The Monster From the Black Alley
â€˜The line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.
And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?â€™
My fingernails buried in the arm of my couch, a strange heat expanding in my body, coming from my chest and flaming down to my toes â€“ making it hard to breathe, my heart beating with such a fury that I imagine I can actually hear it. Okay â€“ note to self: this is a tv show. Nothing else. Calm down.
First impulse, as so often when I feel overwhelmed by a situation, is to ring a friend close to my heart, and luckily sheâ€™s home. Talking brings me down. The turmoil in my soul ceases a bit, becoming bearable. This-is-only-a-tv-showâ€¦. This-is-only-a-tv-showâ€¦. Doesnâ€™t matter really. What this tv show does to my emotions is very real. And not for the first time I wonder: do I invest too much passion in this damn show? I probably do. And despite episodes like this one (and many before) I wouldnâ€™t change it for the world.
I leave it be, take out a book that has nothing in common with Supernatural, to remind me of the life I have apart from this show and that I shouldnâ€™t let it get to me the way it does. Not easy. How many of you, kind readers, have felt something like this after watching an episode that left you breathless? But â€“ I have fallen in love with these characters and therefore it hurts even more to see them like this. I reckon some of you feel like this. I have no cure. Then again, I donâ€™t have access to Grandpa Campbellâ€™s journal.
From the promos I expected a mix of comedy and tragedy, but wasnâ€™t prepared for the extent of tragedy I was thrown into. Not yet, of course. First weâ€™re led into a bar where Goths and others mingle and Emily Fang (yeah, right), who looks like a blend of Stephanie Meyer and Kristen Stewart, shows the bartender her IDâ€¦ But sheâ€™s not here for a drink. Well, not the kind you get at the bar. She meets a vampire, doesnâ€™t know (as well as we donâ€™t) that he is a real one and not the kind of pathetic wannabe modelling himself after the most popular vampire in recent film history, Edward Cullen.
Itâ€™s already a side blow to the Twilight series (a tad too long for those viewers unfamiliar with that franchise, Iâ€™d say, as they are missing out on the pastiche), and they use lines from the movies throughout the opening scenes (anyone whoâ€™s seen the films will notice how Roberts catches her red mobile (instead of the red apple in the first movie), the â€˜paper cutâ€™ and â€˜are you scaredâ€¦ you should beâ€™ and the wooden dialogue lines). Though Iâ€™ve read the Twilight novels and watched the films, actually enjoying them to some extent when dwelling in some kind of teenage romantic mood (and I do like the Vampire Diaries, though True Blood is my favourite at the moment, because those vampires embody more of their nature than Twilight does, but thatâ€™s just me), I always thought that the books were not exactly well written, Iâ€™d like to find an author with the ability to describe the inner states of her characters with more than just a few adjectives, and I donâ€™t like the female lead of the films who has only about three expressions at her disposal to communicate her emotionsâ€¦ Iâ€™m mean, I know. But I have standards when it comes to acting I like to see lived up. And it may well be that my witchy side is triggered by the emotional turmoil of this episode.
Plus: the vampires of that series practically donâ€™t suffer any predicament. The classic difficulties to their lives, like sunlight, garlic, holy water, crucifixes, mirrors, etc. donâ€™t exist. They are a more perfect version of a human being. Of course, hoards of teenage girls want to be like that. And, in this scenario of our favourite tv show they are the easiest prey. Where hormones rage there is no room for common sense, eh? Robert (nice one!) leads Kristen aka Emily to a place smelling like pee where she is to disappearâ€¦ Velvet? Of course.