Thirty years ago…

Thirty years ago, when I was thirteen years old, I watched a movie that would’ve had my family praying for my fragile soul—The Lost Boys. Hopped up on sexually-fluid vampires, Stephen King and Poppy Z. Brite, characters formed… Adrian Ward and Bram Lyght. At that time, their relationship existed in a more platonic space, though always with a kinship that often skirted the line of brotherly kinship.

In the story’s infancy, Adrian and Bram attended high school, didn’t have to struggle with being newly-fledged adults. Neither had they gone through the horrible events of the current iteration that followed them for years. In that primitive idea, Adrian was a descendant of vampires which was scrapped long before Twilight saw publication. Bram held no special attribute, other than being Adrian’s closest confidant.

After moving to South Korea, where I lived for six years and experienced life-changing events, Adrian’s matriarchal lineage followed a line of powerful Korean women who practiced shamanism. Adrian Ward became Adrian Shin-Ward, his matriarchal surname Shin written in hangul as 신 and in hanja as 神 defined as God or deity.

Bram became a layered character, bravado and charm stretched taut over his cracked and faded confidence, after Tyler Guerra assaults him in his adolescence. With his hyper-conservative, religious family turning their backs to him, Bram finds himself alone despite being surrounded by people.

These new beginnings form into Shaman’s pivotal center point, one where Adrian and Bram are drawn to each other by chance and connect by choice. It’s a story far darker and more brutal than my 13-year-old self would have imagined, though the gritty interior existed even then. But through the decades, the one thing that hasn’t changed is the undeniable connection that Adrian and Bram share, no matter what forces attempt to tear them apart.