Yes, just like this!
- Just imagine: you’ll be able to eternally cherish the warmest, most beautiful scenes of your entire family under this very light.
- Just think—no more worrying about maintaining picture frames or power outages. All you need is a little bit of arcane energy, and you can preserve everything! Even their voices!
- Oh, what a joyous scene! Just thinking about it brings a tear to the eye.
- This “memory lamp” is a one-of-a-kind piece—snag it now for the low price of—
*click*
He turns off the lamp.
Winnifred
- Well, it’s running smoothly, and the image is clear enough. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, no?
- It certainly meets the standards of my other goods. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Madison!
Madison
- That’s precisely the issue!
- When you were selling me the lamp, it recorded our little test run perfectly. But after I took it home, no matter how many adjustments I made—even after I busted its bulb—the image didn’t change one iota!
Winnifred
- And is there something wrong with that, Mr. Madison?
She tilts her head, appearing somewhat puzzled.
Winnifred
- Just as I advertised, “it can faithfully record all it illuminates” …
- Poor little lamp. This is the reward you get for working hard and doing your job to the letter.
She runs her fingers across the scratches on the lamp’s surface and sighs deeply.
Winnifred
- Weren’t you the one who asked for a preview of how the lamp worked?
Madison
- Th-That’s right …
Winnifred
- Ah … My heart was just as heavy as yours in that moment. What a shame that you couldn’t just trust the quality of my product without having to use up its power on a demonstration.
Madison
- You!
- You charlatan! … You … wily capitalist!
His fists clench as his face flushes with anger.
Winnifred
- Our transaction was entirely above board, as you well know. Besides, getting rough now would only land you in a heap of legal trouble.
She points amiably at the camera documenting the entire affair.
Madison
- …
Winnifred
- Of course, if you so desire, I do offer a buy-back service at a tenth of the original price.
The man storms out, slamming the door behind him.
Winnifred
- Ah, how disappointing.
Upon the exit of this guest, the day’s filming ends as scheduled.
Brian
- That’s a wrap.
Winnifred
- You’re looking a little down, Mr. Brian.
Brian
- Sorry, Ms. Winnifred. I was just wondering if this scene would fit in your documentary. It was quite a negative encounter.
Winnifred
- Heh-heh, there’s no need to worry about that.
- I think it possesses a certain comedic quality, don’t you …? It reminds me of an episode of The Night Show, which you just have to watch, by the way.
- Just be careful you don’t bust a gut laughing!
Brian
- …
Brian
- By that point, I had to admit that Ms. Winnifred wasn’t the vampire I’d imagined.
- In fact, our brief, dreamlike encounters hadn’t allowed me to truly understand her.
- But even then, I clung to my belief, hoping in vain to find what I so desperately wanted to be true.
- I continued to pour my heart into the documentary, the vessel of my vampiric passion.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
The finished reels are piled up like a mountain.
They reflect Brian’s furrowed brow on their surfaces—his struggle and embarrassment laid bare on the mountainside.
Brian
- This one’s no good. It just doesn’t carry the weight of what I want to express. The symbolism’s totally missing, and the framing’s all wrong!
He removes the reel, replacing it with a new one. He watches in hope.
Brian
- This one too. The props are all over the place. Ms. Winnifred, you really shouldn’t have eaten those grapes—they were meant to balance the shot.
- …
Another reel is set aside. He sighs in resignation.
Brian
- This one’s even worse. The composition’s been completely ruined, and the props you added seem to symbolize some kind of material desire, which is totally confusing the message of the film! The insinuations are terrible!
Winnifred nods at Brian, offering a polite apology.
Winnifred
- You’re very diligent, Mr. Brian. I’m sure Mr. Danny would be pleased with all this.
- Of course, I’ll give you a glowing review for the work you’ve done.
Brian
- I’m not sure I understand …
Winnifred
- Haha. Once again, you prove that my coins have been well spent. It appears I haven’t lost my knack for striking a good deal.
Brian
- It’s not just about the money, Ms. Winnifred, at least not for me.
He stares at Winnifred, who appears indifferent to this declaration.
After a moment’s hesitation, he cannot help but go on.
Brian
- Ms. Winnifred, with all due respect …
- We should reshoot this material. Over the next few days, I’ll prepare more reels and plan a new script for you.
Winnifred
- …?
Brian
- I can’t lie to you, ma’am. The truth is, the footage we have now is almost totally unusable. It’s monotonous and hollow, and even with extensive editing, it won’t meet the standards of a truly great documentary.
- I’ll handle any additional costs. You just need to—
Winnifred cuts him off.
Winnifred
- I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Mr. Brian.
- I’ve seen the shots. They’re terrific.
Brian’s tone verges on vexation.
Brian
- You have to be kidding, right? Look, we’ll watch them again, and I’ll explain the major flaws to you. Then you’ll see for yourself, I swear!
Winnifred
- You’re an outstanding cinematographer, Mr. Brian. You don’t need to prove that to me anymore.
Brian
- Then why won’t you agree to my proposal?
Winnifred
- To be honest, I don’t really care about the quality of the documentary. All I need is for it to be made and become a shiny new addition to my display case.
Brian
- Don’t you care about its artistic value at all?
Winnifred
- Absolutely not. But being in vogue? That’s what really matters. You have to understand that women of a certain social class are only interested in the new, and trends can change at the drop of a hat.
- If we don’t hurry up and finish shooting this thing, I’ll be left in the dust by that prestigious circle chock-full of treasures and opportunities. That’s what I’m really afraid of.
- Could you imagine me, a has-been, an outcast of the new age, bankrupt without a penny to my name? I’ve seen that story play out more times than I care to recall.
She shakes her head dramatically, as if the very notion chills her to the core.
Brian
- …
- I understand, Ms. Winnifred. Let’s get on with the shoot.
Brian shakes his head. He lets out a long sigh but says no more.
Brian
- Time to shoot the small talk segment. Ms. Winnifred, I’m not sure I’m the right person for this kind of chat …
Winnifred
- No, no, it’s fine! We can make do with what we have. Now, let’s get started!
- Just relax and talk about whatever interests you.
She leans back, settling into a comfortable position on the sofa.
Brian
- A-Alright.
- Forgive my nosiness, but have you really never believed in the existence of vampires?
Winnifred
- I’ve been around, Brian—seen a lot of places and met many people, but I’ve never once laid eyes on even half of what you’d call a “vampire.”
- Of course, plenty of people have tried to buy such secrets from me. And believe me, were there any credence to these rumors, I’d be working to profit from them myself.
She shakes her head in resignation.
Brian
- But how, then, do you explain your appearance?
- Time seems to have no effect on you whatsoever. If that’s not because of some special bloodline, then what else could possibly explain it?
Winnifred
- Money.
- Sometimes the answer’s far simpler than you think, Mr. Brian. Money is a potent magic.
- It grants everyone who possesses it a longer life, a healthier body, and a more radiant appearance.
- Regardless of the era.
- Naturally, I’m a beneficiary of its largesse and shall continue to be so.
Brian
- Well, you’re not wrong about that.
- B-But …
He closes his notebook.
Brian
- I must say, I never imagined your answer would be so pragmatic yet so profoundly cruel!
Winnifred nods, fully understanding his frustration.
Winnifred
- The truth will never satisfy everyone, but that’s the reality of the situation. Trust me, I’m truly sorry for you, Brian.
Brian’s disappointment deepens.
He rises to his feet.
Brian
- Ms. Winnifred! I’m afraid I’ll have to withdraw my invitation. You’re not fit to play the role of the vampire in my film!
- You’re nothing like her. Not at all. You’re the true vampire of our world—a dyed-in-the-wool capitalist!
The final shot is complete.
Brian
- Rest assured, ma’am. Divine Union Pictures will edit the film and send it to you as soon as possible.
- We won’t delay your pursuit of the latest craze for a second longer than necessary.
Winnifred
- …
Brian bows in her direction and departs without looking back.
Winnifred
- Goodbye. I wish you all the best, Mr. Brian.
Brian
- And so, that was the last time I ever saw Ms. Winnifred.
- I couldn’t accept her choices, just as she couldn’t stomach my stubbornness.
- A huge, irreparable rift stood decisively between us, and I no longer believed she had anything to do with the fantasies of my childhood.
- I even started to think that everything I once firmly believed in was laughable. Absurd, even.
- After that, I threw myself into a career more concerned with reality, and I tried my best to awaken from that unreachable dream.
- …
- I couldn’t really say whether I succeeded in my ideals or in my career.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
Newsboy
- Extra, extra!
- The highly anticipated movie New England Dream is about to hit the silver screen! Another masterpiece following in the grisly tradition of Nosferatu, Dracula, and The Curse of Frankenstein!
- Witness the most pure and flawless vampire in film history, guaranteed to make your heart skip a beat! Behold the mysteries of an immortal race!
Maid
- May I have a newspaper?
Newsboy
- Fifteen cents … Thank you, ma’am.
- Today’s big news: the movie New England Dream is about to premiere.
- Critics have been pouring their acclaim on the film! Renowned critic Maxwell praises its intricate details and imaginative and dreamlike plot: “Director Brian Finn has once again created a masterpiece!”
- The chairman of the International Illumination Film Festival lauds its aesthetic framing and composition. He cites a strong “Finn” style, which indicates Finn’s active exploration of the vampire sub-genre.
“The eternally youthful image of the female lead is unforgettable.”
“A Hollywood masterpiece with a quintessentially European flair!”
“The preview was a huge success, garnering rave reviews!”
*thud*
(1970s, somewhere in the U.S.)
*thud*
The newspaper in Brian’s hand is crumpled into a ball and thrown to the floor.
Brian
- This is all wrong!
- After the preview, I repeatedly emphasized to everyone that …
- … the film absolutely cannot be released in its current state! It’s still riddled with serious flaws! It needs further revision!
- If I can’t fix them, my film will never reach perfection. It’ll never live up to this idea everyone has of it being some kind of “masterpiece”!
He paces the office, scratching at his increasingly sparse hair.
Brian
- But months have passed, and I haven’t changed a thing.
- I have to deliver the final cut of the film today.
He paces the office, scratching at his increasingly sparse hair.
He falls dejectedly into his chair.
Brian
- What do I do? How can I present such an unfinished, fractured piece of work?
A determined look comes across his face as he shakes his head.
Brian
- No. It would be an insult to vampires! A colossal stain on my directorial career!
He stumbles to the desk and grabs the phone, the dial spinning like a whirligig.
Brian
- I must postpone it a few more weeks. Just a fortnight will do!
- I’m sure I can find some inspiration and fix all those problems—
*knock, knock*
Before the call can connect, a visitor arrives at the office door.
Investor
- Brian! Brian! You’ve been dodging us for months!
- I know you’re in there!
Brian
- …!
*bang*
The door flies off its hinges and crashes to the ground.
Security Guard
- Sorry, Mr. Brian.
Brian
- Hey! What in God’s name are you doing?! You can’t just break into people’s property like this!
Investor
- You know why I’m here, Mr. Bigshot Director.
Brian
- I …
Investor
- How many times have you put off the release of this picture, pal? Do I need to remind you? Or have you come up with a new excuse?
Brian is momentarily speechless.
Investor
- I’ve told you so many times that the preview went well and all the critics loved New England Dream. So what’s the problem, buddy? What’re you still not satisfied with?
- There’s no way this film will tarnish your reputation in any way! In fact, this’ll shoot you to superstardom. You’ll be huge! The next big sensation on the lips of everyone in Hollywood!
Brian
- I don’t care about any of that!
- New England Dream is my lifelong work. It has to be flawless. It’s—
Investor
- Enough! Don’t you see you’re hurting everyone involved? Do you have any idea how much money we’ve lost to make this happen?!
- The whole crew’s livelihood is hanging on this thing! You planning on dragging them down with you?
Brian’s face turns red, but he still stubbornly clings to the copy of the film in his hand.
Brian
- I understand, but New England Dream isn’t ready for the big screen. We need to stop promoting it immediately, lower everyone’s expectations, and apologize in the press.
- Don’t worry. I’ll write the apology letter.
- I just need a little time to fix the problems with the film.
Investor
- You’ve totally lost it, haven’t you?
He waves his hand, signaling the security personnel behind him.
Investor
- Grab the stuff. We’re done waiting.
Security Guard
- C’mon. Hand it over, Mr. Brian.
The struggle is brief.
Brian collapses to the floor.
Investor
- The audiences, the theaters, and a boatload of investors have all been waiting for it. New England Dream is more than just your baby.
Brian
- You can’t do this! This is my life’s work!
- It’s not finished …
- Give it back to me! I promise, I’ll make it perfect!
Winnifred
- “Sincerely, Brian Finn.”
(1990s, Eternity’s House)
“Please forgive my dragging feet and hard head. It wasn’t until today that I finally mustered up the courage to send you a copy of this film.”
“Regrettably, even after twenty years, I’ve never been able to perfect the final edit—to find those missing pieces. It’s tormented me endlessly.”
“I hope it doesn’t repulse you.”
Winnifred
- “Sincerely, Brian Finn.”
- …
Maid
- What’s wrong, ma’am?
- Ever since that reel landed in your lap today, you’ve been all shades of blue. You even dug up that old newspaper.
- Bless your heart, still so attached to these old things.
She carefully removes the film from the projector—the film that has traversed a great deal of time and distance to find her.
Winnifred
- You’ve kept it in fine condition. Thank you.
Maid
- Just doing my job, ma’am. Are you sure you’re okay?
The woman looks at her in the same way a worried mother looks at her child.
Winnifred
- It’s okay. I’m fine.
She runs her fingers along the aged Persian sofa, feeling the subtle textures under her fingertips.
Winnifred
- So much time has passed.
Maid
- Don’t you worry, ma’am. Even though my eyes aren’t what they used to be, I can still say that …
- … you look wonderful. The Lord’s been kind to you, that’s for sure.
Winnifred
- …
- I need to step out for a moment.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
Robin
- Dad’s condition seems to be getting worse. I’m really worried he might—
His sister shushes him.
Illia
- Shh! I think he’s fallen asleep. Let’s not wake him—it’s been so long since he had a good rest.
Robin
- I had no idea he had so much on his mind. Even now, he can’t stop thinking about his vampire film.
Illia
- That’s a good thing, Robin. That’s a good thing.
The daughter murmurs to herself, tapping her fingers on the edge of the bed.
Illia
- At least Dad’s still got something to hang onto. I think that’s what’s keeping him alive, in spite of his bad eyes and old war wounds. It’s by God’s grace that he’s still here with us.
Robin
- …
- But I do wish Dad could fulfill his dream. It’s not the sickness that’ll do him in; it’s the regret—the kind that eats away at you.
The old man’s grip on the notebook remains strong, as if something immensely important is still gnawing at him.
Brian
- Urgh …
Suddenly, the old man cries out, his body trembling as if in the throes of a nightmare.
Brian
- That’s my final say!
- Don’t send anyone else to try and sweet-talk me anymore! I won’t have it!
Illia
- Dad?
Brian
- No name. Don’t put my name on it.
- It’s got nothing to do with Brian Finn!
Desperate and helpless words spill from his quivering lips.
Brian
- *vomit*
- I don’t give a d**n! This is not my movie!
- I loathe you! All of you! You went ahead and screened it—and now it’s a stain on my name forever!
- D**n it! To hell with you investors!
The old man gasps for air, seeming to calm down for a moment.
Robin
- Are you alright? The doctor—we’ve got to get Dr. David here, now!
- Just hang in there a little longer! Just a little while longer …
Illia
- Robin, quick! We need to hurry! I’ll go with you!
Robin
- A-Alright.
The children rush out the door.
The room returns to its original calm.
Brian looks like a baby, tucked in a cradle.
Footsteps approach, a sound both alien and familiar creaking on the wooden floor.
Brian
- …!
The old man struggles to rise and forces open his eyes. He is desperate to see.
Brian
- Is that you? Have you come at last?
That beautiful silhouette sits beside him once again.
Winnifred
- Mr. Brian … Still as frantic as ever, I see.
Brian
- My apologies, Ms. Winnifred, that you have to see me in such a state.
Winnifred
- Everyone’s day comes—when youth and vigor quietly slip away. We claw at it, but we’re ultimately helpless to stop it.
- Be it you or me.
She chuckles.
Winnifred
- I’ve seen stories about you in many newspapers over the years. Your career’s been a successful one.
Brian
- Those empty accolades are nothing to boast about. Besides, I didn’t even put my name on New England Dream.
- The investors and I never saw eye-to-eye. They took everything. Left me with nothing but the original copy.
The old man strokes his notebook, falling silent for some time.
Finally, some cautious words leave his mouth.
Brian
- Did you get the film I sent you?
Winnifred
- Of course. It’s well made. Beautiful visuals, exquisite costumes, and the plot’s interesting enough. A superior vampire film.
- Your vampire had a long life, yet she still maintained her original purity and enthusiasm. It was touching.
Brian
- But …
The old man fumbles for words, unable to articulate a complete sentence.
Winnifred
- You want to know what your film was missing, don’t you?
Brian
- If you’re willing to tell me.
Winnifred
- Time, Brian. Time.
Brian’s fingers loosen, and the notebook opens to a blank page.
Winnifred
- How do you view time, Mr. Brian?
- Time is neither our friend nor our foe. It simply is. It passes over everything we experience, equally and without mercy.
- Maybe money and that special bloodline you believe in can stave off the erosion of time on our bodies.
- But how can they resist its impact on our hearts?
Brian
- …
Winnifred
- Your New England Dream granted her eternity, but why did you cruelly deprive her of the right to have her soul worn away by time?
- It’s a story so beautiful that it’s almost a dream, but it destroys itself in its own beauty.
Brian
- Ms. Winnifred, your insight penetrates to the core of my work.
Brian closes the notebook, his wrinkles smoothing out as resignation comes over him.
Brian
- You always saw straight through me, didn’t you?
Winnifred
- I’m not the vampire you hoped for. I’m just an ordinary person—a person bearing a curse.
Brian
- *cough, cough* Of course. Of course you are.
- Knowing this now, clear as day, I feel all the more regretful.
His face flushes red, as if struggling against something formidable.
Brian
- Time will change us, reshape us beyond recognition. This is a painfully obvious, and dismal, fact.
- It’s precisely because of that fact that I searched so hard for a true vampire. I was trying to convince myself that there’s a treasure in this world that’s eternal—something untouched by time’s cruel hands.
- It was entirely out of my own selfishness that I did so. It was this obsession that left my film forever incomplete.
Brian clings to the notebook with stubborn resolve.
Brian
- But it’s almost impossible for me to let go of this selfishness.
- I’ve been wrestling with myself for over twenty years, even until—
- *cough, cough* … until now.
Winnifred
- It must’ve been a long and brutal war.
Brian
- You couldn’t be more right.
- It’s claimed the twilight years of my life; left me bedridden, sightless, and battling illness, yet I couldn’t change a thing.
A gentle sea breeze whispers by.
Winnifred
- Mr. Brian, there’s something important that you’re overlooking.
Brian
- …?
The breeze gently caresses Brian’s stiff limbs.
(TO BE CONTINUED…)
When does aging catch up with us?
Is it when we can no longer leap two steps at a time up the stairs? Or when the past is quietly forgotten and the number of white bottles in the cabinet keeps growing?
Or is it when time finally erodes the promise of our childhood dreams, and we are forced to leave them behind?
Brian
- Ms. Winnifred … *cough, cough* … don’t you think my stubbornness is meaningless?
Winnifred
- Not in the least, Mr. Brian.
- Because you’ve found something that isn’t eroded by time, haven’t you?
- To this day, time hasn’t changed your ideals. You still hold them tightly, unwilling to let go.
- I admire your conviction.
Brian
- …!
- Hahaha … *cough, cough* Hah!
The old man perks up as if he’d just been given a dose of adrenaline.
Brian
- I suppose I’ll achieve the ultimate victory soon, then …
- How wonderful, Ms. Winnifred.
Remembering something, he strains to lift his head again.
Brian
- Then, will you still accept a copy of my film?
A soft sigh falls upon his ears.
Winnifred
- I’m sorry, I can’t accept it.
Brian
- Yes, I understand. It’s not good enough. It’s much too insignificant among your exquisite and unique collection.
Winnifred
- No, Mr. Brian, it’s because it’s too precious for me to endure its eventual loss.
- How long will this roll of film last—thirty, fifty years? Maybe a little longer?
Brian
- …
Winnifred
- It’s cruel to make someone so old see something so precious fade away. She has to watch as it’s worn by time, witness its shape warp and curl.
- Just as she has countless times before.
Brian smiles helplessly.
Brian
- Yes, you’re right. Now I can fully understand what you’re saying. Besides, I can’t run away in a huff like I did when I was young anymore.
Winnifred
- I have a gift for you, too.
Brian
- Please don’t, Ms. Winnifred.
- I’m so old now. I can’t repay you with anything of value. Are you trying to return that same pain to me?
Winnifred doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands up and slowly approaches the bed.
The cool sea breeze seems to draw nearer.
A few drops of warm liquid fall on his face, like soft rain, or like a voice that has long been absent.
Winnifred
- Mr. Brian, I remember those eyes from long ago. Green, timid, puerile …
- But also filled with immense courage and passion.
Brian
- I … I can see …
Warmth rushes through every inch of his body, like an athlete finally returning to a familiar track.
Strength gradually returns to his body. He breathes deeply, his lungs filling with fresh air.
His vision clears, and the hands before him, still youthful and unscathed by bullet marks, clasp together in disbelief.
The sound of the tide becomes clearer in his ears.
It is the earnest echo of that time, more than sixty years ago.
Brian
- Are they all alive?
The tables, chairs, and books swim in this boundless blue sea, tacitly dancing that same dance he saw all those years ago.
Brian
- I remember this dance. They danced so well, so joyfully, that it made me forget all my pain.
His memories awaken.
Brian
- Yes, this is it. This is the house from my dreams.
- *cough, cough* I’ve returned.
- Ms. Winnifred, was it you? Have you given me this dream?
Winnifred
- Mr. Brian, what a pleasure it is to see you again.
She reaches out her hand, as if greeting an old friend after many years.
Brian
- It’s … really you …
- It’s always been you, hasn’t it?
He reaches out a trembling hand, as if trying to touch that dream from his childhood.
Winnifred
- Yes, it’s me, my friend.
Time flows forward.
The water rises, then silently falls back to its origin.
Robin
- Dr. David, please hurry. Dad’s just in there.
They open the door.
Illia
- Dad …
The room has returned to its original state, indistinguishable from when they left.
The old man on the bed no longer stirs. His mouth is curved into a slight smile, as though he has drifted away into a sweet and peaceful dream.
The notebook lies on his chest.
No longer clutched in his hands, it has fallen open like a silent tombstone.
A new page is presented. One bearing elegant handwriting in still-wet ink.
Winnifred
- “Thus, he lived a life fulfilled.”
- “He never owed anything to anyone, be they colleagues, lovers, children, or friends.”
- “And not for a single moment did he ever abandon his ideals.”
- “In memory of a brave old friend who steadfastly held to himself amid the raging rapids of time.”
(THE END)