Count Dracula's diary
By Viviana Benfenati.
One of the things I learned during the time in quarantine is how to properly clean the house. And by house, I mean my room. Among fresh breezes of Lysol and bleach, a colorful duster that crushes every spider’s dream of becoming a tenant, and a mop that drains itself, I decided to go the extra mile and clean my drawers.
Rummaging through the unfathomable world of my lifelong belongings, I came across a cherry colored suitcase, with a content that promised the sweet, eidetic revival of long lost memories, in the shape of dusty papers.
Amongst these jewels of the past, I happened to find something I positively believed to be lost for good: my IB homework. I need to clarify that, during my last two years in high school, I went through the IB (International Baccalaureate) Programme. As thankful as I am to my parents for making the effort of keeping me in that school, I must also say that those times are first or second runner ups on the pageant to the busiest and most stressful times I’ve lived through.
Nonetheless, those were also the years when we were assigned the most interesting tasks. One of the cardinal rules of the game in the IB world was that homework had to represent a real intellectual challenge for every brave student who attempted to obtain the diploma. We wrote plays, recorded ourselves analyzing pieces of literature, carried out thorough psychology investigations or recreated the style of famous authors, adding more chapters to our favorite books. The latter happens to be the case of my attempt to imitate Bram Stoker’s style of writing in his emblematic novel, Dracula.
However, the content and style of this book lie nowhere near the definition of conventional. For those of you who haven’t read it, Bram Stoker’s Dracula is composed not of regular narrative but of diary entries, written by all characters, except the lead. That’s right, the Count doesn’t have a diary entry in his own story.
In the novel, Dracula at times leaves his castle at night, crawling down the walls. However, Bram Stoker does not specify where he went or what he did during these nightly escapades.
If Dracula had kept a diary, what would he write in it? What secrets would he entrust to those forbidden pages, concealed to any other set of eyes but his own? And how would his writing style be? These are the questions that my fifteen-year-old self ventured to resolve.
Inspired by my IB English Literature homework; the basis for creating my own version of the Count.
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(Musicalize it! Listen to the songs that inspired me as I wrote this story. I recommend reading this one in the company of Frank Sinatra).
5 October. – I felt like dancing tonight. I couldn’t understand the origin of this peculiar sensation, but, as the last rays of the sun finally waved their goodbyes to the sky and the city was gracefully swathed by the fascinating world of enveloping shadows and murky shapes, a savage wave of energy invaded my mind and body. What began as a subtle rush of joy, a delicate stream of light, swiftly turned into a massive stroke of inner liveliness that helplessly possessed my whole being.
It was amidst this trance that a newfound power took me travelling to the world of music. Without being aware of my own movements, I found myself dancing in my room, with my eyes closed and an indelible smile drawn across my face. This night promised to be like no other.
I got dressed somewhere between jazz and swing. A symphonic melody, whose origin remained forever unknown to me, was playing at full volume in my room. Or maybe it was just an antic of my mind. It didn’t matter.
Through movements both graceful and lithe, I got once again into my special attire; sheer elegance transformed into a tuxedo, which I dearly kept only for the eyes of the night. Boy, was I not born to dress sharply, I kept repeating to myself, as I polished my shoes to the mellow sound of the saxophone.
Only the finishing touch was missing and I would be ready to go. My garment would never be complete without my stylish cape. Black, as the color where my wandering self comes to life, the color that receives me every night with welcoming arms, and opens the door to a world where I am the only true, undefeatable master. And red, the life that runs through my insides, the color of passion, of love; the symbolic representation of the blissful elixir that commands my whole existence.
The gentle breeze of the night naughtily disheveled my hair as my window doors flew wide open.
Walking down the isolated streets I noticed, to my immense delight, that this apparence of my imagination, which had invaded me a moment ago in the shape of music, was still very much alive. So alive I could almost swear it was coming from one of the windows on the street…
My feet began dancing on the stone pavement. I turned around, and around again, almost tasting the satisfying sound of my leather shoes against the cobbled floor.
Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks.
The music, my music, was real indeed. It was coming from an open window, a few feet away from me.
Strangers in the night
Exchanging glances
Wondering in the night
What were the chances
…
My senses came to life all at once, just as if I had received an electric shock. What a delightful, vibrant melody! Taken straight out of my mind. This is what having a heart must feel like, I thought, as every step I took towards that window resembled my long, lost memory of what it once felt to have a beating heart.
I gracefully leaned over and peaked through the corner of the window. The most beautiful woman, with skin as white as the ocean’s most cherished pearl and lips as red as the sassiest rose, sat in front of the mirror, combing her long hair, gold, like the brightest ray of sun.
I stood in complete reassurance of my early premonition; this night would certainly be like no other.
A semi translucent white dress, which I assumed was her night gown, played with the shadows under the light of countless aromatic candles that surrounded the room, faithful to the solemn task of transporting their owner -and her unsolicited visitor- to a land of fantasy, far away from the realms of real life.
A second melody smoothly entered my ears, making my whole body shiver. She had begun singing. Quite bashfully at first, making it seem like she was aware about having an audience, but suddenly, her voice gained strength. It was not long before this fanciful melody extended an invitation to her body as well. She stood up from her stool and began dancing, just as I did a couple hours ago, with her eyes closed and a smile that promised the most wondrous memory I ever had, one delightfully doomed to remain immortalized in my mind forever.
As she continued to sing, I kept leaning on the windowsill, slowly entering her room, at the same pace of the music.
Something in your eyes
Was so inviting
Something in your smile
Was so exciting
…
Something in my heart told me I must have you
That last line was sung by two voices at unison. The bond between two souls united by music can only grow stronger when their voices elevate in one single melody, lost forever in the exquisiteness of a symphony.
She turned around, startled, but nonetheless, she continued singing. The smile on her face broadened as both our voices grew louder. It was a concert for eternity.
By the time we were caroling through the second verse, I was already sitting on the windowsill. My whole body was now facing her, while my eyes rejoiced with happiness, as they were granted with the immense privilege of her existence.
I stood up and let her sing a little by herself, gracing her with a more than merited chance to flourish such an immense talent, as my movements were once again triggered by the tempo of the song, now the master and commander of every one of my steps.
I reached her and gallantly extended my hand, which she took with indescribable passion. The stars in the night never shone brighter than they did at that moment, when we were enveloped in the frenzy of dance. Two marionettes, deprived of their own wills, dancing at the mercy of a melody that had possessed not our bodies but our souls. We laughed, while obliging to the whims of the cello.
Piqué passé, piqué passé, pirouette. Reverse turn. Double reverse spin. My remarkable skills to perform every dance move were, in all humbleness, no surprise to me. What I found astounding, however, was how well she followed them.
Amidst the most graceful whisk and a spin so enchanting that it could have sweetened the bitterest licorice, I was convinced of what a mortal sin it would be to deprive the world from the wonders of our dancing.
It was at some point during this spellbinding ecstasy that a third party appeared between us. Stealing all prominence and stardom, a new companion joined our act, in the shape of the most delicate vein on my lady’s neck. A far more skilled dancer than both of us were, the beauty of this symbol of life blossomed before my eyes, coquettishly mocking me, and granting an invitation to betray her owner’s adverse desire.
Little did we know
Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing dance away
…
Little did my companion know, however, that tonight, the music was not played by her gramophone, but by destiny. With a class-act triple turn –because she deserved it- I threw her on my arms and held her head gently to the side. The volume of the music grew louder than the sound of the world, as I concluded this magnificent dance with a newfound jazz step, never performed by any duet before.
The blankets on her bed, white as the purest of moonstones, held her immaculate body, now submerged in a dream that would never end. She had been finally blessed with the joy of dancing for all eternity. Maybe a part of me even envied her, I thought, as I left the room.
-An extraordinary night - I couldn’t help to state out loud, as soon as I was back on the street. What a delightful night indeed! I screamed at the top of my lungs.
At the same time, my feet resumed their gleeful dance, resonating their soles against the cobbled floor. Rest assured, I am the world’s greatest tap dancer.
My mouth kept singing as my mind glowed with the thought of the woman that had changed my life, forever.
Ever since that night
We've been together
It turned out so right
For strangers in the night
…
Song credits: Strangers in the Night, by Frank Sinatra.
12 November. – After leaving Jonathan in the library, I retired to my chambers, helplessly surrendering before an irrefutable desire to find myself among solitude and silence once more. By all the spirits in the world, I hereby vow never to have guests over again – I said to myself, as my steps took me up the huge staircase.
My special attire was impatiently waiting for me on the hanger. Once prepared, I approached the window and opened it. The fresh air of the night had cleared the clouds and also my mind, for tonight, I knew exactly what I was looking for. I smiled at the glowing moon, as she stood before me, shining radiantly, like the most awaited desire that has finally come true, amidst a scenery of inescapable darkness. I salute you again, my nightly companion and most faithful ally.
It was a small, white house, at the city’s outskirts. Once there, I deliciously leaned on the wall by the window, tasting the sweetness of the moment, while hearing the dovelike melody composed by her prayers.
-Please, bless me with the joy of helping people in need. I have always felt that my existence is meant to keep alive in others the eagerness to continue living. I am devoted to be that inexhaustible source of courage that so many people need to go on.
Such a sweet angel, indeed – was the phrase that my mind kept repeating, while my heart grew proud with every one of her words. I entered her room, smooth, like the most gentle summer breeze, and silent, like a guardian angel venturing into his protegee’s deepest dreams.
I reached her side, leaned towards her ear and whispered “my dear girl, your soul is the purest that ever existed, and the world rejoices from the kindness in your heart. Tonight, your wish has been granted”.
After hearing my words, she opened her eyes and slowly turned her head towards me, her hands still closed together in a prayer that was meant to be eternal. She stood up, staring at me in sheer confusion, as terror began to possess every inch of her brittle body.
-Who are you?
I approached her again, until I was able to cover her mouth with my hand, which demanded me no effort, as she stood there, petrified. My palm then ventured on the most exquisite journey along her cheek, up through the enchanting forest of her brunette curls, and ended up relishing on the softness of her neck.
-Oh no, madame, you should not be afraid of me - I said, smiling warmly – On this delightful night, I stand before you with a confession that overflows me with bliss. I hereby am deeply moved by such words pronounced by your lips but spoken by your heart. As your guardian, I have taken a decision.
-My guardian? – the delicate corners of her mouth gave room for relaxation, while her eyes exchanged fear for a gleam of excitement.
-Come with me – I said, extending her my hand.
We approached the window, enough until the moon illuminated the skin on her ivory face. Gently, I placed my hands on each of her shoulders and leaned my head to the side, so that I could fully appreciate her beauty.
In that moment, the world stopped spinning, the wind ceased blowing, and the sound of the sea was nowhere to be heard, for every wave had gone dormant. Nothing else existed, but the warmth of her shoulders under my hands and her beauty, gleaming under the moonlight like a star fallen down to earth.
-The beauty of your soul has moved me. Your devotion to the wellness of others has driven me to appraise my own existence.
-Is that so, my guardian? Is it true that everyone has a purpose?
-There is nothing but truth in your words. I, too, have a purpose in the world. And you know what? It is very much like yours.
She turned her head towards me. Her eyes, now open like plates, stared back at me with a joy so immeasurable it could have lit the whole street at the darkest of hours.
-Are you also dedicated to the task of helping ease the pain in others? Do you make it easier for them to carry their burdens?
-Exactly, my dear. With me, every suffering, no matter how big, comes to an end. I am the door to redemption, the road to atonement, the only true gateway to eternal alleviation. After I am gone, there are no more monsters haunting at night, and those who open their doors for me are left with the sweet redemption of eternal oblivion.
-My god, then you must be a saint!
-Reality is exactly as we perceive it, my dear - I said, while gently leaning my head on hers, tilting it to one side. Then, with a sweetness that could melt the heart of the most ruthless warrior, I whispered right into her ear.
…However, tonight, you are my saint.
She kept staring at the moon, her eyes wide open, shining as the brightest star in the most magnificent galaxy. My eyes, in turn, gleamed just as much, although their attention was focused on a different pearlized surface. The highlight of my every night, my true goddess, that beautiful string of life in the shape of a warm vein, delighted me again with the gift of her apparition on the neck of my latest nocturnal muse.
Little did she know that her prayers had been heard. She just remained standing there, amidst my arms, righteously delighted with the joy one must feel when fulfilling their purpose in life.
As I departed her room through the window, back into the street, I thought about how blessed I had been with such a grandiose talent for making up rubbish. She even ended up addressing me as a saint, tell me if that does not require of a rightful, deserving master of seduction and cajolery! A true artist, indeed.
The deadly silence that had taken possession of the street that night was left with no choice but to be abruptly interrupted behind the snapping of my fingers. The subtle but vigorous sound of victory, the hymn of the day, the celebration of yet another one of my countless successful nightly encounters. The undeniable master of the night strikes again…
My god, when did I became so cheesy - I said out loud, without a care in the world about whoever got to hear me.
19 December. – I lost track of time today. Maybe it was the moon, who did not shine for me this evening. My favorite muse of all was faced tonight with the only option of remaining hidden behind a dense jungle of mischievous clouds, that mercilessly stole away my so awaited scenery, the main source of inspiration for my nightly escapades.
Or maybe it was something else. I could not put my finger on it but tonight something was off. Anyway, I decided to shake away such a distressful idea, that was certainly ruining my preparation, and get ready for another adventure. A gentleman must not leave the ladies in town waiting.
The night breeze was fresher than ever. I stood by the fully opened window, with my arms extended and my eyes closed. As the wind kissed my face and disheveled my hair, I started to feel like a champion again. The master of the night is back - I said to myself, smiling.
As I walked down the streets, however, an unknown sensation invaded me. It felt like thirst, but not like the usual kind of thirst that was so familiar to me. This was a different need, that started off as a persistent whim and swiftly transformed into an uncontrollable impulse that demanded my attention like a castaway to a passing plane. I needed to see the sea.
I turned around, walking away from the residential area. I did not understand what I was doing, but I had no choice. Tonight, I was a slave of my shiny black leather shoes.
The Black Sea received me like an old friend, with a scenery that made me feel even more at home than my own castle. Not a single cloud was to be found; the moon was shining with all her splendor, and the ocean of constellations that embellished the sky left me assured that they had all travelled from every corner of the world to meet me here tonight.
The water, whose profound blackness got lost in the horizon, seemed to extend an invitation to cross it by foot. Calm, as if each drop was lost in meditation; vast, as the possibilities behind a joyful encounter. And mysterious, as the deepest secrets of my soul.
I walked along the shore for a while, following the pace of the tiny waves that were not strong enough to reach my feet.
And then I looked ahead.
As convinced as I was of finding myself alone in this marvelous scenario, it was in destiny’s plans to prove me wrong. A few feet away from me, a black silhouette was sitting on a bench. It took me only a few steps to confirm that, indeed, there was a call for me to be here tonight.
It was a young woman, her golden locks fell gracefully down her cheek, pale, like porcelain. Her eyesight was deeply lost in the horizon.
Proud of following my instincts, I approached her triumphantly, with soft but determined steps. I sat by her side, tenderly, imitating her apparent mindlessness, and making an acute effort to conceal my joy.
-Hello madame. I cannot help but wonder what is a young lady like yourself doing here all alone at this time in the evening. Is there anything I can help you with?
-Wow, you probably are the most chivalrous gentleman in this town – she answered, with a coquettish giggle.
I responded with the same reaction.
-And you certainly are the bravest girl in the world. Anything could happen to a girl walking down the beach alone at this time of the night. You are lucky to have run into me.
-And what makes me so lucky, may I ask? – She said, turning around and fully facing me.
This was a witty one. Instead of being intimidated by my flirtatious-gallant persona, she was game with it.
-Well, it would not be appropriate of me to say, wouldn’t it? That is something that you will have to find out on your own.
Her response came out in the form of a strenuous laughter, which, after a few seconds, she abruptly interrupted. Her eyes suddenly went back to getting lost in the quiet waves, as we were enveloped once again by utter silence.
However, uneasiness filled my insides, as I realized this was not the kind of silence I found familiar. The excitement I encountered in the quietness of the streets at night, the ecstasy of mischievously infiltrating into my muse’s quiet rooms, who -I liked to pretend- extended a silent invitation to me every night with their open windows, and the magnificence of perpetuating such quietness forever as I departed from them. Those are the kinds of silences where I found myself.
But not this one. There was something in that silence that made this night different from every other. Something that came from her.
-And why are you here? – She said, pulling me back to the real world.
-Well, I love the sea, especially at night – I answered, after a long pause, in an intellectual tone – Don’t you?
-Of course, the sea is the place to replenish one’s mind, and start over. The place where you leave everything behind and reconnect with your heart and soul. It is my best companion; when I need to take a pause, when I need to find myself again, or when I’m just waiting for something, don’t you agree?
-Such an astonishing description. As poetic as it is true. You see, I feel the exact same way; you just described every feeling in my mind and in my heart – I said, in a cunning tone that came out as flirtatious, as I slowly turned towards her, raising my arm until my hand touched her shoulder.
-Then you must be a romantic yourself – She said, giggling.
-Oh, you have no idea. I sometimes get embarrassed at how much tribute I pay to love in everything I do. I am a lover of love. There is a space in every heart for our most concealed desires, and I believe it is our duty to set them free, to let the world hear them, at the top of our lungs. Otherwise, we would just be living in an eternal state of betrayal to ourselves. And that is the worst kind of betrayal.
-Such beautiful words you speak, mister. The first thing I would love to hear from you would be your name.
I had her. My arm was already around her neck, and my eyes were shining far brighter than the most fervent fire in the middle of the darkest forest, as my whole attention was placed on that magnificent vein.
-But you said you came here to wait, didn’t you? – I said, whispering in her ear.
-Yes, indeed.
My lips were no more than two inches away from her neck, as my mouth was almost fully open. I kept getting closer to her, slowly, but steadily.
-I am waiting for an answer. It is something I’ve wanted to know for a long time, and I will finally find the truth about it tomorrow.
I stopped in my tracks. What was she doing? Was she confiding me something? Why was she distracting me with her stories? With none of my other muses have I ever exchanged anything but banal words, let alone have any of them ever opened up to me. I was beyond perplexed.
-I’m sorry, I don’t even know you and I am already boring you with my personal issues. And… this was so romantic, I’m sorry I blew it.
I stood there, motionless, with my arm around her neck and my mouth half open, experiencing for the first time what feeling ridiculous was like. But she went on.
-I don’t know why I’m telling all of this to you. But well, I guess I have just been a little lonely. Ok, very lonely, actually. I really have no one to talk to.
To hell with everything, I am so close already -my mind hurried me, as I was about to consummate the deal.
-I am waiting to know if my treatment really worked. This is the last chance I’ll ever get. If I am not cured by now, it’s over. My body really can’t take any more of it. I have two children; they have both been so optimistic and supportive about the results… But I never wanted them to get their hopes up…
There was less than an inch between my teeth and her bulging vein. Nonetheless, my body was not responding anymore. As if commanded by an external force, I could not move forward.
Go on, stupid, you are missing your chance! My mind assailed me. This is the only opportunity you are going to have tonight, and you are blowing it away over a situation that is not your problem whatsoever! Such thoughts burned in my brain like branding iron.
Are you really going to let all this nonsensical babble affect you? Why would this be of any relevance to you?
…Since when do you care about people?
I knew I was right. All of this had nothing to do with me; tomorrow I would have forgotten all about it, just as it happened every night.
…You have her! You are already there!!!
…Do it! Do it!!! …BITE HER!!!
And yet, I couldn’t move.
Left at the mercy of this unknown force, I sat up straight and stared at her. She stared back. Tears were pouring down her face, I hadn’t noticed. I will never know for how long we remained staring at each other.
-Thank you for making me forget, even for a little while. You reminded me what it was like to feel desired. I will never forget this night. Pray for me, I really hope we meet again.
And just like that, she stood up and left.
As I remained sitting on the bench, I discovered yet another kind of silence. It seemed like the whole world had come to a halt, while my mind was travelling at the speed of sound way back into another era in the past. For a moment that lasted less than it takes a shooting star to pass by, I reminisced what it was like to be human. What it meant to see a day go by. I remembered the value of time, and how it felt to actually care about wasting it. How I cherished life as the most precious and unique of all gems, the most valuable, and also the most fragile.
And then the moment passed. I suddenly realized the night sky was not as dark as it used to be. I needed to head back to my castle before dawn caught me.
What a bizarre night, indeed - I said, shaking my head.
So many silly thoughts - my mind spoke again, as I caught myself involuntarily turning around in the direction where she left.
…What am I doing? Get back to the castle!
Of course - I said out loud, smiling. As I resumed my pace, I felt my so familiar confidence blooming inside of me again. There was nothing to worry about; tomorrow I would go back to being the master of the night.
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