Greetings to the wonderful people of The Fault in Our Stars fandom, I'm Kayla. I've never written a story about the wonderful creation, so I'm going to start out by releasing myself from court a little, if you know what I mean. I honestly did read the book before I saw the movie, which by the way, was truly amazing. We all have problems with people like that, and as I'm posting this so very shortly after the release of the movie, I just wanted to throw that out there before you guys tracked me down and ate me in my sleep. This came to me as I was staring out of a window on a bus ride early Monday afternoon, where as we all should know, all the best ideas in life come from. I turn to my friend, coincidentally reading fan fiction, and I tell her that I'm going to write "An Imperial Affliction". Not some little summary of what happens, but the whole thing. I want to create a prequel to the beloved tale that started the adventures of Hazel Grace and Augustus. Wish me luck. Here we go.

I walked down the rotting sidewalk in the rotting neighborhood of one of the most well known cities in the world, Los Angeles. But what's supposed to be glamorous and the one true place where anything is possible isn't anything quite like it. If you see Los Angeles like I do, it's rotting too. The whole world is slowly rotting over time, making its way to its ultimate demise, the crumbling point of the Earth.

My mom says that I think too depressingly to be eight years old and my dad says, well he doesn't speak much English anymore, whatever language drunkards speak, he speaks it fluently.

My teachers, nurses, and parents all tell me that I can't be depressed, that I should make friends and play and live life to its fullest. But what life is there to live? It's said that depression is a side effect of cancer. That is quite wrong you see, for depression is rather a side effect of dying, and well, I'm dying.

The same teachers, nurses, and my parents don't like to consider that an option, that I will get better. There will be a cure someday. I will live a long, happy life.

"And then I'll ride off into the sunset on my magical unicorn as we fly to Neverland and I meet my mermaid best friend and my charming prince and then I'll NOT have cancer." I think to myself as my mom lectures my for the thousandth time about how I'll get what I deserve when the time is right.

If I get what I deserve, then why do I have cancer? If I get what I deserve then why do I have this incurable form of blood cancer that they don't know how to treat, that they didn't even really know anything about until I had to come along and be their stupid little lab rat! If I get what I deserve, then why do I have Stage IV of anything of this seemingly pit of doom! Cancer will be my demise, no matter what anyone says! You can't live and be happy and all of that messed up junk if you have this disease that no one knows what to do about. I am bound to die, people. There is nothing anyone can do about it.

Sorry, anger and frustration, another "side effect of cancer."

I never properly introduced myself; I'm Anna, Anna Van Houten. I have a rare blood cancer, Cholera. My mother, who currently only has but one eye, which is kind of cool, because when I was very little I thought she was this sort of mom by day, pirate captain by night sort of thing, is very caring, but doesn't like to come to terms that I'm dying, and that I know it.

My dad's a little less supportive of anything I do. After him and my mom filed their divorce he moved to Amsterdam, but he still calls, sometimes at least. He's been working on some book for awhile (apparently he does know English), and I keep asking him about it but he always says it's some "work in progress" and that he "hopes he doesn't have to end it for awhile." I honestly don't get it.

Confusion is yet another "side effects of cancer".

There are however some small joys in my life, such as my hamster, Sisyphus, but when you live in an Imperial Affliction, there can't be many joys, for there are too many side effects of dying that cast their shadow over them.

I look down at my dark jeans and Chuck Taylors, the same as every day, thinking to myself if other people live in such an imperial affliction, if others live this grand empire of pain and sorrow. I wonder if I'm the only cursed one on this stupid planet and if I'm the only one who has to live through this. If I'm the only undead dead person who has to live, and people telling this clearly dead person that they're clearly undead and, and, and-there's a letter on the rotting steps to the rotting brick apartment building in the masked rotting city of Los Angeles in this rotting world. There's a letter addressed to me.

This can't be good, every time this has happened; I've had to be sent to a therapist or the hospital or somewhere far away so they can poke around at my brain. I don't want to do this. I can't do this.

I have to do this.

I quickly open the letter and start to read very fast, hoping that the pain won't cut into me as badly if I get it over with.

Dear Ms. Anna Van Houten,

We, the head of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center are pleased to inform you that after your previous appointments, we have looked into your file to find that you have successfully made it into remission.

That's as far as I got until I sunk to the ground crying. But for the first time in my life, they were tears of joy.

Tell me what you think. I'm obviously not Peter Van Houten, unfortunately, and therefore I don't have the power to tell a magnificent novel about the hills and valleys of cancer, but I did want to make this, so I'm sorry if I let anyone down. Please do review, I can always use feedback and help on how you guys want the story to be directed. Have an amazing weekend, guys, and if you're out of school, hope you're having a great start to summer. Okay?