Dracula
An ancient evil comes to London, and a small band of heroes must hunt it down before the darkness consumes them all.
Page 1
My name is Jonathan Harker. I am a solicitor from England, travelling to the Carpathian Mountains on business. The local people gave me warnings. "You must not go!" one woman pleaded, pressing a crucifix into my hand. "It is the eve of St. George's Day," another whispered, "when all evil things in the world have full sway!" But I must see this through. Now, as evening falls, a coach has come for me, pulled by four black horses. The driver is tall and impossibly strong, his face hidden in shadow as he sits high on the box. He has not spoken a word. The wolves howl in the dark forests around us as the coach climbs higher into the lonely, moonlit pass. I feel a dreadful foreboding, but my employer is depending on me.
Page 2
The Count is a gracious host. "Welcome to my house!" he said, his voice strangely hollow. "Enter freely and of your own will." He is a tall, elegant old man, and his castle library is filled with ancient books. But there are no mirrors, and I have seen no servants. We talk late into the night, and he shows me maps of England, his new home. "I long to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity," he explained, his eyes glowing. But when I tried to explore the castle this morning, I found every door locked. The windows are a sheer drop down the mountain. The Count's politeness is a cage. I see now that I am not a guest here. "I am a prisoner!" I wrote in my journal, my hand trembling.
Page 3
Tonight, I saw him crawl face-down from his window, slithering down the sheer castle wall like a monstrous lizard. Later, as I tried to sleep, three ghostly young women appeared in my room. They drew near, their eyes glowing, and whispered in a language I did not know. "He is young and strong," one seemed to say. "We are thirsty," said another. I felt a terrible desire to let them close, even as I was paralyzed with fear. Their touch was deathly cold. But suddenly the Count was there, his eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you touch him?" he roared, his voice like thunder. "This man belongs to me!" He swept them back with a gesture, and they vanished like mist. I must escape.
Page 4
My dearest Jonathan is still away, and I am so worried. To distract myself, I am staying with my friend Lucy in the seaside town of Whitby. A terrible storm blew in today, and we watched from the cliffs as a ship was driven toward the shore. "Look, Mina!" Lucy cried, pointing. "It's a Russian schooner!" The ship crashed onto the beach, its sails torn to ribbons. When the coast guard boarded it, they found no crew. Only the captain was there, tied to the wheel, cold and dead. As the ship hit the sand, a huge black dog was seen leaping from the deck. "It ran up the cliffs," a man shouted, "and disappeared among the gravestones of the old church!" A strange sense of dread has fallen over the town.
Page 5
My patient, Lucy Westenra, is fading. She grows paler and weaker each day, and on her throat are two tiny wounds. Her fiancé, Arthur, is beside himself. "Can you do nothing for her, Doctor?" he begged me. I sent for my old teacher, Professor Van Helsing. He hung garlic flowers all around Lucy's room. "It is a strange disease," he told us, his face grim. "We must not let her be alone tonight." Lucy woke and cried out, "His eyes! I can't close my own without seeing his red eyes!" Van Helsing held her hand. "We are fighting for her very soul," he said quietly. We are not fighting a simple sickness, but a monster.
Page 6
Lucy is gone, but her death brought no peace. Small children in the area have been found with marks on their throats, whispering of a 'bloofer lady.' Van Helsing has shown us something terrible: Lucy now walks at night, a creature of darkness. "To save her soul, we must perform a dreadful task," he told us. Her fiancé, Arthur, was overcome with grief. "Must I do this thing?" he asked, his voice breaking. "It is to give her peace, my boy," Van Helsing said gently. We gathered at her stone tomb in the dead of night. With a heavy heart, Arthur held a sharpened stake and a hammer. He steeled himself and, when it was done, the cruel look on Lucy's face vanished. She was beautiful again, and at peace at last.
Page 7
Jonathan has returned, having escaped from Dracula's castle! His journal has told us everything. We are all united now, a small band of hunters. "We will hunt this monster down and rid the world of him!" Jonathan declared, his voice hard as iron. We followed the Count to a ruined estate called Carfax. Inside the old chapel, we found dozens of wooden boxes filled with Transylvanian earth. "This soil is his strength and his sanctuary," Van Helsing explained. "We must make his safe havens into poison." We set to work at once. One by one, we opened the boxes and placed a sacred wafer inside, consecrating the earth. The air grew heavy and foul, but we did not stop until the work was done.
Page 8
The Count came for me as his revenge. While my friends were out hunting him, he appeared in my room, a dark pillar of smoke that became a man. My husband Jonathan lay in a stupor on the bed, powerless to help. "Since you are so precious to my enemies," Dracula hissed, his eyes burning like embers, "I will make you my own, flesh of my flesh." He held me fast and pressed a terrible, cold touch to my forehead, searing a mark of darkness upon my skin. Just then, Van Helsing and the others burst in. The Count recoiled and fled, turning to mist. But the damage was done. When Van Helsing touched my forehead with a holy wafer, it burned me. "Unclean!" I cried, hiding my face in shame. "Unclean!"
Page 9
My psychic link to the Count showed us his plan: he was fleeing back to his castle. We have caught up to the gypsies he hired to carry his last box of earth. "We must get to the box before the sun sets!" Van Helsing shouted over the fray. Our friends hold back the gypsies while Jonathan and our friend Quincey Morris leap onto the cart. "For Mina's sake!" Jonathan cried, fighting his way forward. There is a fierce struggle. Mr. Morris is gravely wounded, but he fights on. With a final effort, they throw open the lid of the box. Inside, the Count's eyes snap open. They are filled with triumphant hate. "We are too late!" I thought, my heart sinking as the last ray of sunlight vanished.
Page 10
But we were not too late. In that last instant of twilight, Jonathan and Mr. Morris struck with their knives. The Count’s body crumbled into dust and vanished on the wind. The curse was broken. The scar on my forehead disappeared. Our brave friend Quincey died peacefully. "It was worth it," he whispered with his last breath. Years have passed. We brought our son back to this land, to see the castle on the cliff where the darkness began. "Is the story really finished?" our boy asked, looking up at the high, dark towers. "Yes," Jonathan said, holding me close. "The story is finished." Snow was falling, blanketing the world in white. All was at peace, and the memory of that great evil was nothing but a story.
About this story
- Audience: general readers
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