I woke up in my own bed.
If everything I remembered had really happened, then the Count must have carried me back here himself.
I tried to convince myself that it had all been a nightmare, but I could not be sure.
There were small details that bothered me.
My clothes had been folded and placed beside the bed in a way I never would have done myself.
My watch had not been wound.
I always wound it before going to sleep.
There were several other little things like that.
Still, none of them proved anything. Perhaps I had been so disturbed that I had behaved strangely without realizing it.
I would have to keep watching for evidence.
There was one thing that gave me some comfort.
If the Count had carried me here and undressed me, he must have been in a great hurry.
My pockets were untouched.
That mattered because my diary would certainly have made him suspicious. If he had found it, I am sure he would have taken it or destroyed it.
Strangely enough, this room, which had once filled me with fear, now felt almost like a sanctuary.
Anything was better than those three horrible women.
They were waiting for me.
They wanted my blood.
The Door That Should Not Have Been Closed
18 May
I returned to that room during the day.
I had to know whether what I saw was real.
When I reached the doorway at the top of the stairs, I found it closed.
The door had been slammed so hard against the frame that some of the wood had splintered.
The lock itself was not bolted.
Yet the door was clearly secured from the inside.
That frightened me more than anything else.
It meant that the women had probably been real.
I had not dreamed them.
I would have to act as though everything I had seen was true.
The Dates of My Death
19 May
I am beginning to understand how completely trapped I am.
Last night, the Count asked me to write three letters.
His voice was calm and polite, but there was no real choice in the matter.
“Write one saying that your work here is almost finished and that you will return home within a few days.”
I remained silent.
“The second should say that you are leaving tomorrow morning.”
He paused.
“And the third should say that you have already left the castle and reached Bistritz.”
I wanted to refuse.
But openly fighting the Count would have been madness.
He had complete control over me.
If I refused, he would become suspicious. And I was certain that he already knew I had discovered far too much.
He could not allow me to leave alive if I became a threat to him.
My only hope was to stay alive long enough for an opportunity to escape.
I noticed the same dangerous anger in his eyes that I had seen when he threw the fair-haired woman away.
He explained that mail from the castle was unreliable and that these letters would give my friends peace of mind.
He also promised that the later letters would be held in Bistritz and could be stopped if my stay happened to be extended.
I knew he was lying.
But I pretended to believe him.
“What dates should I put on them?” I asked.
He thought for a moment.
“The first should be dated June 12.”
He looked at me.
“The second, June 19.”
Then he smiled.
“And the third, June 29.”
I understood immediately.
He had just told me how long I was expected to live.
God help me.
A Chance to Send a Warning
28 May
At last, I may have found a way to contact the outside world.
A group of Szgany have arrived at the castle and are camping in the courtyard.
They are gypsies who live throughout Hungary and Transylvania. Many of them have little connection with the law and often work for powerful nobles.
They speak their own forms of the Romany language and seem to live according to their own customs.
I began communicating with them through my window.
When they noticed me, they removed their hats and bowed.
I could not understand their words, but perhaps they understood what I wanted.
I wrote two letters.
One was for Mr. Hawkins.
The other was for Mina.
I wrote Mina’s letter in shorthand and explained my situation as carefully as I could.
I did not tell her everything.
I could not bring myself to describe the horrors I had seen. It would only terrify her.
I hoped that if the letters reached England, someone would realize that something was terribly wrong.
I threw the letters through the bars of my window along with a gold coin.
I made every gesture I could think of to tell the gypsies to mail them.
One of the men picked up the letters.
He pressed them against his heart, bowed to me, and tucked them into his hat.
For the first time in days, I felt a little hope.
I returned to the study and began reading.
Then the Count appeared.
He sat beside me.
In his usual calm voice, he opened two letters.
“The Szgany have given these to me,” he said. “I do not know where they came from, but naturally I must take care of them.”
He looked at the first letter.
“This one is from you. It is addressed to my friend Peter Hawkins.”
Then he opened the second.
His expression changed immediately.
His eyes flashed with anger.
“And this…”
He stared at the strange shorthand symbols.
“This is an insult to friendship and hospitality.”
He turned the letter over.
“It is not even signed. So perhaps it is of no importance.”
He calmly held the letter over the flame of the lamp.
Within seconds, it was burning.
I watched helplessly as my message to Mina disappeared into the fire.
Then the Count turned back to me.
“As for the letter to Hawkins, I will naturally send it. Your letters are sacred to me.”
He smiled.
“I apologize for opening it accidentally. Would you please put it into another envelope?”
He handed me the letter and a clean envelope.
I had no choice.
I put it inside and gave it back to him.
The Count left the room.
I heard the key turning in the lock.
A few minutes later, I tried the door.
It was locked.
A Night Without Dreams
A few hours later, the Count quietly entered the room.
I had fallen asleep on the sofa, and his arrival woke me.
He seemed unusually cheerful.
“So, my friend, you are tired?”
I nodded.
“Then go to bed. You will rest better there.”
He smiled.
“I have much work to do tonight, so I may not have time to talk with you.”
I went back to my room.
Strangely, I slept without dreaming.
Perhaps despair has its own strange kind of peace.
Everything That Could Help Me Is Gone
31 May
This morning I decided to prepare myself for another attempt to escape.
I planned to take some paper and envelopes from my luggage and keep them in my pocket.
Then I discovered something terrible.
Every piece of paper was gone.
My notes were gone.
My travel information was gone.
My railway schedules were gone.
Even my letter of credit had disappeared.
Everything that might help me if I ever escaped the castle had been taken.
I searched through my luggage.
Then I checked the wardrobe.
My traveling clothes were gone too.
So were my overcoat and my blanket.
There was nothing left.
The Count had thought of everything.
The Gypsies Arrive
17 June
This morning, while I was sitting on the edge of my bed trying to think of some way out, I heard something outside.
Whips cracked.
Horses’ hooves struck the rocky road.
Wheels rumbled over the stones.
I rushed to the window.
Two enormous wagons were entering the courtyard.
Each was pulled by eight strong horses.
The drivers were Slovaks wearing wide hats, heavy belts, sheepskin coats, and tall boots. Each carried a long wooden staff.
This might be my chance.
I ran toward the door.
Perhaps the main entrance would be open for them.
But when I reached it, I found another cruel surprise.
The door was locked from the outside.
I ran back to the window.
“Help me!”
I shouted at the men below.
They looked up at me.
One of them pointed toward my window.
Then the leader of the Szgany came out and said something to them.
They laughed.
After that, none of them would look at me.
I shouted again.
I begged them.
I tried every gesture I could think of.
They deliberately turned away.
The wagons were carrying large square wooden boxes.
They seemed empty because the men moved them so easily.
The boxes were unloaded and stacked in one corner of the courtyard.
The Slovaks were paid by the Szgany.
They even spat on the money for luck before returning to their horses.
Soon the wagons disappeared down the mountain road.
Dracula Leaves in My Clothes
24 June, before dawn
The Count left me early last night and locked himself inside his room.
As soon as I thought it was safe, I climbed the winding stairs and watched from the southern window.
Something was happening in the castle.
The Szgany were staying somewhere inside.
I could hear distant sounds from time to time.
The scrape of shovels.
The sound of digging.
Whatever they were doing, I was certain it was part of some terrible plan.
I had been watching for less than half an hour when I saw movement at the Count’s window.
I immediately hid and watched.
The Count climbed out.
But this time there was something different.
He was wearing my clothes.
My traveling clothes.
The same clothes that had disappeared from my room.
And over his shoulder was the terrible bag I had seen before.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The Count intended to leave the castle pretending to be me.
People would see him in my clothes and believe that Jonathan Harker was traveling through the countryside.
He could send letters in my name.
He could appear in villages and towns.
And if he committed some terrible crime, people would believe that I had done it.
I was trapped inside the castle while the Count used my identity outside.
The injustice of it filled me with rage.
I was a prisoner without even the protection normally given to a criminal.
I stayed at the window, waiting for him to return.
After a while, I noticed tiny particles floating through the moonlight.
They looked like specks of dust.
At first, they moved randomly.
Then they began gathering together.
The sight was strangely calming.
I leaned back and watched them dance in the moonlight.
Suddenly, I heard something.
A distant howl.
A dog was crying somewhere deep in the valley.
The sound seemed to grow louder.
The tiny particles began moving faster.
The moonlight seemed to tremble.
The particles gathered into larger and larger shapes.
I felt something inside me trying to wake me from a trance.
I realized with horror that I was becoming hypnotized.
The dust continued to gather.
The shapes became clearer.
Then I suddenly woke completely.
I screamed and ran from the window.
The shapes forming in the moonlight were the three women.
The same three women who had tried to drink my blood.
I fled back to my room.
There was no moonlight there.
The lamp was burning brightly.
For the moment, I felt safe.
The Mother Who Came for Her Child
Several hours later, I heard something from the Count’s room.
It sounded like a sharp cry that was quickly silenced.
Then everything became quiet.
Not ordinary silence.
A terrible silence.
I tried the door.
Locked.
I was trapped again.
I sat down and began to cry.
Then I heard a woman’s scream from the courtyard.
I rushed to the window and looked through the bars.
A woman stood below.
Her hair was wild.
She was clutching her chest and leaning against the gateway.
When she saw me, she rushed toward the castle.
“Monster!”
Her voice shook with rage.
“Give me back my child!”
She fell to her knees and raised her hands.
“Give me my child!”
She screamed the words again and again.
Then she tore at her hair and beat her chest.
Finally, she threw herself against the door.
I heard the Count’s voice from somewhere high above.
His voice was harsh and unnatural.
Almost immediately, wolves began howling from every direction.
Within minutes, a pack of wolves rushed through the castle entrance and into the courtyard.
The woman screamed no more.
The wolves were silent too.
Soon they ran back out one by one, licking their lips.
I knew exactly what had happened to her child.
For her sake, death was probably better.
But what could I do?
How could I escape this nightmare of darkness, fear, and death?
One Last Attempt to Escape
25 June, morning
No one can understand how precious daylight becomes until they have spent enough nights living in terror.
When the morning sun finally reached the top of the great gateway, I felt as though heaven itself had appeared.
My fear seemed to melt away.
I knew I had to act while I still had courage.
One of my letters had already been sent according to the Count’s plan.
The first of those letters that would eventually make the world believe I was alive and traveling home had gone out.
I refused to think about it.
I needed to act.
Every danger I had faced had come at night.
I had never seen the Count during the day.
Perhaps he slept while the rest of the world was awake.
If so, perhaps his room would be empty.
And perhaps I could find the key there.
There was no normal way to reach his room.
But I had seen him crawl down the outside wall.
If he could do it, perhaps I could too.
It was dangerous.
But staying here was even more dangerous.
At worst, I would die.
Death seemed better than what awaited me in this castle.
I prayed for courage.
Goodbye, Mina, if I fail.
Goodbye, my faithful friend and second father.
Goodbye, everyone.
And most of all, goodbye, Mina.
Entering Dracula’s Room
I did it.
By God’s mercy, I returned safely.
I went directly to the southern window while I still had courage.
I climbed onto the narrow stone ledge outside.
The stones were rough, and much of the old mortar had disappeared.
I removed my boots.
Then I began moving along the outside of the castle.
I looked down only once.
The drop was so terrifying that I knew I could not afford to look again.
I kept my eyes on the Count’s window.
I knew roughly where it was.
I moved carefully along the wall.
I was not dizzy.
Perhaps fear and excitement were keeping me focused.
Before I knew it, I was standing on the Count’s windowsill.
I pushed up the window.
Then I climbed inside.
The room was empty.
I had expected that.
There was very little furniture.
Everything was old and covered with dust.
I searched for the key.
It was not in the lock.
I searched everywhere.
Nothing.
But I found something else.
In one corner was a huge pile of gold.
There were coins from many countries and many different centuries—Roman, British, Austrian, Hungarian, Greek, and Turkish.
They were covered with dust, as though they had been buried underground for hundreds of years.
There were also old chains, jewels, and other ornaments.
Everything looked ancient.
Then I noticed a heavy door in the corner.
I opened it.
Beyond it was a narrow stone passage.
A circular staircase descended into darkness.
I went down carefully.
The only light came through tiny openings in the stone walls.
At the bottom, I entered a tunnel.
A terrible smell filled the air.
It smelled like freshly turned earth.
The farther I went, the stronger it became.
At last, I pushed open a heavy door.
Beyond it was an old ruined chapel.
It appeared to have once been used as a burial place.
The roof was broken.
There were stairs leading down into underground vaults.
But the ground had clearly been disturbed recently.
Fresh earth had been dug up and packed into large wooden boxes.
The same kind of boxes the Slovaks had brought into the castle.
I searched for another exit.
There was none.
I searched the entire place.
I even entered two of the vaults, although every part of me wanted to run.
There were only pieces of old coffins and piles of dust.
Then I entered the third vault.
And there I found him.
Dracula’s Secret Resting Place
There were about fifty large boxes in the vault.
Inside one of them, lying on a mound of freshly dug earth, was Count Dracula.
I could not tell whether he was dead or asleep.
His eyes were open and hard.
But they did not look like the eyes of a corpse.
His cheeks still had some color.
His lips were as red as ever.
Yet he did not move.
There was no breathing.
No pulse.
No heartbeat.
I leaned over him and searched for any sign of life.
Nothing.
He could not have been there very long because the smell of fresh earth was still strong.
The box had a lid beside it with several small holes in it.
I thought perhaps the Count had the key on him.
But when I looked at his face, I froze.
Even though he seemed lifeless, there was something hateful in his eyes.
I could not bear to stay.
I fled.
I climbed back up through the passage, returned to the Count’s room, and crawled along the castle wall until I reached my own chamber.
I collapsed onto my bed, gasping for breath.
The Last Letter
29 June
Today is the date of my final letter.
The Count made sure it would appear genuine.
Once again, I saw him leave the castle through his window.
Once again, he was wearing my clothes.
He crawled down the wall like a lizard.
I wished I had a gun.
I wanted to destroy him.
But I doubted that any ordinary weapon could kill such a creature.
I did not wait for his return.
I was terrified that the three women might appear again.
Instead, I went back to the library and read until I fell asleep.
The Count woke me.
He looked at me with a cold expression.
“Tomorrow, my friend, we must part.”
I stared at him.
“You will return to your beautiful England. I have other work to do, and perhaps we will never meet again.”
He paused.
“Your letter home has already been sent.”
My heart sank.
“Tomorrow I will not be here. Everything will be prepared for your journey.”
He continued calmly.
“The Szgany will arrive in the morning. They have work to finish here, and the Slovaks will come as well.”
“After they leave, my carriage will take you to Borgo Pass. From there, you can catch the coach to Bukovina and then continue to Bistritz.”
He smiled.
“Perhaps one day I shall see you again at Castle Dracula.”
I did not believe a word he said.
So I decided to test him.
“Why can’t I leave tonight?”
He smiled.
“Because my coachman and horses are away on an errand.”
“I can walk.”
I stared directly at him.
“I want to leave immediately.”
His smile became even softer.
“And your luggage?”
“I don’t care about it. I can have it sent to me later.”
The Count stood.
His expression became almost absurdly polite.
“You English have a saying that I admire very much: ‘Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.'”
He picked up the lamp.
“Come with me, my dear young friend. I will not keep you here against your will for another hour.”
He began walking toward the entrance.
I followed.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Listen.”
Wolves were howling nearby.
The sound came suddenly, as if the Count had summoned them with a single gesture.
He continued toward the great door.
He removed the heavy bolts.
He unhooked the chains.
Then he began opening it.
To my astonishment, the door was not locked.
I looked around for the key.
There was none.
The door opened wider.
The wolves outside began howling more violently.
Their red mouths opened.
Their teeth snapped.
They jumped against the doorway.
I understood immediately.
The Count had planned everything.
He wanted me to walk outside.
He wanted the wolves to kill me.
And then everyone would believe I had simply disappeared.
I knew I could not fight him and a pack of wolves at the same time.
As the door continued opening, I realized that this was probably the moment he intended me to die.
I had asked to leave.
He would simply give me what I wanted.
I covered my face.
“Close the door!”
My voice broke.
“I’ll wait until morning!”
The Count immediately slammed the door shut.
The massive bolts crashed into place.
We returned to the library in silence.
A few minutes later, I went back to my room.
The last thing I saw was the Count standing in the hall and raising his hand in farewell.
His eyes were shining with triumph.
His smile was so cruel that even the devil himself might have admired it.
Tomorrow Night
As I prepared for bed, I thought I heard someone whispering outside my door.
I quietly moved closer and listened.
I heard the Count’s voice.
“Go back.”
A pause.
“Go back to your own place.”
His voice was almost gentle.
“Your time has not come yet.”
Another pause.
“Be patient.”
Then he whispered:
“Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night will be yours.”
A soft, horrible laugh followed.
I could not control my anger.
I threw open the door.
The three women were standing outside.
They were licking their lips.
The moment they saw me, they laughed together.
Then they ran away.
I closed the door and fell to my knees.
Was the end really that close?
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I prayed for God’s help—for myself and for everyone I loved.
The Castle Becomes My Prison
30 June, morning
These may be the last words I ever write.
I slept until just before dawn.
When I woke, I immediately knelt down.
If death was coming for me, I wanted to meet it prepared.
At last, I felt the air change.
Morning was coming.
Then I heard the rooster crow.
For a moment, I felt safe.
I opened my door and ran into the hall.
I had seen the main door unlocked.
Escape was finally possible.
My hands trembled with excitement as I removed the chains and pulled back the heavy bolts.
I pushed.
Nothing happened.
I pushed harder.
The door would not move.
Despair swept over me.
I pulled with all my strength.
The door shook inside its frame.
Then I saw the truth.
The bolt had been locked again after I left the Count.
I was still trapped.
There was only one thing left to try.
The key.
I had to find it.
Even if the Count killed me, I would rather die trying to escape than wait helplessly for the night.
I rushed to the eastern window.
Then I climbed down the castle wall once more.
I entered the Count’s room.
It was empty.
I searched everywhere for the key.
Nothing.
The pile of gold was still there.
I hurried through the door in the corner and descended the winding stairs.
I followed the dark passage back to the old chapel.
By now, I knew exactly where the Count was hiding.
The great box was still against the wall.
This time, the lid was resting loosely on top.
The nails were already positioned around it, ready to be hammered shut.
I knew I had to search his body.
I lifted the lid.
Then I saw something that filled me with absolute horror.
The Count was still lying inside.
But he had changed.
He looked younger than before.
His white hair and mustache had become dark gray.
His cheeks were fuller.
His pale skin had a deep red color beneath it.
His lips were even redder than before.
Fresh blood covered them.
It ran from the corners of his mouth down his chin and neck.
His eyes looked swollen and unnaturally bright.
He looked like some enormous creature that had just gorged itself on blood.
I could barely stand the sight of him.
But I had to search him.
If I could not find the key, I would never escape.
I touched his body.
I searched every pocket.
Nothing.
No key.
Then I stopped.
I looked at his face.
There was a horrible smile on it.
It seemed almost as though he was mocking me.
Suddenly, I understood what I had done.
I had been helping this monster move to London.
If he reached that great city, he could feed on thousands of people.
He could create more creatures like himself.
The thought drove me into a fury.
I had to kill him.
There was no weapon nearby.
Then I saw a shovel.
The workers had been using it to fill the boxes with earth.
I grabbed it.
I raised it above my head.
Then I brought it down toward the Count’s face.
At the last moment, his head moved.
His eyes opened fully.
They stared directly into mine.
The horror in them froze me.
My hands lost control.
The shovel slipped and struck his forehead instead, leaving a deep cut.
It fell across the box.
When I pulled it away, the blade caught the edge of the lid.
The lid fell back into place.
The last thing I saw was his blood-covered face.
He was still smiling.
It was a smile filled with hatred.
The Castle Closes Around Me
I stood there trying to think.
My mind felt like it was burning.
Then I heard something in the distance.
Singing.
The voices of the gypsies were getting closer.
Then came the rumble of heavy wheels.
Whips cracked.
The Szgany and the Slovaks had returned.
I took one last look at the box containing the monster.
Then I ran back to the Count’s room.
I planned to rush out the moment the main door opened.
I listened carefully.
Downstairs, I heard a key turning in a heavy lock.
Then the great door opened.
There had to be another entrance somewhere.
Or someone had another key.
I heard many footsteps moving through the castle.
Then suddenly a powerful gust of wind swept through the passage.
The door leading to the winding stairs slammed shut.
Dust fell from the stone above it.
I rushed over and tried to open it.
It would not move.
I was trapped again.
The walls of this castle seemed to be closing around me.
Below, I could hear many people walking.
Then came the heavy sound of boxes being carried.
They were being placed on the ground.
Hammering began.
The boxes were being nailed shut.
I heard more footsteps moving through the hall.
Then silence.
The door closed.
The chains rattled.
A key turned in the lock.
Then I heard the key being removed.
Another door opened.
Then another lock clicked shut.
Everything was secured.
Outside, I heard the heavy wagons rolling away.
Whips cracked.
The Szgany sang as they disappeared down the rocky road.
And then I was alone.
Alone in the castle.
Alone with the three terrible women.
No.
They were nothing like Mina.
They were monsters.
They were creatures from hell.
I would not stay here waiting for them.
I would climb the castle wall again.
This time, I would go farther than before.
I would take some of the Count’s gold with me.
Perhaps it might be useful if I escaped.
Perhaps I could find a way down.
Perhaps I could reach civilization.
Then I would go home.
I would find the nearest and fastest train.
I would leave this cursed castle.
I would leave this cursed land.
I would escape from the place where the devil and his servants still walked among men.
If I could not survive the climb, then perhaps death would be kinder.
At least God’s mercy was better than the mercy of these creatures.
The cliff below was steep and deep.
If I fell, I might at least die as a man.
Goodbye, everyone.
Goodbye, Mina.