Bram Stoker's Dracula Retold

Jonathan's Journal - 15th May

I am now somewhat disturbed by Dracula and his ways – in more ways than simply when he is disturbing my sleep and wishing to talk.

I witnessed something that I did not at first believe possible. Looking out of one of the castle’s windows a two nights ago, I happened to glance down and found Dracula hanging out of a window below me. My first thought was he was pissed and could be about to hurt himself. It was a long way to the ground and to fall from the great height would have no doubt caused some considerable discomfort such as death.

What happened next though was not what I had anticipated. The Count crawled out of his window. This may not sound that extraordinary, and I know many will say they have seen many people crawl out of windows, particularly in the rough parts of the city where they crawl out with TVs and stereos in their arms. This was a different type of crawling – it was vertical.

I watched under the light of the moon as the Count crawled down the outer wall of the castle. His fingers griped the rough stones and his long, dirty toe nails clung to the crevices as he passed them.

I watched until he disappeared into the mist below the retreated from the window. I heard a sound in the still that made me pause. It sounded like the sound of a falling rock, a dull thud, and a vaguely human voice muttering, “fucking shoddy stonework.” I dismissed it. My mind was still reeling from what I had seen and was playing tricks with my hearing – it was doing the cup and ball trick.

I stood there for a long while. There was only one rational explanation I could think of – the Count was really a distant relative of Spiderman. I had to keep this to myself. I would need to get some kind of evidence of this before anyone would believe me – I couldn’t simply return to London and announce it.

I am beginning to see that Dracula was not all he at first seemed. He has secrets. There is a strong possibility that he is not quite human. He is in desperate need of a manicure.

Today I have once more observed the Count leaving the castle in this same fashion. He scales the walls like a human-shaped, white-haired, well-dressed lizard. Into the mist below he vanished and once more he will be gone for a considerable time.

I took to searching the castle once again, making sure to first heed the Count’s comments about begin careful. Begin careful, I locked Agnes in my room. If she let any rip in there it would hopefully have passed before I returned.

As usual I wandered aimlessly, trying doors and receiving no admittance. I now know what it feels like to be a Jehovah’s Witness. I rattled handles, twisted knobs and peered through keyholes until I was knackered. I’d been so intent on examining doors that I was also lost.

In my frustration I kicked out at the door before me. To my surprise it opened – or at least a hole opened in the wood when my foot went through it. I put my head to the gap.

“Here’s Johnny!” I said to an empty, dusty room.

I reached inside the hole and was able to turn the key in the lock. I finally had managed to do something the Count had not allowed me to. The only problem was I had not been entirely subtle about it. I just hoped Dracula wouldn’t notice the damage.

I entered the room and took a look around. It was not too dissimilar from my own although I did notice two differences immediately. The room I had discovered was on the west side of the castle, whereas mine was on the east. Looking from the window here, all I could see were mountains and dark craggy rock valleys. It seemed that from all but one side there was no access to the castle by mortal man. If you were a keen mountaineer or had the Count’s ability to scale walls then I am sure it would not have posed a problem.

The second difference was that the room seemed to be that of a lady. The furnishings certainly appeared more delicate than in other rooms, and the curtains were nothing but floating veils of silk. There was also an ancient, moth-eaten bra, DD-cup I estimated, hanging on the door of the wardrobe, and an equally unappealing lacy thong on the back of a chair. I did wonder if these garments had belonged to a female at some time, or if they were simply what the Count wore when he was on maid duty.

The room has a different air to other rooms I have been in. It is full of dust and tastes of damp, but it does not have the presence of the Count upon it. Since discovering that I am a prisoner I have come to hate the rooms that Dracula has entered. My senses tell me that he has not entered this room for some time, and despite the loneliness and eerie glow of the moon, I am more at peace here than in my own room.

As I bring my journal up-to-date at a table with three legs and a bad case of woodworm, I must say that I am feeling rather sleepy. A short nap away from my room cannot hurt. I will close this day with a yawn.

Yawn.