I didn't think I'd write a story for this fandom any time soon (or at all), but my plot bunnies had different ideas. This is my second story that I've written in First Person point of view and… I don't know. I may end up going back and rewriting this chapter in Third Person before continuing… if I continue, that is… like I said, I don't know. I probably will.

The story begins three years prior to the movie. Well. Next chapter it does; this one's more of an introduction to the story really.

Full Summary: You didn't have to ask me if I was certain about my mom being off her rocker, along with my cousins', for believing in legends and myths. Because I'm certain that they are. Or I was certain until that night on the boardwalk. From that point, I wasn't so certain about anything. And it's all because of him. : Paul/OC :

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lost Boys and its characters; the only things I own are my original characters. Any similarities of physical descriptions or names to any real person, may it be living or dead, is purely coincidental. Thank you.

Certain
It's a Good Place to Start

I'm not going to lie: our mother was a complete freak.

Why? It's not because of the fact that she's overly religious, but she claims to have the whole "sixth sense" thing and whatnot. Why was she so superstitious? What made her believe in the supernatural? I hadn't the faintest idea and neither did my dad and older brother. Jasmine, three years younger than I and the baby in our family, came to the conclusion that mom was secretly smoking weed when no one was around. That's why she believed to have this "sixth sense"; the hallucinations made her think she could see spirits.

And, sadly yet not surprisingly, my brother and I agreed.

It was hard to imagine how dad ever fell for someone like our mom, but he did. And apparently, remained head-over-heels in love with her; although, he never openly said it. Not even in front of his three kids did he ever say those three words to her. But we could tell from how he put up with her odd behavior, even if it meant eating plenty of garlic, practically dying from the overly salted meals, and having our guests drink holy water before entering the house.

I still remember when Zack came home with his girlfriend one time and mom practically freaked when she hadn't drank holy water before coming inside. It was something Jasmine and I giggled over, as if we were both ten year-olds, while watching from the top of the stairs, but it wasn't until I turned eighteen that I realized the same may happen to me.

And, of course, it did.

But it was ten times worse since it was a few seconds after sundown. It wasn't like we were sneaking inside to "do the deed", as Jasmine so kindly put it. The guy just needed to use the restroom. What was I supposed to say? "Oh, you have to drink this glass of water before going inside. Sorry, it's the rule."? Yeeeaaah—no, I don't think so.

Thank God we were going away for the summer that year – even if the sole reason was because it was Aunt Lydia's birthday. Besides, it wasn't all that bad. I guess. The place had (and still does to this day) a boardwalk so it wasn't like there wouldn't be anything to do, right? Yeah. And there'd be plenty of rides to check out and concerts to see.

Really, it was perfect.

Well…

That is, with the exception of my awkward cousins being there. How did I know that they were awkward? Because Zack told me even he had a hard time trying to make casual conversation with them when he got to go with mom to pay them a visit once.

Oh.

And not to mention the fact that Santa Carla was given the title of "Murder Capital of the World".

But hey, I digress.

After all, it's not likely that anything bad would happen while we were there. Or, should I say, nothing bad would happen to us. Who knows? No one ever did find the bodies so they could just be runaways, couldn't they? And aunt Lydia's been living there ever since she married Drew.

And, who knows? That could have been the truth.

But it's not.

Sure, it helped me understand my mother's weird quirks, which now, I don't consider weird as I once believed it was back then. And neither did Zack and Jazzy. Not after everything we went through that summer.

Not when I made the choice to hang out with them that one night.

I blame the Twisted Sister look-a-like.

(Wait a minute, who's blaming who?)

(And who's the one telling the story here? So be quiet for a few more minutes, please.)

I won't say I regret my decision though because then I'd be lying. Because if I hadn't met any of them – him – the way I did then who knows what could have happened? There are so many possibilities of what could have happened that it makes my head spin just thinking about it.

And it seems that I'm getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I?

Yep, I am.

Guess that means I should start the beginning, huh? Yeah. Of course it does. It always does. No matter how boring it may be, you have to start somewhere, now don't you? But where exactly should I start?

(A name's always a good place to start with.)

Right, a name – that's a good place to start. Usually, that is. Not always, but usually it's a good place to start off with.

(Don't I get a kiss for that, babe? Since, oh you know, I did tell you where you should start.)

(Didn't I ask you to be quiet? I'm trying to tell the story here.)

(Jeez, someone's certainly moodier than usual.)

Anyway, what was I talking about before he interrupted me? … Oh, right. I was about to give you my name, wasn't I? Yeah. OK. I can do that. It's not like you're going to stalk me (Yeah, cause that's my job—hey! C'mon, don't be that way! I'm just telling them the truth, babe!) or anything, so it's perfectly fine if I give my name.

It's Charlene Fisher.

But you can just call me Charlie.

Now, the story I'm about to tell you took place a really, really long time ago. Well, for me, it doesn't feel all that long ago where the whole world felt like it went topsy-turvy on me. I'm certain, once I tell you the date and if you've heard of the legends, you know why. And if you don't know about the legends then it's your lucky day because you're about to find out. But I do warn you to never mention it to anyone, least of all a certain male with platinum blond hair, styled in a mullet, with icy-blue eyes that'd freeze your soul in its place as soon as you look into them.

Unless, you know, you have a death wish or want to see about joining the gang. But you'd better think about it before you act, especially if you're considering on joining.

Just… do us a favor, please? If you do decide to approach him, make sure you don't frizz your hair and wear gypsy style clothing. And, for my sake, don't tell him you heard this from me – any and all of this. I'm already in enough trouble as it is.

(Relax, babe; I'll protect you from the big, bad bat!)

(Don't compare him to Batman.)

(It got you to smile though!)

So, you ready to hear when this fun old story of mine starts? … Yeah, of course you are. I can just see how thrilled you are at having to read this – my – story; although, in some cases, I could say our story.

And when exactly does this story of mine – of ours – begin?

I'll tell you.

It all began in the summer of 1984.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. And, if you feel like it, leave a review. I'd be more than happy to hear from you, especially if it's to improve something since, like I mentioned above, I'm not that great when it comes to writing in First Person POV. Or to point out a mistake that you see because, even though I went back through it a few times, I have a feeling I wrote Charlie in Third Person somewhere instead of First. But yeah, thanks again for reading. :)

Cheers.