Sugar Valley (Hollywood's Darkest Secret)

by Stephen Andrew Salamon

  Damen began to push out his words. It was as if he was afraid to speak, the tears, in his mind, were drowning his tone, but he knew he had to do this. “I really hate the silence. I mean, I really hate it. But maybe silence could be your best friend and worst enemy at the same time. Even, even when I won the Oscar Award, I felt that silence, because, because you guys were missing and therefore, I didn’t cry of happiness altogether. I mean, I knew Maria was there, and that made me happy, but I knew something was missing. As a matter of fact, I never cried of happiness, and that’s what I want to do tonight. Come on, you guys, help me out with this.” Stopping, pausing, allowing his voice to take rest for a bit, due to the muscles his voice used to get all the words out, through the clogged tears and anguish, he stared away from the two stones, and then back again. “How the hell could everything fall apart so fast? I hate being alone at the top, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, we were gonna be a team. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” Another piece of silence came to his tone, voice, his painful way of speaking at the moment, and then turned back once again to face the stones. He then continued his mission: a mission of healing. “Um, I was so afraid, you know? I was so afraid, because this disillusionment of Hollywood; it really gets to ya. And without you guys, there to share it with me, to be by my side, I thought I was going to be even more afraid.” He began crying a bit, one more tear fell, but he kept on trying to push his words out, like a mission of truth, a mission to complete the end. The pressure in his mind from the tears was lessening, causing relief to settle inside of him, but still he had a lot more tears to go.

  All the tears that he ever shed were unlike this one tear that showed itself now. The tears from his past had all forms of meaning, from pain, sadness, jealousy, to exhaustion and fatigue. But, the tears in his mind, were tears sent by God, holy water, a piece of God’s own tears, that once released fully, gives a prosperous feeling that only angels get to have.

  “But, the truth is, I’m not anymore. I’m not going to blame myself anymore, I’m not. Look at me, I’m crying like a baby. Um, I, I realized, that even if you guys didn’t come with me, I would have still made it in Hollywood, only because I saw it happening, I envisioned myself being that person of fame. Everything happens for a reason, right? I’m not going to blame myself anymore. I’m not going to look at my reflection, and cry of sadness, anymore. And you know why? Because I’m alive. I’m still alive, and I want to enjoy the moment, for once in my life, of having this vision, my dream real. It’s weird, I cried before I made it big, because I wanted it so much, and after I made it, I still cried, because something else was missing: you guys. The past’s the past, and I’m finally happy with my life. Is that wrong?” Tears fell out more, it was like this virus, that was made up of guilt, sadness, and torment, was flowing out with his tears, and causing his heart to heal, to be happy and complete, like it should have been always.

  Damen’s tears then ceased, died, they stopped flowing, for the last time, and now the Valley, God himself, blessed Damen with its grace; the grace of prosperity. “I was proud when I won that Oscar, I was proud when I wrote about the Valley, and I was proud to have you guys as my best, best friends.” Damen then turned for a moment, and saw something out of the corner of his eye; it was a memory again. He saw himself, Jose, and Darell, all putting their hands together, and making a deal to go with on the journey to Hollywood. Damen began to smile, to laugh, the Valley’s kindness, its magic still was alive, and showed him a memory of happiness. So Damen went over to his satchel, and opened it, and caused the memory to turn to snow. The ghostly memories watched him as he pulled out a thick manuscript, the original he wrote. It had “Sugar Valley” imprinted on the front cover that was tinted with gray and he held it tight in his grasp, like a newborn baby seeing his father for the first time. “It belongs here now, I mean, you guys are the reason for it, this book. This is its home.” He took off the clasp of the manuscript, which held it together, and pulled out the papers within it; he held the loose, naked book in his hands. Damen took his left hand, and rubbed the letters on the manuscript, caressing it, as if it was alive, and a creature of innocence. “I know what the meaning of life is now.” He stopped his words for a moment, and continued with, “The meaning of life, is life. That’s it, you live it, you hate it, you love it, you remember it, and then you let it go, while thanking it.” He held the manuscript up higher to his chest, completing the ending to his novel, turning its end from fiction to nonfiction. “Thank you, Jose, for being my friend. Thank you, Darell, for, for being my friend too.” Damen then lifted the book up to his chest and said, “And, thank you, Sugar Valley, thank you.”

  He threw the pages up in the air, before it took flight, not knowing or feeling that a drop of his tears, a single drop that was finally a prosperous one, fell on the cover of his book, right on the title. He watched the pages separate within the wind, noticing the sunrise admitted its light right there and then, and began to lift his arms and dance in the rain of papers. Each paper that fell opened up its story and showed Damen a picture of his adventure. He saw them traveling on the train, he saw them getting in their first fight, he saw Jose get shot, he saw himself winning the Oscar, and he finally saw the last page, the ending to his book; a picture of himself, dancing around in a downpour of papers. He gave out a scream; it was a scream of happiness, of his hope being regained and reborn once more. Damen looked up at the morning stars that were above the falling papers, memories, the falling story of his life, and saw two of them twinkling in the distance. At that moment, he saw two shooting stars that soared across the sky, like fireflies racing the wind. Damen felt as if the stars symbolized Jose and Darell, and that brought a smile to his face. That’s when Damen whispered in pure tranquil, felicity-filled ecstasy, “Thank you, God, thank you for Sugar Valley.”

  THE BEGINNING

  About The Author

  STEPHEN ANDREW SALAMON is an award-winning author. He's the prolific writer of Sugar Valley (2014), The Wrath of Jeremy (2015), Mask of a Legend (2016), and many more that are scattered across different genres. He holds a BA degree from Columbia, in Screenplay Writing and Literature. He finished his first 100-page story at 14, wrote his first epic novel at 17 and was published by 21. He lives in downtown Chicago.