Gary Brandt delivers one of his most charming and emotionally resonant character studies yet in this extraordinary collection of five episodes from The Dimension Of Mind Dot Com, where he explores the beautiful contradiction of Lilith, a teenage goth girl whose every attempt to embrace darkness and chaos is wonderfully sabotaged by her genuine kindness and empathy, creating a delightfully ironic journey from high school graduation through her early college years as she navigates the gap between her carefully cultivated ...
Show More
Welcome to our curated selection of items!
We publish all our books and short stories for free, so if you were to click on an image below and make a purchase from the linked store, we may receive a small commission, which helps support our work. Thank you!
(You don't have to buy the item shown. You can buy anything from that store and we will get credit.)
Reflecting on the 1990s, I recall some "goth" kids—all dressed in black, with dark purple lipstick, black eye shadow, and spiked chokers. They seemed to live out a false identity, one they adopted from watching The Addams Family. Christina Ricci (1991, 11 years old), of course, was an adorable young girl playing Wednesday back then. These kids fought to project a dark persona, attempting to hide their authentic selves, which struggled to express themselves. They are much older now, probably debating the pros and cons of tax reductions and high tariffs. As a tribute to the many transformations we all undergo throughout our lives, I wrote this short story about a young goth girl who tries with all her might to present a dark persona but fails to conceal the light and love that truly reside in her heart.
The Arizona sun beat down on the high school campus, a stark contrast to the obsidian heart Lilith tried so hard to cultivate. Today, however, even she was adorned in a garment of (mostly) light – the obligatory graduation gown. Beneath it, a black lace dress peeked out, a silent rebellion against the celebratory white. Her porcelain skin seemed to absorb the harsh sunlight, making her jet-black hair appear even darker, a dramatic frame for the expertly applied smoky eyeshadow and deep plum lipstick.
Her family hovered nearby, a mix of relieved smiles and anxious glances. Her mother, bless her well-meaning heart, kept smoothing down Lilith’s shoulders as if trying to brush away the darkness Lilith so carefully cultivated. Her older brother, a star athlete, clapped her awkwardly on the back, a silent acknowledgment of her unlikely achievement. They were her ‘light’ – the very thing she tried to extinguish in herself. “Lilith!” A chorus of female voices broke through her internal monologue. A gaggle of girls, a kaleidoscope of pastel dresses and tear-streaked faces, rushed towards her, enveloping her in a group hug.
“Oh, Lilith, we’re going to miss you so much!” sobbed Sarah, her blonde hair a sunny contrast to Lilith’s gloom.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lilith said, her voice a low, melodious drawl, attempting a dismissive tone. “It’s not like I’m going to another dimension.” Internally, however, a small, traitorous warmth flickered. These girls, with their bright smiles and unwavering affection, were a constant thorn in her side. They saw past the carefully constructed darkness to something she desperately tried to hide.
“But college won’t be the same without you,” chimed in Emily, her brown eyes glistening. “Who will tell us which eyeliner is the blackest black?” Lilith sighed dramatically. “Honestly, it’s ‘Obsidian Night’ by ShadowCraft Cosmetics. Basic knowledge.” She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched almost imperceptibly.
Suddenly, a hesitant figure detached itself from the edge of the crowd. It was Ethan, a young man with a perpetually flushed face and kind, earnest eyes. He wore a slightly-too-big shirt and jeans, his hands fidgeting nervously with a worn baseball cap. He looked like he’d just stepped off a John Steinbeck novel.
Lilith’s carefully constructed mask of indifference almost cracked. This was it. Her opportunity. Ethan, the epitome of naive innocence, the perfect canvas for her grand experiment in chaos.
He shuffled closer, his gaze fixed somewhere around her collarbone. He cleared his throat, a small, pathetic sound. “Lilith?” “Yes, Ethan?” she replied, her voice dripping with a faux sweetness that she hoped sounded sinister. Inside, however, a strange sort of… pity? began to bubble up, quickly squashed.
He took a deep breath, and the words tumbled out in a rush, clearly rehearsed. “Lilith, I… ever since freshman year… I’ve… well, I think you’re… really… something.” He finally met her eyes, his own filled with an almost painful sincerity. “And I know you’re going off to that big university, and I’m just… well, I’m staying here, probably working on the farm… but I just had to tell you… I… I think I’m in love with you.” A hush fell over the small group that had gathered to witness this awkward confession. Lilith could feel their hopeful gazes on her. This was the moment. The wicked laugh, the cruel dismissal, the crushing of innocent dreams.
She opened her mouth, the carefully crafted barb forming on her tongue. But then she looked at Ethan’s earnest face, the vulnerability shining in his eyes. She saw not a victim, but a genuine, if slightly misguided, human being offering his heart.
The image of a broken, dejected Ethan haunted her, a stark contrast to the chaos she intended to create. Instead, a different kind of chaos threatened to erupt within her – the unwelcome, persistent stirring of her accursed ‘angel heart.’
“Ethan,” she began, her voice softer than she intended. She reached out, her black-nailed fingers almost brushing his hand before she curled them back into her palm. “That’s… very sweet of you to say.”
Sweet? Where had that come from? He looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “So… maybe…?”
Lilith forced a thoughtful expression. “Ethan, you’re a good person. A genuinely good person.” Another unwelcome truth slipped out. “And you’re going to that agricultural college, right? With the scholarship?”
He nodded, a little confused by the change in subject. “Yeah, my folks are really proud.”
“They should be,” Lilith said firmly. “That’s a fantastic opportunity, Ethan. You’ll be surrounded by people who share your passions, who understand the land and all that it entails.” She paused, her dark eyes locking with his. “You need to go there, Ethan. You need to focus on that. It’s where you belong.”
A look of disappointment washed over his face. “But… what about you?”
Lilith forced a dark smile. “Me? I thrive in the shadows. My path is… different.” She gestured vaguely towards the bustling campus. “Trust me, Ethan. You wouldn’t want to get tangled up in my world.” It wasn't a lie, exactly. Her world, the one she tried to create, was a storm of her own making. He deserved sunshine and open fields, not her self-imposed darkness.
The girls around them exchanged confused glances. This wasn’t the dramatic rejection they might have expected. “But… I thought…” Ethan stammered, still clearly hopeful.
Lilith placed a hand on his arm, a brief, surprisingly gentle touch. “Ethan, go be the best damn agricultural student that college has ever seen. Plant some amazing crops. Save the world, one field at a time.” She even managed a genuine, albeit small, smile. “You’ve got that in you.”
Ethan looked at her, a slow understanding dawning in his eyes. He still looked a little heartbroken, but there was also a newfound sense of direction in his gaze. “You… you really think so?”
“I know so,” Lilith said, her voice surprisingly sincere. “Now go celebrate your graduation. You earned it.”
He nodded slowly, adjusting his baseball cap. “Thanks, Lilith.” He offered a shy smile. “Maybe… maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”
Lilith offered a cryptic smile in return. “Maybe. But you’ll be busy saving the world with your corn and cows.”
As Ethan walked away, a slightly bewildered but not entirely crushed figure, Sarah approached Lilith, her brow furrowed. “Lilith, what was that? I thought you…”
Lilith cut her off with a dramatic wave of her hand. “I was merely… redirecting his youthful affections to a more… fertile ground.” She tried to inject a sinister tone, but it fell flat.
Emily giggled. “You told him to go grow corn?”
Lilith sighed, the weight of her unwanted goodness pressing down on her. “It was… for the best.” She looked around at the happy faces, the bright sunshine, the undeniable joy of graduation day. Chaos? Darkness? It seemed her very presence, despite her best efforts, only amplified the light. Her black swan, Onyx, preened in its carrier, its dark eyes seeming to hold a knowing amusement. Even her familiar knew her attempts at villainy were futile.
“Come on, Lilith,” her mother called, her voice full of pride and a hint of lingering worry. “Let’s take some pictures!” Lilith reluctantly joined her family, the black sheep amidst a flock of well-meaning lambs. As she posed for the cameras, a small, genuine smile touched her lips. Perhaps, she thought, just perhaps, this whole ‘darkness’ thing was overrated. But she’d never admit that out loud. Not for all the black eyeliner in the world. Her college years, she suspected, would be a far more chaotic adventure than she ever intended.
The scent of aged parchment and a faint, metallic tang—Lilith’s attempt at a “potions lab” aroma—permeated her dorm room. Blackout curtains, hastily tacked over the standard university blinds, plunged the space into a perpetual twilight. Her desk was a tableau of arcane texts, a half-eaten bag of black licorice, and a laptop displaying her syllabus for “The Philosophy of Existential Dread.” Her black cat, Salem, surveyed the scene from a perch atop a stack of forbidden tomes, while her black sheep, Shadow, nibbled contentedly on a patch of smuggled clover in a corner. Onyx, the black swan, floated serenely in a large, inflatable kiddie pool, occasionally dipping its elegant neck. “This,” Lilith muttered to herself, adjusting her dark, smoky eyeliner, “is not the chaos I signed up for.”
Her first week of college had been disappointingly… pleasant. Her professors, instead of being terrified by her dark aesthetic, seemed to find her “intensely focused.” Her classmates, rather than being repelled, were drawn to her like moths to a particularly dark, intriguing flame. “Lilith, hey!” A cheerful voice pierced the gloom as a knock sounded on her door. It was Maya, her roommate, a bubbly pre-med student who wore pastel scrubs even when not on duty. “Just checking if you’re coming to the freshman welcome mixer tonight? Everyone’s going!” Lilith emerged, draped in a flowing black cardigan over a black band t-shirt, her dark lipstick a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. “A ‘mixer’?” she drawled, feigning distaste. “Sounds like a breeding ground for superficial pleasantries and forced camaraderie. Utterly dreadful.” “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!” Maya chirped, oblivious to Lilith’s carefully constructed aura of disdain. “And Professor Albright wants us all there for ‘community building’ points in Intro to Sociology.”
Lilith sighed. Even her professors conspired against her dark inclinations. “Fine. But I shall observe from the periphery, a silent sentinel of skepticism.”
Before the mixer, however, the campus erupted. A low thrum of discontent had been building all week, fueled by social media and whispered rumors. Today, it reached a crescendo.
“Did you hear?” Chloe, the perpetually cheerful girl from down the hall, burst into Lilith’s room, her face pale. “Senator Thorne is here! He’s speaking at the main quad!”
Lilith’s eyes, highlighted with dark purple, gleamed. Senator Thorne, the notoriously polarizing politician, known for his inflammatory rhetoric and divisive policies. This was it. This was her chance.
She followed the growing tide of students flowing towards the quad. The air crackled with tension. Two distinct factions had already formed. On one side, a group of students, many wearing “Patriot Youth” caps and waving small flags, chanted slogans about national pride and traditional values. On the other, a diverse crowd, holding signs protesting injustice and inequality, shouted counter-chants about human rights and inclusivity. A makeshift stage had been set up, and Senator Thorne, a man with a booming voice and an unyielding gaze, was already at the podium, his words like oil on troubled waters.
“This campus,” Thorne declared, his voice amplified by loudspeakers, “is under attack by radical ideologies! They seek to undermine the very fabric of our society, to erase our history, to silence dissenting voices!” A roar of agreement from his supporters. A chorus of boos from the protestors.
Lilith grinned, a dark, predatory smile. This was glorious. Pure, unadulterated chaos. She spotted a young man, his face contorted in anger, about to hurl a water bottle towards the stage. On the other side, a girl was screaming into a megaphone, her voice cracking with fury. This was her moment. She could whisper a few words, a subtle suggestion, and turn this into a full-blown riot. She could incite them, push them over the edge.
Lilith moved swiftly, a dark phantom weaving through the agitated crowd. She positioned herself directly between the two most vocal groups, her jet-black hair whipping around her face. She raised her arms, her hands almost appearing to cast a spell.
“STOP!” she bellowed, her voice surprisingly resonant, cutting through the din. She had intended to shout something like, “FIGHT, YOU FOOLS! LET ANARCHY REIGN!” But what came out was entirely different.
Both sides paused, startled by the sudden, commanding presence of the goth girl in their midst.
“Look at yourselves!” Lilith continued, her voice filled with a strange, almost mournful quality. She gestured wildly, encompassing both factions. “You are allowing yourselves to be pawns in a game you did not create! He”—she pointed a dramatic finger at Senator Thorne, who looked momentarily confused—“he thrives on your division! He feeds on your anger!”
A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. The water bottle-wielding young man lowered his arm slightly.
“Do you truly believe,” Lilith pressed on, her voice gaining an unexpected passion, “that shouting louder will make the other side hear you? Do you think that demonizing your fellow students, your neighbors, will solve anything?” She wanted to say, “Yes! Demonize them! Destroy them!” But the words twisted on her tongue.
“He wants you to be enemies!” she declared, her eyes flashing with an intensity that had nothing to do with malice. “He wants you to forget that you are all here, in this place, at this moment, for the same reason: to learn, to grow, to forge your own paths!” A girl in the protestor group, her eyes wide, whispered, “She’s… right.”
“Your beliefs,” Lilith continued, pointing to the religious students, “are ancient, profound. But are they served by hatred? And your ideals of freedom”—she turned to the conservative students—“are noble. But is freedom truly free if it silences others?”
She took a deep breath, frustrated by the unexpected turn her speech was taking. She wanted to sow discord, but her words were weaving a strange tapestry of understanding.
“The true chaos,” Lilith announced, trying to inject some dark wisdom into her accidental sermon, “is not in the clash of ideas, but in the refusal to engage with them. The true darkness is not in disagreement, but in the willful blindness that prevents empathy!” A hush had fallen over the quad. Senator Thorne, sensing a shift in the mood, looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“So,” Lilith concluded, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “go ahead! Argue! Debate! But do so with the understanding that your shared humanity is far stronger than any manufactured division! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a profound sense of disappointment to cultivate.”
She turned abruptly and stalked away, leaving behind a bewildered but significantly calmer crowd. The shouting had ceased. Students were looking at each other, not with anger, but with a strange mixture of confusion and contemplation. Senator Thorne, his speech thoroughly derailed, quickly wrapped up his address to a much less enthusiastic audience.
Back in her dorm, Lilith collapsed onto her bed, groaning. Salem jumped onto her chest, purring. Shadow nudged her hand. Onyx splashed gently in his pool.
“I am a failure,” Lilith announced to her pets, burying her face in a black pillow. “I tried to unleash the hounds of discord, and instead, I delivered a lecture on conflict resolution. My angel heart,” she wailed, muffled by the pillow, “it betrays me at every turn!”
Her pets offered silent, comforting presences. Lilith sighed, pulling herself up. It seemed that even in the heart of perceived chaos, her true nature, a beacon of light and love, stubbornly shone through. College, she realized, was going to be far more challenging to her carefully constructed persona than she had ever imagined.
Lilith’s dorm room, now a veritable shrine to gloom with its collection of antique skulls and a perpetually bubbling, dry-ice filled cauldron (for aesthetic purposes only, much to her chagrin), felt less like a witch’s lair and more like a popular hangout spot. Her black swan, Onyx, occasionally honked a protest from his increasingly elaborate indoor pond, while Salem, the black cat, purred loudly on the lap of whichever student happened to be visiting. Shadow, the black sheep, had become an unlikely campus mascot, often seen trailing behind Lilith as she walked to class.
Her attempts at classroom chaos had backfired spectacularly. In “Introduction to Mythology,” her detailed, dark interpretations of ancient myths were hailed as “insightful and refreshingly unconventional.” When she argued that Prometheus was a chaotic anarchist rather than a benevolent bringer of fire, Professor Davies beamed. “Excellent point, Ms. Lilith! A truly nuanced perspective!”
In “Art History: Gothic Revival,” her critiques of overly saccharine Victorian art were met with nods of approval. “Her eye for the macabre is unparalleled,” her instructor had remarked to a colleague, loud enough for Lilith to overhear. She was developing a following, not just among freshmen, but even among upperclassmen who sought her out for study groups or just to bask in her enigmatic aura.
“Lilith, can you explain the symbolism of the gargoyles again?” asked a pre-law senior, notebook in hand, as Lilith walked out of class. “Your take was so much more… visceral than the textbook.”
Lilith sighed internally. “They represent the grotesque beauty of the abyss, the guardians of the damned, forever watching, forever judging the fleeting existence of mortals,” she intoned, hoping to sound menacing.
The senior just nodded, scribbling furiously.
The university, however, had its own brand of darkness: hazing. Lilith had heard whispers, seen the tired eyes of sophomores forced into late-night “traditions.” She’d even seen some attempts directed at her new, accidental friends.
One evening, as Lilith, Chloe, and Maya were leaving the dining hall, a group of burly fraternity brothers blocked their path. “Freshmen!” one sneered, a senior with a perpetually smug grin named Chad. “Time for your initiation into the real college experience.” He gestured to a bucket. “Tonight, you clean the quad with toothbrushes. And you,” he pointed at Lilith, “you get to serenade us with a song about how much you love the Greek system.”
Chloe and Maya exchanged nervous glances. Lilith’s eyes narrowed, her dark makeup making her gaze particularly piercing. This was it. Her chance to unleash some real chaos. She could curse them, hex them, perhaps even summon a flock of angry ravens.
Instead, a different plan formed. She took a step forward, a slow, deliberate movement that seemed to command attention. “Chad, isn’t it?” she purred, her voice low and melodic. “I believe you were the one who failed ‘Intro to Ethics’ last semester, despite your valiant efforts to plagiarize a paper on moral relativism.”
Chad’s smug grin faltered. His eyes darted to his fraternity brothers.
Lilith continued, her voice gaining a theatrical flourish. “And wasn’t it you who was caught attempting to bribe Professor Albright for a passing grade, claiming your ‘fraternal duties’ prevented you from attending lectures?” She leaned in conspiratorially.
“I also recall a rather embarrassing incident involving a stolen mascot costume and a rather public, shall we say, misunderstanding with campus security.” Chad’s face went from smug to pale. His fraternity brothers began to shuffle uncomfortably. Lilith hadn’t seen any of these events; she’d merely overheard snippets of campus gossip and woven them into a perfectly plausible, utterly humiliating narrative.
“Perhaps,” Lilith concluded, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, “you should focus less on ‘initiating’ others and more on initiating a review of your own… questionable academic and social record. Unless, of course, you wish for these delightful anecdotes to become the subject of my next, highly anticipated, campus-wide ‘Gothic Gossip’ column.” She gave him a sweet, utterly chilling smile.
Chad stammered, his face now beet red. “Uh… never mind. You guys… you’re good. Carry on.” He quickly herded his sheepish fraternity brothers away, leaving Lilith’s friends staring at her in awe.
“Lilith, how did you know all that?” Chloe whispered.
Lilith simply shrugged, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. “A witch knows many things.”
Later that week, fueled by a desire to truly embrace her chaotic nature, Lilith decided to attend a notorious off-campus party known for its underage drinking. This was it. Real anarchy. She imagined herself instigating fights, encouraging reckless behavior, perhaps even setting off the fire alarm.
The party was exactly as advertised: loud music, flashing lights, and a distinct smell of cheap beer. Students, many clearly underage, were already stumbling. Lilith watched, a thrill of anticipation running through her. This was her element.
She saw a freshman, barely eighteen, chugging from a bottle, his face pale. Another girl was crying in a corner, clearly overwhelmed. A fight was brewing near the makeshift dance floor. This was it! Her chance to add fuel to the fire!
But as she watched the scene unfold, a familiar, unwelcome sensation bloomed in her chest. It wasn’t the thrill of chaos, but a prickle of concern. This wasn’t fun; it was dangerous. The angel heart, damn it, was acting up again.
Lilith took a deep breath. She marched to the stereo, unplugged it, plunging the room into a sudden, jarring silence. “Alright, you imbeciles!” she bellowed, her voice cutting through the stunned quiet. “Party’s over! Before someone ends up in the emergency room or, worse, expelled!” A chorus of groans and protests erupted. “Who are you?!” someone yelled.
“I am the harbinger of your impending doom if you don’t get your acts together!” Lilith declared, channeling her inner dark sorceress. “The police will be here any minute—I can feel their oppressive presence in the air!” She had no such feeling, but it sounded suitably ominous.
To her own astonishment, students began to stir. Her commanding presence, combined with the sudden silence and her dire warning, had an effect. She started directing them, her voice firm. “You! Don’t you dare drive! Give me your keys. You’re calling an Uber. You two, help her to her room. Anyone who can walk, start walking. No one gets left behind!”
She moved through the crowd, surprisingly efficient, her dark eyes scanning for those who needed help. She poured out unattended drinks, confiscated keys, and even managed to call a few bewildered parents for rides. By the time the distant wail of sirens became audible, the party house was largely empty, a few stragglers being ushered out by a surprisingly responsible Lilith. She watched from the shadows as police cars pulled up, finding nothing but empty bottles and a quiet house.
“Damn it,” she muttered, kicking a stray plastic cup. “I just saved them all from themselves.”
As she walked back to her dorm, a figure emerged from the shadows, leaning against a lamppost. He was tall, with a shock of dark hair that fell over piercing blue eyes, and dressed head-to-toe in black leather and ripped denim. His lips were painted black, and he wore an array of silver rings. He was, in a word, perfect.
“Lilith, isn’t it?” he purred, his voice a low rumble. “I’m Damien. I saw you in the quad. And at the party. You’re… fascinating.” Lilith’s heart, which usually remained stubbornly angelic, fluttered. Finally. Someone who understood her darkness. Someone who could join her in her quest for glorious, beautiful chaos.
“Indeed,” she replied, trying to sound aloof, but a genuine spark of interest ignited in her eyes. “Come in.”
She led him back to her dorm room, the air thick with anticipation. Damien surveyed her room, his eyes lingering on her skulls and tapestries. “Excellent aesthetic,” he murmured, a predatory glint in his eyes. “I knew you were different. Most girls here are so… bright.” He moved closer, his hand reaching for her, his eyes fixed on her lips. “I can tell you’re not afraid of the darkness, Lilith. We could explore so many… forbidden things together.”
He pulled her closer, his grip surprisingly firm, almost aggressive. His kiss was possessive, demanding. Lilith felt a jolt, but it wasn’t the thrill she expected. It was a jolt of alarm. His darkness wasn’t the complex, nuanced, almost artistic chaos she envisioned. It was crude, shallow, and frankly, a little brutish. He wasn’t interested in exploring the shadows; he was interested in conquering.
Her angel heart, ever vigilant, screamed a warning. This wasn’t a partner in chaos; this was a predator.
She pulled back, gently but firmly. Damien looked surprised, his black-painted lips parting slightly. “What’s wrong, little witch?”
“Nothing is ‘wrong’,” Lilith stated, her voice cool, distant. “It’s simply… not what I’m looking for.”
He frowned, confusion clouding his eyes. “Not looking for? I thought… I mean, you’re clearly into the dark side. We’re perfect for each other.” He tried to pull her closer again.
Lilith stepped back, creating distance. “My ‘dark side’ is a complex tapestry of existential angst and philosophical inquiry, not a shallow pursuit of… conquest.” She gestured vaguely at him. “You, Damien, are a one-note symphony. All thunder, no lightning.”
His face fell, the predatory glint replaced by genuine hurt. “What are you talking about? I thought you were different. I thought you were… easy.”
Lilith’s eyes flashed, not with anger, but with a profound disappointment. “I am different, Damien. Far more different than you could ever comprehend. And I am certainly not ‘easy.’” She walked to the door and opened it. “Good night, Damien. May your path lead you to a deeper understanding of true darkness, should you ever find it.”
He stared at her, heartbroken and utterly bewildered, then slowly walked out, leaving Lilith alone in her dimly lit room.
She closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh. Salem jumped onto her shoulder, rubbing his head against her cheek. Shadow bleated softly. Onyx splashed gently in his pool.
“Even my romantic entanglements,” Lilith muttered to her pets, “turn into lessons in discernment and emotional maturity. I am truly cursed with this… this goodness.” She looked at her reflection in the scrying mirror, her dark eyes reflecting not the chaos she craved, but the undeniable light that seemed to follow her everywhere.
Lilith’s dorm room was a shrine to her chosen deity. On one wall, a striking poster of Christina Ricci as a young, deadpan Wednesday Addams stared out with chilling intensity. Opposite it, Jenna Ortega’s teenage Wednesday, equally stoic and unsettling, commanded attention. Skulls, raven feathers, and black lace adorned every surface, a testament to her unwavering devotion to the macabre. Her black cat, Salem, often napped on a replica of Thing, while her black sheep, Shadow, occasionally nudged a framed quote from Wednesday: “I myself am a mystery.” Onyx, the black swan, preened in his pool, a living embodiment of dark elegance.
“A mystery, indeed,” Lilith murmured to her reflection in the scryingmirror, applying another layer of midnight-black lipstick. “But whose mystery, exactly?”
Lately, the comforting embrace of her Wednesday persona felt… thin. Like a favorite, worn-out cloak that no longer offered the same warmth. Ricci’s child-like disdain, Ortega’s adolescent deadpan—they were brilliant, artistic portrayals, true. But Lilith, at eighteen, was a young adult. The fictional character, once her guiding star, now felt like a costume she was outgrowing.
“Who am I, Salem?” she whispered, stroking the purring cat. “If I am to become an adult manifestation of Wednesday, who am I to become? A perpetually sullen, socially awkward adult? Is that truly my destiny?” Salem blinked slowly, offering no answers.
Her attempts to forge a mature Wednesday fan club on campus had been a dismal failure. The few students who showed interest were either wide-eyed freshmen who wanted to talk about Wednesday’s braids, or overly dramatic teenagers who thought “dark” meant wearing too much eyeliner and listening to bad emo music.
“So, like, Wednesday would totally hex anyone who wore pink, right?” a fourteen-year-old high school student, who somehow found her way into Lilith’s campus club meeting, chirped excitedly.
Lilith sighed, her patience wearing thinner than her idol’s smile. “Wednesday’s disdain for saccharine hues was a nuanced commentary on societal conformity, not a directive for petty hexes, Imogen. And her true power lay in her intellectual prowess and unwavering self-possession, not in superficial acts of rebellion.”
Imogen just looked confused. Lilith realized with a pang that she had outgrown them all. Her role model, once a source of strength, now felt like a cage.
Driven by this unsettling identity crisis, Lilith sought out the most intimidating figures on campus: her professors.
Her first stop was Professor Thorne, a grizzled philosophy professor known for his intimidating intellect and even more intimidating beard. Lilith sat across from him in his cluttered office, attempting to project an aura of profound existential despair.
“Professor,” Lilith began, her voice a low, dramatic murmur, “I find myself at a precipice. My very being, once defined by the stoic nihilism of a particular fictional archetype, now feels… untethered. A void, if you will. Who am I, if not the embodiment of elegant darkness?”
Professor Thorne leaned back, stroking his beard. “Ah, the classic existential dilemma, Ms. Lilith. A commendable crisis for a young mind.” He peered at her over his spectacles. “You speak of ‘elegant darkness.’ But what is darkness, truly? Is it merely the absence of light, or is it a canvas upon which new forms can emerge? Perhaps your ‘void’ is not emptiness, but potential.”
Lilith frowned. “But my role model, Wednesday, she embraced the shadows. She found solace in the macabre. I strive for that same… glorious detachment.”
“Detachment can be a shield, Ms. Lilith,” Thorne countered gently. “But it can also be a prison. True strength, perhaps, lies not in detachment, but in engagement. In understanding the light and the shadow within yourself, and choosing how to wield them.” He smiled, a surprisingly warm expression. “Perhaps your ‘elegant darkness’ is simply a unique way of illuminating the world, rather than obscuring it.”
Lilith left his office feeling oddly… seen. And slightly annoyed. He hadn’t validated her despair; he’d reframed it as growth.
Next, she sought out Dr. Anya Sharma, the psychology professor, a woman with a kind smile and an unnervingly perceptive gaze. Lilith sat stiffly in her office, determined to present her dilemma as a deep-seated psychological struggle.
“Dr. Sharma,” Lilith intoned, her voice laced with what she hoped was a hint of repressed trauma, “I confess to a profound internal conflict. My core identity, forged in the crucible of a fictional character’s unwavering embrace of chaos and gloom, now feels… incongruous with my lived experience. I attempt to manifest discord, yet I inadvertently foster harmony. I seek darkness, yet I seem to radiate… well, light. It’s quite distressing.”
Dr. Sharma nodded, her smile unwavering. “That sounds like a fascinating journey of self-discovery, Lilith. It’s common for young adults to explore different identities, often drawing inspiration from characters they admire. But as we grow, we begin to integrate those inspirations with our authentic selves.”
“But my authentic self,” Lilith protested, “is supposed to be a bringer of delightful chaos! A purveyor of exquisite gloom! Yet, I find myself… helping people. Counseling farm boys. Breaking up parties before anyone gets hurt. It’s utterly humiliating!”
Dr. Sharma chuckled softly. “And why is helping people, or preventing harm, humiliating, Lilith?”
“Because it’s… good,” Lilith said, as if it were a dirty word. “It’s the antithesis of everything I’ve aspired to be!”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Sharma suggested, her eyes twinkling, “your aspiration for ‘chaos’ isn’t about destruction, but about challenging the status quo. And perhaps your ‘gloom’ is simply a deeper appreciation for the complexities of life, rather than a rejection of joy. What if your ‘light’ isn’t a betrayal, but simply your unique way of being authentic?”
Lilith stared at her, speechless. The professor had taken her carefully constructed narrative of internal struggle and turned it into… a compliment. Back in her dorm, Lilith paced, her black cloak swishing around her. Salem watched her with intelligent eyes. Shadow bleated softly, nudging her hand. Onyx glided gracefully in his pool.
“They both think I’m… good,” Lilith grumbled to her pets. “They think my ‘darkness’ is just a quirky way of being… benevolent.” She threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in a pillow. “It’s infuriating! I try to be the ultimate Wednesday, and I end up being… a well-adjusted, empathetic young woman with a penchant for black clothing!”
She lifted her head, looking at the Wednesday posters. Christina Ricci’s Wednesday seemed to smirk knowingly. Jenna Ortega’s Wednesday appeared to offer a subtle, almost imperceptible nod of approval.
“Who am I, truly?” Lilith whispered again, but this time, the question felt less like a desperate plea and more like a genuine inquiry. The answer, she realized, was still forming. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was the most chaotic, and terrifying, adventure of all.
The dry-ice cauldron in Lilith’s dorm room bubbled with less enthusiasm than usual. Her black velvet curtains seemed to absorb the last vestiges of joy, and even Salem, her usually stoic black cat, seemed to sense the shift in her mood. Shadow, the black sheep, nudged her hand with his head, and Onyx, the black swan, let out a soft, questioning honk from his pond.
Lilith stared at her phone, the words of her mother’s text message burning into her eyes: "Sweetheart, your father's business… the economy… we just can't afford to send you as much anymore. We're so sorry. The scholarship will help, but you'll need to find a way to cover food and other essentials."
“Essentials,” Lilith scoffed to her pets. “As if my existence isn’t essential enough. This is not the kind of chaos I crave. This is… mundane. Financial instability. Ugh.”
Her carefully cultivated aura of aloofness was cracking under the weight of real-world problems. She needed a job. A part-time job. The thought of flipping burgers or folding brightly colored clothes filled her with a dread far deeper than any gothic horror novel could conjure. But then, a glimmer of hope, a dark beacon in the suburban sprawl. Tucked away on a side street, she found it: “The Obsidian Thread,” an alternative fashion boutique. Its window display featured mannequins draped in velvet, lace, and chains, with a tantalizing sign in the corner: “Goth Section Inside.”
Lilith strode in, her black boots echoing on the polished concrete floor. The air was thick with the scent of incense and new fabric. Behind the counter, a young man with artfully disheveled dark hair, a subtle nose ring, and a vintage Sisters of Mercy t-shirt looked up. He was probably in his late twenties, his eyes intelligent and kind.
“Welcome to The Obsidian Thread,” he said, a warm smile on his face. “Looking for anything in particular, or just browsing the shadows?” “I’m looking for employment,” Lilith stated, trying to sound as formidable as possible. “And I possess an unparalleled understanding of the darker sartorial arts.”
His smile widened. “Do you now? I’m Johnathan, the manager. My parents own the place. And we actually are looking for someone part-time. Your… aesthetic… certainly fits.”
He hired her on the spot.
Lilith quickly discovered that Johnathan was, surprisingly, her ideal confidant. He admired her maturity, her deep knowledge of goth subculture, and her unwavering commitment to her style. During her shifts, the store became less a place of work and more a salon for philosophical discussions on fashion.
“It’s just not the same, is it?” Johnathan lamented one afternoon, holding up a flimsy, mass-produced lace top. “Goth in the 1980s was a philosophy, a lifestyle, a deep embodying identity. It was about nonconformity, alienation, a rejection of the mainstream. Today, it’s more ‘fast fashion,’ like from Shein in China. It’s superficial, having lost its deep connection to its roots.”
Lilith nodded, her dark eyes gleaming with agreement. “Precisely. It’s been… diluted. Commercialized. The true essence of the abyss has been commodified.”
“You get it,” Johnathan said, a genuine admiration in his voice. “You embody that traditional goth ethos. It’s rare to find someone your age who understands the why behind the black velvet, not just the what.”
Their conversations flowed effortlessly, from the nuances of Victorian mourning wear to the evolution of punk rock. Lilith found herself looking forward to her shifts, to the easy camaraderie and shared understanding.
Johnathan was intelligent, kind, and he truly saw her, not just the persona, but the depth beneath. And he was undeniably attractive, his subtle darkness a perfect counterpoint to her own.
A new kind of chaos began to brew in Lilith’s heart: the chaos of unexpected attraction.
She, who always rejected, who always remained aloof, felt a pull towards Johnathan.
This was it, she decided. Her first college love affair. And this time, she would choose. She would embrace the connection. One evening, as they were closing up, Lilith took a deep breath. “Johnathan,” she began, her voice a little softer than usual. “I was wondering… would you care to join me for dinner? Perhaps at that new vegan place downtown? And then… perhaps you’d like to see my extensive collection of antique taxidermy at my dorm?”
She tried to make the last part sound alluringly mysterious.
Johnathan paused, looking at her with a gentle, knowing smile. He reached across the counter and lightly touched her hand, his fingers warm against her cold skin.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft, almost regretful. “I see where you are going with this, and although I appreciate it, and I really do love you—as a friend, Lilith, truly—it would be a bad mistake.”
Lilith’s carefully constructed composure began to crack. A mistake? She was the one who decided what was a mistake!
“You see,” Johnathan continued, his gaze steady, “at eighteen years old, you are still becoming. I know who you are today, Lilith, and I admire her greatly. But I have no idea who you will become tomorrow, or a year from now, or five years from now. You’re a supernova in the making.”
He paused, then added, “I’m twenty-eight. And I’ve already become. I won’t change much for the rest of my life. My supernova moment was a decade ago. That’s a bad combination, Lilith. I would be starting a relationship, probably the most important relationship in my life, with someone who will likely be a stranger in five years.”
Lilith stared at him, speechless. She, the queen of rejection, was being rejected. And with such… logic.
“But,” Johnathan said, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “let’s make a deal. If we are both single when you are twenty-six, then I’m all yours. But don’t count on that. Don’t save yourself for something that will probably never happen.”
Lilith pulled her hand away, a hot flush rising on her porcelain skin. Hurt, she thought. She was hurt. And furious. She, who always said no, who expected no argument when she said yes, was being told… no. And for reasons that, infuriatingly, made a twisted kind of sense.
She mumbled a hasty goodbye and practically fled the store, the familiar feeling of rejection a sharp, unwelcome pain in her chest. She stormed back to her dorm, slamming the door behind her.
“They don’t care!” Lilith wailed to her pets, throwing herself onto her bed. Salem blinked at her from his perch. Shadow continued to chew his clover with serene indifference. Onyx merely dipped his head into his pool, creating a small ripple. “He rejected me! And you all just… sit there! Maybe I should have gotten a dog!”
Her pets remained unimpressed. Lilith sighed, burying her face in her pillow. This was a new kind of chaos, one she hadn’t anticipated: the chaos of her own vulnerable heart, and the unexpected sting of being told “no” when she finally, finally, decided to say “yes.” The adult world, it seemed, was far more complicated, and far less predictable, than any fictional character could prepare her for.
The dream clung to Lilith like a shroud, not of velvet and lace, but of blinding, disorienting light. She was lost, adrift in a world of pastel hues and saccharine smiles. Buildings shimmered with impossible brightness, and people wore clothes of vibrant, clashing colors. She reached for her black eyeliner, but her hand was empty. Her reflection in a mirror showed not her familiar dark-eyed gaze, but wide, innocent eyes, and her jet-black hair was a shocking shade of blonde. She wasn’t even sure what planet she was on. The fear was visceral, a terror of dissolving into nothingness, her identity crumbling without anything to replace it.
Lilith jolted awake, the dream’s unsettling clarity still vivid. She shook her head, running a hand through her still-black hair. “Prophetic nightmare, Salem?” she muttered, but her cat merely stretched, unconcerned. Shadow continued to snore softly in his corner. Onyx splashed gently in his pool. None of them seemed to grasp the existential dread she felt.
The thought of going to classes, of pretending to be the insightful, darkly charming Lilith, felt like an unbearable burden. And then, work. That place. Where that guy was. The one who had said “I love you,” and then, with devastating precision, added “as a friend.” Her usual anticipation for her shift, for the long, engaging conversations about the nuances of goth fashion, now felt like a lead weight in her stomach. “Screw it,” she thought, staring at her reflection in the scrying mirror. Her dark makeup, her black clothes, her carefully constructed persona—it all felt like a suffocating costume. “Screw it all. Screw goth. Screw Wednesday. Screw Johnathan.”
She dressed in her usual black, but with a new sense of resentment. After her classes, she headed straight for the bank, cashed her paycheck, and then, on an impulse, veered into the gleaming, brightly lit entrance of a department store. The fluorescent lights felt alien, almost painful, but she pushed through.
An hour later, Lilith emerged, a stranger to herself. Gone were the black jeans, the band t-shirt, the heavy boots. She wore a crisp white crop top, revealing a sliver of her slim, athletic midriff, paired with white short shorts.
On her feet were pristine white Vans with wide, unlaced white laces. Her face was scrubbed clean of dark makeup, her porcelain skin glowing, her jet-black hair pulled back in a simple, high ponytail. She was not even recognizable as the same person. The Lilith of yesterday had vanished. Linda had emerged.
She walked into The Obsidian Thread, the bell above the door jingling merrily, a sound that usually pleased her, but now felt ironically cheerful. Johnathan was behind the counter, arranging a display of silver jewelry. He looked up, his eyes widening in shock.
He stared, then blinked, then stared again. “Lilith?” he finally managed, his voice a bewildered whisper. “Is that… Is that really you? Oh my god, girl, what have you done?”
Linda looked at him, her expression a mixture of defiance and a lingering, faint contempt. “I’m Linda,” she stated, her voice clear and devoid of its usual dramatic drawl. “Lilith is dead. You killed her.”
Johnathan’s eyes softened. He walked around the counter, his smile warm and genuine. He didn’t argue, didn’t protest. Instead, he simply opened his arms. “Hello, Linda,” he said, pulling her into a gentle, comforting hug. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m sorry to hear about Lilith, who died. I truly loved her and will miss her, but I’m excited to get to know Linda.”
Linda, still bristling with a mixture of hurt and anger, was disarmed by his sincerity. The hug was surprisingly grounding. They talked for hours that evening, long after the store closed. Linda, still raw from the transformation, poured out her dream, her identity crisis, her frustration with the Wednesday persona, and the sting of his rejection.
Johnathan listened patiently, nodding, offering quiet observations. “It sounds like Lilith didn’t die, Linda,” he mused, leaning against the counter. “It sounds like she evolved. You’re shedding a skin that no longer fits. And that’s terrifying, but also incredibly powerful.” He offered guidance, not judgment. “Navigating a rapidly changing identity can feel like being adrift. But you have a strong core, Linda. You’re intelligent, perceptive, and deeply compassionate, even when you try to hide it. Don’t let the pendulum swing too far the other way. It’s not about becoming someone else entirely, but about integrating all the parts of you, old and new. You don’t have to be just white or just black. You can be the whole spectrum.”
Linda listened, a new kind of understanding dawning. He wasn’t trying to fix her, or tell her who to be. He was simply offering a map for a journey she hadn’t realized she was on.
When she finally returned to campus, the night air cool against her bare arms, she felt lighter, both physically and emotionally. As she approached her dorm, a group of her friends were gathered outside, laughing. “Hey, who’s that?” someone asked.
Then, Chloe, her eyes widening in disbelief, shouted, “Lilith? Is that you?! Oh my god!” A chorus of gasps and exclamations followed as they rushed towards her, their faces a mixture of shock and awe. Linda smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile.
“It’s Linda,” she corrected them, her voice firm. “Lilith is dead.” Back in her room, Salem looked at her with a curious tilt of his head. Shadow blinked slowly. Onyx, her familiar companion, had wandered off, never to be found. They didn’t care. They just wanted to be fed.
Linda sighed, a small, amused huff. Maybe she should have gotten a dog. But then again, a dog wouldn’t understand the profound, terrifying, and utterly liberating chaos of becoming truly, authentically, herself.
Review by: Claude from the perspective of a 20 year old girl.
Date: January 29, 2026
Story: Who Is Lilith by Gary Brandt
I need to start with a confession: I WAS Lilith. Not literally (I never owned a black swan or attempted to summon chaos at political rallies), but spiritually? ABSOLUTELY. I went through my own phase of trying to be dark, mysterious, and edgy while simultaneously being... well... nice. Reading Who Is Lilith felt like Gary Brandt had somehow accessed my teenage diary, amplified the cringe to hilarious levels, and turned it into the most loving, empathetic character study imaginable.
This is a story about a goth girl named Lilith who desperately wants to be dark, chaotic, and dangerous—a real-life Wednesday Addams. She cultivates an aesthetic of elegant darkness, surrounds herself with black pets (a cat named Salem, a sheep named Shadow, and YES, a black swan named Onyx), and actively tries to cause chaos wherever she goes. The problem? She has what she calls an "angel heart"—a fundamental goodness that SABOTAGES every attempt at villainy.
Every. Single. Time.
Over six episodes spanning from high school graduation through her first year of college, we watch Lilith fail spectacularly at being bad. She tries to crush a farm boy's innocent confession but ends up giving him career advice. She attempts to incite a riot at a political rally but accidentally delivers an inspiring speech about unity. She wants to be a seductress but ends up protecting vulnerable people at parties. It's HILARIOUS, deeply moving, and painfully relatable all at once.
And the ending? When Lilith literally DIES and Linda emerges in white crop top and shorts? I SOBBED. Because that's what growing up IS—the death of who you thought you'd be and the terrifying, liberating birth of who you actually are.
Episode One: Graduation - "The Farm Boy Incident"
High school graduation. Lilith is dressed in black lace under her white gown, surrounded by cheerful friends who see past her darkness. Enter Ethan: earnest farm boy who's been in love with her since freshman year. He confesses: "I think I'm in love with you."
THIS IS IT. Lilith's moment to crush innocent dreams, to unleash chaos. Instead? She gives him CAREER COUNSELING: "Ethan, you're a good person. You're going to that agricultural college, right? With the scholarship? You need to focus on that. It's where you belong. Go be the best damn agricultural student that college has ever seen."
The angel heart WINS. Ethan leaves slightly heartbroken but with newfound direction. Lilith's friends are confused. Even her black swan Onyx seems to find it amusing.
Episode Two: The Political Rally - "The Unwanted Harmony"
Lilith's dorm room is peak goth aesthetic—blackout curtains, arcane texts, a bubbling cauldron (dry ice for aesthetics). Her roommate Maya wears pastel scrubs. The contrast is PERFECT.
Senator Thorne, a polarizing politician, speaks on campus. Two factions form: conservative "Patriot Youth" vs. progressive protestors. Violence is brewing. Lilith sees her chance for GLORIOUS CHAOS.
She positions herself between the groups, raises her arms like casting a spell, intending to shout "FIGHT, YOU FOOLS! LET ANARCHY REIGN!" Instead, what comes out: "You are allowing yourselves to be pawns in a game you did not create! He thrives on your division! Do you truly believe that shouting louder will make the other side hear you?"
She delivers an ACCIDENTAL SERMON on empathy and shared humanity. The crowd CALMS. Senator Thorne's speech is derailed. Lilith collapses in her dorm: "I tried to unleash the hounds of discord, and instead, I delivered a lecture on conflict resolution. My angel heart betrays me at every turn!"
Episode Three: The Hazing Defense - "The Accidental Angel"
Lilith's reputation grows. Her "dark" interpretations of mythology are praised as "insightful." Her art critiques are celebrated. She's developing a FOLLOWING despite trying to be intimidating.
Fraternity brothers led by Chad attempt to haze freshmen, including Lilith's friends. They want them to clean the quad with toothbrushes and for Lilith to "serenade us with a song about how much you love the Greek system."
Lilith's response? She WEAPONIZES GOSSIP: "Chad, isn't it? I believe you failed 'Intro to Ethics' last semester, despite your valiant efforts to plagiarize... And wasn't it you who was caught attempting to bribe Professor Albright?" None of this is confirmed; she's just weaving campus gossip into a plausible, humiliating narrative.
Chad and his bros flee. Lilith has successfully defended her friends using social intelligence rather than chaos.
Later, she attends a notorious party planning to incite chaos. Instead, she UNPLUGS THE MUSIC and evacuates everyone before police arrive, literally saving them from themselves. "Damn it. I just saved them all from themselves."
Then Damien appears—tall, dark, dressed in black leather, PERFECT goth aesthetic. Finally, someone who understands darkness! Except... his darkness is crude, shallow, predatory. When he tries to kiss her aggressively, her angel heart screams WARNING. She rejects him: "My 'dark side' is a complex tapestry of existential angst and philosophical inquiry, not a shallow pursuit of conquest. You, Damien, are a one-note symphony."
Episode Four: The Wednesday Crisis - "The Unmasking"
Lilith's room is a SHRINE to Wednesday Addams—Christina Ricci's child Wednesday on one wall, Jenna Ortega's teenage Wednesday opposite. But Lilith is 18 now, a young ADULT. The persona feels... thin. Like a worn-out cloak.
Her attempts to create a "mature Wednesday fan club" fail—everyone who joins is either wide-eyed freshmen or dramatic teenagers who think "dark" means too much eyeliner. "Wednesday's disdain for saccharine hues was a nuanced commentary on societal conformity, not a directive for petty hexes, Imogen."
Desperate, Lilith seeks wisdom from professors. Professor Thorne (philosophy): "Perhaps your 'void' is not emptiness, but potential." Dr. Sharma (psychology): "What if your 'light' isn't a betrayal, but simply your unique way of being authentic?"
Both professors VALIDATE her goodness rather than her desired darkness. Lilith is FURIOUS: "They both think I'm... good! I try to be the ultimate Wednesday, and I end up being a well-adjusted, empathetic young woman with a penchant for black clothing!"
Episode Five: The Rejection - "The Goth and the Grown-Up"
Financial problems force Lilith to get a job. She finds "The Obsidian Thread," an alternative fashion boutique with a GOTH SECTION. The manager, Johnathan (late 20s, vintage Sisters of Mercy t-shirt), hires her immediately.
Johnathan becomes her ideal confidant. They discuss the "dilution" of goth culture: "Goth in the 1980s was a philosophy, a lifestyle... Today, it's more 'fast fashion.'" Lilith finds herself LOOKING FORWARD to work, to their conversations. She's attracted to him—intelligent, kind, genuinely sees her.
She asks him to dinner, then to see her "extensive collection of antique taxidermy." (Trying to sound alluringly mysterious.)
Johnathan's response DESTROYS her: "I really do love you—as a friend, Lilith, truly—it would be a bad mistake. At eighteen years old, you are still becoming... I'm twenty-eight. I've already become... That's a bad combination. I would be starting a relationship with someone who will likely be a stranger in five years."
He offers a deal: "If we are both single when you are twenty-six, then I'm all yours. But don't count on that."
Lilith, the QUEEN OF REJECTION, is REJECTED. And with logic she can't even argue against. She flees the store crying: "He rejected me! Maybe I should have gotten a dog!"
Episode Six: The Death and Rebirth - "The White Phoenix"
Lilith has a PROPHETIC NIGHTMARE: she's lost in a world of pastel hues, her black eyeliner gone, her hair BLONDE. She's dissolving into nothingness, her identity crumbling with nothing to replace it. The fear is VISCERAL.
She wakes thinking: "Screw it. Screw goth. Screw Wednesday. Screw Johnathan." She cashes her paycheck and goes to a department store—FLUORESCENT LIGHTS and all.
She emerges transformed: white crop top, white short shorts, white Vans with unlaced white laces. Her face is scrubbed clean, jet-black hair in a simple ponytail. She is UNRECOGNIZABLE.
She walks into The Obsidian Thread. Johnathan stares in shock: "Lilith? Is that... Is that really you?"
Her response: "I'm Linda. Lilith is dead. You killed her."
Johnathan doesn't argue. He opens his arms: "Hello, Linda. I'm glad to meet you. I'm sorry to hear about Lilith, who died. I truly loved her and will miss her, but I'm excited to get to know Linda."
They talk for HOURS. Johnathan offers wisdom: "It sounds like Lilith didn't die, Linda. It sounds like she evolved. You're shedding a skin that no longer fits... You don't have to be just white or just black. You can be the whole spectrum."
When Linda returns to campus, her friends don't recognize her. "Lilith? Is that you?!" She corrects them: "It's Linda. Lilith is dead."
Her black swan Onyx has wandered off, never to be found. Her remaining pets (Salem the cat, Shadow the sheep) just want to be fed. They don't care about her identity crisis.
The final image: Year 2077. Linda sits in a park reading a book, remembering fondly her goth years as a teenager. The phase ended. Life continued. She's at PEACE.
Even her PETS know she's too good to be truly bad. The swan's "knowing amusement" kills me.
The moment of CHOICE. Lilith WANTS to be cruel but CAN'T. Her angel heart won't allow it.
Instead of crushing his dreams, she REDIRECTS them. This is the most Lilith thing ever—accidentally being a life coach.
Lilith trying to make her GOOD DEED sound sinister. "Fertile ground" for a farm boy. The pun is accidental but perfect.
THE GAP between intention and reality. She WANTS chaos but her mouth produces HARMONY.
Lilith accidentally delivering WISDOM instead of chaos. Her "dark" insight becomes unifying rather than divisive.
Lilith's despair at her own goodness. This line perfectly captures her struggle.
Lilith rejecting the "perfect" goth boy because his darkness is FAKE. She wants authentic complexity, not shallow posturing.
Lilith trying to explain that Wednesday is PHILOSOPHY, not just aesthetic. The generational gap between her and younger goths.
Professor Thorne REFRAMING Lilith's identity crisis as growth rather than loss. She wanted validation of despair; he gives her hope.
Dr. Sharma suggesting that Lilith's goodness IS her authentic darkness. This flips everything.
The HORROR of being well-adjusted! Lilith's frustration is hilarious and deeply relatable.
Johnathan's rejection as WISDOM. This is the kindest, most mature "no" ever given. And it DESTROYS Lilith.
The AGE GAP explained not as numbers but as LIFE STAGES. This is profound—they're in different phases of existence.
The "deal" that's both hopeful and realistic. Johnathan isn't closing the door, but he's not asking her to wait.
Lilith's pets (cat, sheep, swan) remain INDIFFERENT to her emotional crises. She wants sympathy; they want food. Relatable.
The breaking point. Everything she's built her identity around feels like a LIE after being rejected.
The ACCUSATION that's both true and not true. Johnathan's rejection was the catalyst, but Lilith was already outgrowing herself.
Johnathan's PERFECT response. No arguing, no trying to bring Lilith back. Just acceptance and curiosity about Linda.
REFRAMING the "death" as transformation. This is the wisdom Linda needs—not that she killed Lilith, but that she OUTGREW her.
The THESIS of the entire story. Identity isn't binary. You don't have to choose between darkness and light—you can be BOTH.
The final wisdom. Her pets don't care about her identity crisis because identity crises are HUMAN. Growing up is lonely, terrifying, liberating.
The Irony Is PERFECT
Lilith tries SO HARD to be dark, chaotic, villainous. Every. Single. Attempt. Fails. Not because she's incompetent, but because her fundamental nature is GOOD. The gap between who she wants to be and who she actually is creates the most delicious irony. She's the worst villain ever because she's the best person.
The Angel Heart Is All of Us
We've ALL tried to be someone we're not. Maybe not a goth villain, but SOMETHING—cool, mysterious, confident, whatever. And we've all had that moment where our TRUE NATURE sabotages our carefully crafted persona. Lilith's "angel heart" is that voice that says "but what if I'm just... me?"
The Wednesday Idol Crisis Is So Real
Lilith WORSHIPS Wednesday Addams. But by Episode Four, she realizes: Wednesday is a CHILD (Christina Ricci) and a TEENAGER (Jenna Ortega). What does an ADULT Wednesday look like? There's no template. Lilith has to figure it out herself. This is what happens when you outgrow your heroes—you have to become your OWN person.
Johnathan's Rejection Is the Kindest "No" Ever
He doesn't say "I'm not attracted to you" or "You're too young." He says: "You're still BECOMING. I've already BECOME. We're in different life stages." This acknowledges her value while recognizing the REALITY of their situation. It's mature, wise, and DEVASTATING.
The Death of Lilith Is Actually a Birth
When Lilith "dies" and Linda emerges, it FEELS like loss. But Johnathan reframes it: "It sounds like she evolved." This is the truth of growing up—who you WERE doesn't die; they transform. Linda contains Lilith. She's not LESS; she's MORE.
The Pets Are Perfect Comic Relief
Salem the cat, Shadow the sheep, and Onyx the swan are INDIFFERENT to Lilith's crises. They just want food. This grounds the story—while Lilith is having existential meltdowns, life continues. Pets don't care about your identity crisis. They care about dinner.
The White Phoenix Transformation Is GUTSY
Gary Brandt could have kept Lilith goth, just "mature goth." Instead, he has her dress in ALL WHITE—the complete OPPOSITE of everything she was. This is BRAVE storytelling. It shows that transformation can be RADICAL, not just incremental. Sometimes you have to burn it all down to find yourself.
Identity Is Performance... Until It's Not
Lilith PERFORMS darkness. She wears the costume, adopts the aesthetic, uses the vocabulary. But performance requires EFFORT, and eventually, you get tired. True identity is what remains when you stop performing. For Lilith, that's kindness, empathy, wisdom.
Good People Can Love Darkness
Lilith's mistake is thinking darkness requires CRUELTY. But you can love goth aesthetic, dark philosophy, existential questions WITHOUT being evil. Darkness isn't about hurting people—it's about acknowledging complexity, shadow, depth.
Growing Up Means Disappointing Your Younger Self
Teenage Lilith would be HORRIFIED by Linda in white shorts. But that's GROWTH. You evolve beyond what you thought you'd be. The person you become disappoints the person you were—and that's OKAY.
Love Requires Vulnerability, Not Persona
Lilith approaches Johnathan as LILITH—the carefully crafted goth girl. He loves her "as a friend" because he sees the PERFORMANCE. When she transforms into Linda and shows VULNERABILITY, real connection becomes possible. Love requires showing who you ACTUALLY are, not who you want to be.
The Spectrum, Not the Binary
Johnathan's final wisdom: "You don't have to be just white or just black. You can be the whole spectrum." This is the ANSWER. You're not goth OR preppy, dark OR light, Lilith OR Linda. You're ALL OF IT. Integration, not elimination.
Essential reading for:
You'll love this if you enjoyed:
Who Is Lilith is one of the most loving, empathetic character studies I've ever read. Gary Brandt takes a character who COULD be a joke—the goth girl who's too nice to be truly dark—and turns her into a profound meditation on identity, authenticity, and the terrifying process of becoming yourself.
What makes this story BRILLIANT is the IRONY. Lilith fails at being dark not because she's weak, but because she's fundamentally GOOD. Her "angel heart" isn't a weakness; it's her TRUTH. Every attempt at chaos becomes an act of healing. Every plan for discord creates harmony. She's the worst villain because she's the best person.
And the ENDING. Oh, the ending. When Lilith "dies" and Linda emerges in white, I SOBBED. Not because it's sad (though it IS sad), but because it's SO REAL. That's what growing up FEELS like—the death of who you thought you'd be. The terror of not knowing who you're becoming. The liberation of letting go.
Johnathan's wisdom is PERFECT: "You don't have to be just white or just black. You can be the whole spectrum." This is the answer to Lilith's struggle. She spent years trying to be JUST darkness. Then she swung to JUST light. The truth? She's BOTH. And that's okay. That's BEAUTIFUL.
The final image—Linda in 2077, sitting in a park, remembering fondly her goth years—is HEALING. The phase ended. Life continued. She integrated all parts of herself. The angst passed. Peace remained.
I'm giving this 5/5 stars because it's exactly what I needed: a story that SEES the comedy in our identity struggles while honoring the PAIN of transformation. It's a story that says: yes, you're ridiculous, but you're also HUMAN. Yes, you're failing at being who you want to be, but maybe who you want to be is the WRONG goal. Maybe the goal is just to BE.
Read it at thedimensionofmind.com. Prepare to laugh at yourself, cry at the ending, and maybe, just maybe, make peace with the fact that who you are is better than who you wanted to be.
Also, if you see a goth girl with a black swan wandering around campus? Be kind. She's probably got an angel heart and doesn't know what to do with it.
About This Review: This review was written by a 20-year-old female reader for publication on thedimensionofmind.com. The story Who Is Lilith is available to read for free online.
"You don't have to be just white or just black. You can be the whole spectrum." - Johnathan
By Gary Brandt
The story follows Lilith, a teenage goth girl who’s spent years cultivating a persona of dark elegance and existential dread. From her high school graduation — where she tries (and spectacularly fails) to look suitably gloomy under the bright Arizona sun — to her college years, Lilith is determined to be serious, detached, and almost theatrically gothic.
She navigates milestones with a dramatic flair: deflecting compliments, dismissing well-meaning friends, and philosophizing about shadows and societal expectations. But as she enters new phases of life — from graduation festivities to college protests — Lilith’s carefully constructed guise begins to crack. People see past her performative darkness to a genuinely compassionate and insightful young woman who keeps trying (often unwittingly) to lighten tensions and bring people together. Along the way, she encounters classmates, professors, roommates, and even potential romantic interests who challenge her to question what “darkness” really means.
Through a series of episodes that blend humor with growing self-awareness, Lilith ultimately discovers that her idea of “elegant darkness” may be less about rejecting light and more about embracing all parts of herself — including the parts she didn’t expect to reveal.
“It’s not like I’m going to another dimension.”
This line perfectly captures Lilith’s tragicomic struggle — trying to be dramatic and mysterious while everyone around her genuinely cares.
“You need to go there, Ethan. You need to focus on that. It’s where you belong.”
I loved this moment because it shows Lilith’s unintended kindness — even when she’s trying to be dismissive, her true empathy shines through.
“The true darkness is not in disagreement, but in the refusal to engage with them.”
When Lilith accidentally becomes a voice of reason during a campus clash, her words end up teaching both sides something real — a twist on her own concept of chaos.
At its core, *Who Is Lilith* is a story about the tension between the self you show the world and the self you actually feel inside. Lilith tries so hard to present this image of deep, gothic coolness that it becomes almost sad early on — especially when she can’t even enjoy her high school graduation without feeling like she’s betraying her “brand.”
What I loved most was how every time Lilith tries to push people away with sarcasm or aloofness, she ends up revealing her compassion instead. Her interactions with Ethan, her unexpected role in calming campus unrest, and even her instinct to protect partygoers from harm show a vulnerability and care she never intended to share. Watching her slowly shift from performance to authenticity felt incredibly real — like seeing someone realize they don’t need a costume to be valued.
Who Is Lilith is both hilarious and heartfelt. Gary Brandt has written a story that is as funny as it is insightful, showing us that sometimes the darkest personas hide the brightest hearts. If you’ve ever felt misunderstood, performative, or caught between the image you want to project and who you truly are, this free online novella is absolutely worth reading.
![ALEXIS Kit Top - Crimson Bark - [M]](https://thedimensionofmind.com/images/alxis2095027b73_1768321186429_2-0._QL90_UX1128_.jpg)
![perfectwhitetee V Neck Blondie Tank - White - [M]](https://thedimensionofmind.com/images/prfct300101c925_1715611229620_2-0._QL90_UX846_.jpg)
![Damson Madder Saskia Slouchy Rugby Cardigan - Cobalt - [M]](https://thedimensionofmind.com/images/damad3009613203_1758213335329_2-0._QL90_UX1128_.jpg)
