Supernatural Crush

Supernatural Crush

By Lobsang

My name is Tulip—yeah, like the flower, I hear it all the time… but my name isn’t the most unusual thing about me.

My grandmother came to me one night when I was a child, and warned me about my gift. The curious thing was that she had passed away before I was even born. But talking with dead people was just the beginning. I wish Granma warned me about supernatural crushes too.

When I was sixteen years old, in the summer of 1996, I dated a werewolf named Joshua.

He was tall, with brown curly hair framing a perfect tanned face and a slight beard giving him an attractive rebel look. But what I really loved about him was his eyes. Looking into them was like looking into a rainbow. They never had the same color twice. He explained to me that they were light gray and just reflected the color of his clothes. I wasn’t that sure, but I didn’t care. They were so beautiful.

I didn’t know Joshua’s secret at first.

He always disappeared during the full moons making the most absurd excuses—like the time he claimed to have a dentist appointment at midnight.  That year’s school ball (my luck) happened to be during a full moon. So I danced alone that night, but I forgave him.  I always surrendered to his adorable puppy eyes—more of a puppy than I thought, but I realized that later.

One night, during a full moon, I followed Joshua into the woods. I wish I didn’t. The scariest part wasn’t when his eyes turned blood red. It wasn’t either when abundant plated hair seeped through his skin, covering his body; or even when tried to eat my arm with a single bite—okay, maybe that last part was the scariest. But it also scared me how someone that suppose to love me couldn’t be strong enough to stop himself from his beastly instincts.

So I broke up with Joshua that very same night. Then I broke with him again the next morning because he didn’t remember since he was in his “canine” condition.

It was so painful, for my arm and for my heart. But I survived.

Two years later, at the age of eighteen, I met a vampire named Allan.

His skin was always fresh, even on the hot summer nights.  Our dates were always in the dark, but we had a lot of fun together. Something inside me, in that place where the heartbeats were born, told me that I found the love of my life.

Allan was so caring, a true gentleman—except when he went out to the forest to hunt rabbits and drink their blood. But every love implies tolerance and sacrifices after all. I also had to give up the garlic in my diet, and never wear crucifixes anymore, but it was worth it to have him by my side.

One night, Allan snuck into my room through the window and fell asleep on my chest. I fell asleep too, and I forgot to close the curtains. I will never forgive myself for that mistake…

I woke up the next morning with the rays of sun on my face, and dark ashes all over my pink sleeping robes instead of my boyfriend…. I cried his loss for three weeks. I never dared to wash my pajamas.

I was twenty when a teenage ghost stole my heart.

Michael was younger, but I thought that if we could overcome the fact that he passed away in a car accident a couple of years before, we would be all right together.

Michael was the first boyfriend that I officially introduced to my parents. My mother shrieked, but said that it was ok. She thought that it was a phase and eventually I would find a boyfriend that actually has flesh. My father, well, he just shook his head.

Unfortunately, the relationship didn’t last long. Michael’s unfinished business was unintentionally solved when I told his brother that Michael forgave him. His brother was driving the car when they had the accident that caused his death. So Michael moved on to heaven… and I stayed on earth.

The next summer, I had a crush for a poltergeist that haunted my new apartment.

I had moved to New York to study journalism, and fell in love with Abraham since he scared me for the very first time. “A ghost again?” my father shouted when he found out. My mother tried to say something, but then she fainted.

I never saw Abraham’s face, but I loved the poems he used to write me on the walls using that lovely red “ink”.  He was an excellent decorator too, I found the apartment’s furniture in different places each time I came back from my classes.

But one terrible morning, I saw a priest coming out of the building. The neighbors couldn’t stand the howls and the shakes of the walls at 12:45 a.m. (the time when Abraham died, victim of a thief five years before). The building was exorcised and the poltergeist banished for good. I never heard form Abraham again. I still miss his poems.

I fell in love again at the age of twenty-five. His name was Henry.

What about him? Nothing, except that he is a good man. My parents approved him immediately. Maybe Henry was not as eccentric as the others, but he made me feel magic. I even wondered if he may be a wizard or something, but he wasn’t. It was just the magic of pure and legitimate love.

Henry didn’t leave me, not even knowing that the bite of my first boyfriend left me with consequences. Joshua infected me that night in the woods when he tried to eat my arm. But that didn’t affect my new relationship. Well, maybe just a little bit during the full moons… but I think we’ll be okay.