You eat breakfast alone, noting how strange it is that you have not seen the Count eat or drink. Afterward, you do a little exploring in the castle. You go up the stairs and find a room looking toward the south.
The view is magnificent. The castle is on the very edge of a terrific cliff. A stone falling from the window would fall a thousand feet without touching anything! A sea of green treetops stretches as far as the eye can see. There are also silver threads where the rivers wind through the forests.
You explore the castle further. Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all are locked and bolted. There are no available exits except the windows in the castle walls. You realize with dread that the castle is a prison, and you are a prisoner!
A sort of wild feeling comes over you. You rush up and down the stairs, trying every door and peering out every window you can find. You behave much as a rat does in a maze.
When you are finally exhausted, you sit quietly, as quietly as you have ever done anything in your life. You begin to think over what to do, yet you arrive at no definite ideas. Your only plan will be to keep your knowledge and your fears to yourself.
You cautiously return to your room and find the Count making the bed. This confirms that there are no servants in the house. Furthermore, it must have been the Count himself who was the driver of the coach that brought you here.
What does it mean that he can control the wolves by only holding up his hand for silence? How was it that all the people at Bistritz had some terrible fear for you? Why were you given the crucifix? Bless that good, good woman who hung the cross around your neck! It is a comfort and a strength.
That evening, the Count greets you with a question that causes your heart to sink. “Have you written your first letter to anyone since your arrival?” he asks.
It is with bitterness in your heart that you answer. “I have not, as I have not seen an opportunity of sending any letters.”
“Then write now, my young friend,” he says, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Write to your new bride, and say that you shall stay with me until a month from now.”
Your heart grows cold at the thought. “Do you wish me to stay so long?” you ask.
“I desire it much. I will take no refusal.”
Once again, you wish to say no. However, you are beginning to understand the Count for what he is: true evil. What will happen if you refuse him? Do you wish to find out? Or will you continue to do what he says until the bitter end? The decision is yours. What will you choose to do?
Refuse the Count.
Write the letter.
You pause for a moment, choosing your words very carefully. “I am truly sorry, my friend,” you say at last. “If I could stay longer, I would. However, I am newly married, and my wife is heartbroken by my absence. I simply cannot remain here more than a few days.”
The Count smiles widely, revealing his long pointed teeth, but his eyes flash with rage. “I am sorry to hear that,” he hisses.
He rises and begins to pace back and forth across the room. The anger on his face makes him even more ghastly than before. You dare not look at him in this state, so you stare downward. You try to ignore him as he marches faster, his feet thumping loudly against the floor.
He makes his way behind you, and you’re struck by the idea to move away from him. You begin to do just that, but you are too late.
In an instant, the Count is upon you. “How dare you refuse me!” he bellows.
His fingers grip your throat, and he lifts you into the air. You struggle madly against him, but the Count’s strength is too great. You kick and thrash and gasp, trying to suck even a single breath of air into your lungs. Your vision begins to fade out, and that’s when the Count releases you.
You collapse to the ground. You have just enough time to scramble onto your hands and knees. Then the Count is upon you again. He lunges at your throat, and you feel his teeth pierce your neck. After that, you feel nothing more. Not ever again.
Try again.
What can you do but accept? While Count Dracula speaks, there is a sinister look in his eyes which reminds you that you are a prisoner. You nod your head and bow.
The Count smiles wickedly as he says, “I ask that you will not discuss things other than business in your letters. It will please your wife to know that you are well and that you look forward to getting home. Is it not so?” He hands you a sheet of note paper and an envelope.
You look at the paper and then at him. You notice his quiet smile, with his sharp teeth lying over his red lip, and you understand that you should be careful what you write, for he will read it.
The Count waits while you write your letter. Then he takes yours and places it with a few of his own. “I trust you will forgive me, but I have much work to do in private this evening.” At the door he turns and says, “Let me advise you, my dear young friend. No, let me warn you not to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old and has many memories. There are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. Be warned! Should sleep ever overcome you, hurry to your room, for your rest will be safe. But if you are not careful, then...”
He does not finish his sentence, but you understand.
After a little while, you go up the stone stairs to where you can look out toward the south. There is some sense of freedom in the fresh air. There is peace and comfort in every breath.
As you lean from the window, your eye catches something moving a story below you, where the windows of the Count’s own room look out. You draw back behind the stonework and watch carefully.
You see the Count’s head coming out of the window. You are at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But your feelings change to terror when you see the whole man slowly emerge from the window. He begins to crawl down the castle wall—over the dreadful abyss—face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings.
You cannot believe your eyes, but you keep looking. You see his fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, as he moves downward with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall.
What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature? You feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering you. You are in fear, in awful fear, and there is no escape. You are trapped with terrors that you dare not think of.
4. No Longer Alone
You know the Count has left the castle. You can use the opportunity to explore more than you have dared to do as yet. Taking a lamp, you try every door. They are all locked. So you go down the stone stairs to the hall where you first entered the castle. You find that you can pull back the bolts easily enough, and you can unhook the great chains. But the door is locked, and the key is gone! It must be in the Count’s room.
You need to escape—that is perfectly clear. But do you dare venture into the Count’s private bedroom? He is away, yet you do not know for how long. If he should return and discover you in his room, your fate will be sealed. However, finding the key may be your only means of escape. What will you choose to do?
Sneak into the Count’s room.
Stay out of the Count’s room.
You are terrified. Your hope is fading. Escape is your only option, so you decide to take the risk. You rush down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet for you know that you are alone.
You hurry to the Count’s bedroom door; you must find the key swiftly. But your plan is thwarted before it truly begins. You turn the knob and press hard against the door. It does not move.
You cry out in frustration. If you can only get into his room! But there is no possible way. The door is locked.
Click here to continue.
Now is not the time. Instead, you will watch for his door to be left unlocked so that you may get the key and escape.
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You go on to make a thorough examination of the various stairs and passages, and you try the doors. One or two small rooms near the hall are open, but there is nothing to see in them except old, dusty furniture.
At last, however, you find one door at the top of the stairway which, though it seems locked, moves a little under pressure. You try it harder and find that it is not really locked. The hinges have fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rests on the floor. With many efforts, you force the door back so that you can enter.
You find yourself in a new wing of the castle. It is farther to the right and a story lower than the rooms you have explored. From the windows you can see that the castle is built on the corner of a great cliff, so that on three sides it is quite secure.
There is loneliness in this place. It chills your heart and makes your nerves tremble. Still, it is better than being in the presence of the Count. After trying a little to calm your nerves, you find a peace come over you. You write in your diary for a while, until you feel sleepy.
The Count’s warning comes into your mind. Is he being truthful? Are there more dangers lurking about? Or is he covering up some secret that he hopes you will not discover? You must sleep, but should you return to your room? Or will you stay where you are? What will you choose to do?
Return to your room.
Sleep where you are.
You do not trust the Count, but you fear him. It is better to do as he says. You hurry out of that place and back to your room. You ready yourself for bed, and then you crawl under the covers. For the moment, at least, you feel safe.
Morning comes. You awaken with a fresh attitude. There is something peculiar about the Count, but you must hope that he is harmless. You start to wonder if you have allowed your fears and your imagination to run wild—and in that moment, you make a decision. From now on, you will do as the Count commands. You will obey his every wish.
When the Count asks you to write letters home, you do it. When he locks you in your room, you remain there without question.
Many weeks pass. Eventually, June 29 arrives, and you are awakened by your host. He looks at you grimly and says, “Tomorrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work. In the morning come the gypsies, who have some work of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you and take you to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.” The last you see of him, he smiles at you with a red light of triumph in his eyes.
The next day comes and goes. The Count’s carriage never arrives, so again you find yourself sleeping at Castle Dracula. You lie down and close your eyes, but you suddenly realize that you are not alone. The room is the same, unchanged in any way. Yet, in the moonlight opposite you, there are three young ladies. At first, you think you must be dreaming, for they cast no shadow on the floor.
They come close to you, look at you for some time, and then whisper together. Two are dark and have dark, piercing eyes that seem almost red. The other is fair, with golden hair and eyes like diamonds. All three have brilliant white teeth that shine like pearls against their ruby lips.
There is something about them that makes you uneasy, some deadly fear. They whisper together, and then they all laugh.
One says, “Go on! You are first. We shall follow.”
The fair girl advances. You are afraid to move, so you pretend to sleep. The girl goes on her knees, and she licks her lips like an animal. Lower and lower her head falls below your chin. Then the skin of your throat begins to tingle. You feel the hard dents of two sharp teeth. Her teeth pierce your neck. After that, you feel nothing more. Not ever again.
Try again.
You take pleasure in disobeying the Count. The sense of sleep is upon you. The soft moonlight soothes you, and you decide not to return to your room. You lie on a couch, looking out the window at the lovely view.
You suddenly realize that you are not alone. The room is the same, unchanged in any way. Yet, in the moonlight opposite you, there are three young ladies. At first, you think you must be dreaming, for they cast no shadow on the floor.
They come close to you, look at you for some time, and then whisper together. Two are dark and have dark, piercing eyes that seem almost red. The other is fair, with golden hair and eyes like diamonds. All three have brilliant white teeth that shine like pearls against their ruby lips.
There is something about them that makes you uneasy, some deadly fear. They whisper together, and then they all laugh.
One says, “Go on! You are first. We shall follow.”
The fair girl advances. You are afraid to move, so you pretend to sleep. The girl goes on her knees, and she licks her lips like an animal. Lower and lower her head falls below your chin. Then the skin of your throat begins to tingle. You feel the hard dents of two sharp teeth.
At that instant, you see the Count’s strong hand grasp the slender neck of the fair woman and pull her back. His blue eyes transform with fury, the white teeth champing with rage, and the fair cheeks blazing red with passion. With a fierce sweep of his arm, he hurls the woman from him, and then he motions to the others. It is the same gesture that you saw used on the wolves.
“How dare you touch him, any of you?” the Count snarls. “How dare you cast eyes on him when I have forbidden it? Back, I tell you all! This man belongs to me!” Then the Count softens. He says to them in a soft whisper, “I promise that when I am done with him you shall have him. Now go! Go! I must awaken him, for there is work to be done.”
The women disappear, simply fading into the rays of the moonlight. Then the horror overcomes you. While you live here, there is just one thing to hope for: that you do not go insane, if you are not already insane. And with that thought, you pass out.
You awaken in your own bed. The Count must have carried you here. Your room has been so full of fear, but it is now a sort of safety net. Nothing can be more dreadful than those awful women, who were—who are—waiting to drink your blood.
In the daylight, you return to that room again. When you get to the doorway at the top of the stairs, you find it closed. It has been driven shut so hard that part of the woodwork is splintered. You can see that the door is locked from the inside.
Night comes, and the Count once more appears. He asks in a cool tone, “Please write three letters, one saying that your work here is nearly done. You should start for home within a few days. Another that you are leaving on the next morning from the time of the letter. The third that you left the castle and have arrived at Bistritz.”
You wish to refuse, but it would be madness to argue with the Count while you are in his power. You dare not anger him. He knows that you know too much and that you must not live. Your only chance is to stay alive long enough to escape. Yet if you write these letters, you may very well be helping the Count get away with murder—your murder! If he succeeds in killing you, he will move to London, and no one will ever suspect him. What will you choose to do?
Write the letters.
Refuse to write.
You pause for a moment, choosing your words very carefully. “I am truly sorry,” you say at last. “I do not know what you intend to do with me, but I will not help you get away with it.”
The Count smiles widely, revealing his long pointed teeth, but his eyes flash with rage. “I am sorry to hear that,” he sneers.
He rises and begins to pace back and forth across the room. The anger on his face makes him even more ghastly. You dare not look at him in this state, so you stare downward at the floor. You try to ignore him as he marches faster, his feet thumping loudly against the floor.
He makes his way behind you, and you’re struck by the idea to move away from him. You begin to do just that, but you are too late.
In an instant, the Count is upon you. “How dare you refuse me!
” he bellows.
His fingers grip your throat, and he lifts you into the air. You struggle madly against him, but the Count’s strength is too great. You kick and thrash and gasp, trying to suck even a single breath of air into your lungs. Your vision begins to fade out, and that’s when the Count releases you.
You collapse to the ground. You have just enough time to scramble onto your hands and knees. Then the Count is upon you again. He lunges at your throat, and you feel his teeth pierce your neck. After that, you feel nothing more. Not ever again.
Try again.
You must stay alive long enough to escape, so you pretend to agree. You ask, “What dates should I put on the letters.”
He calculates a minute and then says, “The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June 29.”
You know now the span of your life. God help you!
There is a chance of escape—or at least of sending word home. A band of gypsies has come to the castle and is camped in the courtyard. In this part of the world, the gypsies join themselves with some great nobleman and call themselves by his name.
You have written a few letters home and will try to get the gypsies to mail them. You speak to them through your window and give them the letters by throwing them through the bars of your window. The man who takes them presses them to his heart and bows. You can do no more.
That evening, the Count comes and sits beside you. He says in his smoothest voice as he opens two letters, “The gypsies have given me these.” A dark look comes into his face, and his eyes blaze wickedly. He calmly holds your letters in the flame of the lamp until they are burned.
Dracula (Can You Survive) Page 3