Prologue
I could just see the tip of the H. The sharp curves of the O. I knew I was getting close. The tainted white letters were right ahead. I pulled my ponytail tighter. My long brown hair just decided not to cooperate. My white short shorts seemed to ride up every couple of seconds, making me have to reach down and tug on them while I walked. My fingernails that were painted hot pink polish by my best friend, Emmy Sherman, were already chipping.
As I reached the viewing area of Mount Lee, I couldn't help but sneak a peek at the spectacle around me. I let out a loud sigh. The evergreen land flowed out in front of me. On a flat piece of land close in front of me stood nine huge letters; sun-bleached, but yet so majestic. I always read the word aloud, as if it were my first time seeing them.
HOLLYWOOD
I smiled. It was usually quiet on this viewing area, unless there were tourists, but even then not very many winded up looking out at the incredible view that I always saw. I started coming to this viewing area years ago. Actually, a decade ago. I was six when my father showed me this place. Now, as a sixteen year old, this was the only way I could speak to my father.
Five years ago, when I was only eleven, he went to the ER for constant headaches. They then poked and prodded at him until they came up with the answer. Brain cancer. The news devastated our family. It was too late to remove any tumor, so all we could do was watch him slowly deteriorate in the cream-colored hospital room. It was a week before my twelfth birthday when he left our family, our world.
I canceled my birthday party, I tore apart my room, I screamed at my family. The only thing I could do to make myself civilized was to race up Mount Lee. I would stare at the greying letters and remember my dad showing me the spot where LAND once stood, creating a sign that read HOLLYWOODLAND. I never believed him, even as a five year old, so he showed me a picture of the proud extra letters standing strong.
A month after my father's imminent death, I bleached my hair, replaced my wardrobe and changed myself from happy and loud to quiet and unsociable. Everyone wondered what ever happened to make me so... Changed. To this day, no one knows about my father. No one but him. They all think my dear Daddy is gone on business trips.
Little do they know, he'll never return.
About a year after, my hair finally grew back to its natural color. I stopped wearing my gothic clothing. I never returned to my happy self, but tried being more social. I hadn't gone up Mount Lee for a long time, too afraid I would cry. I didn't want my dad to see me cry. After all, he would want me to be happy. He would want me to think of all of the good times when we were happy and laughing, and how our relationship turned from Daddy-Daughter to best friends.
I leaned on the fencing surrounding the outside of the viewing area. I stared out over Los Angeles as I imagined that my father never left. I imagined he was standing right next to me. I imagined the strong scent of his cologne, wafting in the air around me.
I imagined he was still alive.
