Chapter 6

It has been a long couple of months, and I've learnt a lot in that time. About myself, about the world, about everything I thought I knew about true and false, life and love.

Vampires weren't the only thing I thought was just a children's story before arriving at Oakhurst. These people have a love for each other that I've otherwise only ever seen in fairy tales and Greek epics. Not in a romantic sense, but as friends, as people who went through something horrible together and came out alive on the other side. There is something touching about that.

If the stories are to be believed, and I feel they are, many of the Oakhurst survivors from two hundred years ago were enemies. Now, they look out for each other, they take care of each other.

Shelby said something that really stuck with me. "When it comes down to it, humanity will do what it takes to protect each other." She said it in reference to the hostility she experienced when she was first turned, as if to excuse or explain it. I don't think she was wrong, but I do think she doesn't see how far that reaches, because I have seen vampires do exactly that as well.

Or perhaps she does see that, and Scott is the one who's wrong. He told me vampires lose their humanity when they turn, that they become monsters, albeit ones who may choose to restrain their bloodlust. I have seen abundant evidence to the contrary, however. I have seen Pearl be immeasurably gentle with Cleo. I have read Apo's love-filled letters to Cherri. I have watched Drift pull Shelby back to the present. These are not the acts of monsters to be feared. These are fierce displays of humanity, of the sort of love that human beings have had for each other for millenia. What I saw, meeting and getting to know these so called vicious creatures, was the very thing that allowed humans to go on existing as long as we have.

What's more, they talk about their fallen friends with so much love that they may as well have been gone for two weeks rather that two centuries. M's face practically glowed when I showed him the old portraits of Ren and Martyn. Pearl spoke so gently about how things could have ended differently for Pyro. Cleo wore a soft smile I'd otherwise only ever seen when they were with Pearl while telling me about the doctor. All of the graves in Oakhurst are so well-kept, her dead encased in warmth and fond memory.

I learnt in Oakhurst of a love that not only refused to fade, but grew stronger and brighter over time. Pyro, Apo, Ren, Martyn, Legs, Owen: they are all gone, but their memories are kept as alive and close as if they themselves are still around to ensure it. It's remarkable. Even those that were hated in life are surrounded by affection. Despite the stories and her own derision, I heard respect in Cleo's voice when she spoke of Apo. Despite the anger Shelby still held towards Pyro, the grief with which she looked at his portrait and read his letters was unmistakeable. Despite all the damage he did, Shelby also told me how gentle Owen had been with her when she first turned. In fact, she called both Pyro and Owen her brothers, even after everything.

This same love shines through in all of the effort and care put into the town herself. The improvements I saw in the infrastructure when compared to the sketches and descriptions from two centuries ago… these don't just arise out of necessity or a desire to attract visitors. They can only be the product of two people who suffered immeasurably and wish to put an end to it. The tower is rebuilt to a grandness that I'm sure no one could even have dreamt of. The buildings retain all of their antique charm without looking unkempt or overlooked. Cleo and Pearl have put so much thought into building Oakhurst up, so much love that the town now reflects in her streets and bricks. They have cared for her, and now she cares for her people, as she always has and always will.

That is the biggest lesson I learnt: love doesn't die. Not ever. If you've loved someone once, it would seem that love will always linger. Even if they're gone, even if they've committed unknowable atrocities. The love may sour, but it doesn't fade, not entirely. Grief is just love with nowhere to go. Anger, at least the sort I saw among the Oakhurst survivors, is what remains when love is torn—not broken, mind you; Shelby proved that time and again.

To anyone who finds this blog and follows my travels, I hope you take away from it this same truth: no matter how rotten or hopeless things seem, one thing will always remain, and that is love. This world can be dark and cruel, but still it is made so beautiful by the overabundance of love that can be found everywhere, if you'll only look.

To everyone who has read this far, to everyone who aided in my research and provided the resources you see on this blog, to everyone who supported my goals and encouraged me when I grew disheartened, to everyone who showed interest in this project, to everyone who did anything to help make it all possible: a million more thanks than I can express on this page.

For now, this is me signing off for the last time.

-J.P.

J.P's final farewell to Oakhurst
by firequeenofficial