I definitely fell in love with 'Dracula' when I was 13. I found

The words of Sara Canning—“I definitely fell in love with ‘Dracula’ when I was 13. I found it so fascinating and so dark and romantic.”—are not the idle recollections of a youthful memory, but the testimony of a spirit awakening to the mysteries of art and imagination. For within her confession lies a universal truth: that the heart, when young and unguarded, is stirred most deeply by stories that dance upon the edge of shadow and light. The tale of Dracula, with its blend of darkness and romance, is more than a novel; it is a mirror of the human soul, reflecting our fears, our desires, and our endless longing for the forbidden.

To fall in love with such a tale at the age of thirteen is no accident. That age, standing upon the threshold between innocence and awakening, is when the soul first begins to grapple with the great paradoxes of life. What is love, if not both wondrous and perilous? What is fascination, if not the mingling of dread and delight? When Canning embraced the world of Dracula, she joined a long lineage of seekers who understood that to grow, one must stare into the abyss and recognize its strange beauty. For it is in the mingling of terror and tenderness that the deepest truths are often revealed.

History too bears witness to this pattern. Consider Mary Shelley, who, at the tender age of eighteen, gave the world Frankenstein. She too found beauty in the mingling of shadow and light, crafting a story that was both terrifying and profoundly human. Like Canning’s affection for Dracula, Shelley’s creation was born of a fascination with the mysterious, the forbidden, and the tragic. Yet what she gave to the world was not mere fright, but a meditation on creation, responsibility, and the yearning for companionship. Thus, in both tales—Dracula and Frankenstein—we see how dark romance can ignite the imagination, shaping lives and reshaping culture.

The romantic darkness of such stories appeals to something eternal in us. It reminds us that love is never only sweetness, but also risk; never only light, but also shadow. Just as the night sky is pierced with stars, so too is passion tempered by danger, and desire edged with fear. Canning’s discovery of this truth through literature echoes across generations: the young must learn that beauty and peril often walk hand in hand, and that to seek depth in life is to encounter both.

Yet there is courage in this embrace. For many turn away from stories that unsettle them, seeking instead only the safe and the gentle. But those who dare to confront the fascination of darkness are often those who grow stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. They see life not as a simple tale of good or evil, but as a complex weaving where every thread, dark or bright, has its place. In falling in love with Dracula, Canning shows us that the heart is capable of finding beauty even in the places that frighten us most.

From this reflection, let us draw a lesson: do not fear the shadows in art, nor the shadows in your own heart. Read the stories that stir you, even if they disturb your peace. Ask yourself what they awaken in you, what fears they whisper, and what desires they reveal. In doing so, you will come closer to the truth of your own being. Just as Canning found fascination in Dracula’s tragic and dangerous beauty, so too can you find wisdom in the places where darkness and light embrace.

Practically, begin by opening yourself to the works that challenge you. If you love beauty, read of sorrow. If you cherish joy, explore tales of fear. Keep a journal, noting what such stories stir within you—what moves you, unsettles you, awakens you. And then, carry this awareness into your life, knowing that in every joy there is shadow, and in every sorrow there is hidden light. This balance is the essence of what it means to live fully.

Thus, Canning’s youthful confession is more than nostalgia. It is a beacon to all generations: that one may find truth in the fascination of what is dark and romantic, that art is both mirror and guide, and that the path to wisdom often leads through the very shadows we are taught to fear. Let us not shun those shadows, but learn from them, and so walk more bravely into the fullness of our own lives.