Dracula's Lament

Presenting my own standalone short story.

Inspiration © Bram Stoker.

Transylvania

23 December 1892, 2.37 a.m.

Cultists make final preparations to resurrect their personification of God.

"Ready brother?" Samuel nonchalantly asked Jacob.

"For him to become flesh again, a sacrifice must be made."

With knife in hand, Samuel sliced open his other thumb and drew a broken helix on Jacob's forehead to authenticate ritual.

Even after throat was slashed with sharpened crucifix, Jacob didn't make a sound and quietly bled out.

Samuel used a rusty goblet to collect blood and poured liquid inside coffin.

Following a blinding flash of light, a mass of bats gathered and Dracula was reborn.

"Master!"

Samuel was overwhelmed, erect in more ways than one.

"I am your loyal servant, what will you have me do?"

Glancing at crotch, crimson eyes burned with disgust.

"Kneel."

Lapdog obeyed and gawped in admiration.

Dracula grabbed Samuel by the throat and began to squeeze.

"Whhh---hy? I brought you back." 

"The road to hell is usually paved with obstacles. You are fortunate that none stand in your way."

His neck was snapped like a dry twig.

Their bodies were carried above ground and thrown into a shallow pit.

As flies swarmed fresh meat, Dracula retired to his coffin.

24 December, 10.19 p.m.

Dracula headed west for food, and it wasn't long before he was greeted by peasants armed with a false sense of hope.

Recklessness, adrenaline and inexperience played right into Dracula's hands, allowing him to cleave through enemies with relative ease.

Mina Harker's approach was more measured.  She feinted, and drove rapier into his foot.

Immobilisation was short-lived, and Dracula became a hurricane of hate, bathing frozen mud with her blood.

The epitome of evil paused for several moments, basking in the carnage.

11.12 p.m.

Descending the winding stairs of cavern where coffin laid, pale face grew a strange grimace, like a flower struggling to bloom.

Coffin was not as he remembered.  Lid was ajar and toxic smell invigorated curiosity.

An ominous silence engulfed filthy air.

Preparing to enter, he carefully moved the lid.

A figure hiding inside suddenly stood.  Jonathan Harker was fervent with rage.

Dracula lunged with outstretched arms, but missed.  Harker then plunged his sword into monster's chest.

"FUCK YOU AND DIE! Harker exclaimed. "THIS IS FOR MINA."

Pain turned to laughter, which nemesis heard loudly.

"Even in death, your arrogance mocks me," scowled Harker.

"Mr. Harker, I am no nearer to death than I was before."

To his despair, strike failed to pierce black heart.

Dracula forcibly removed jagged blade, tossing it on the floor 

Harker was no match for Dracula's strength, and puny frame was tossed aside like a rag doll.

CRACK!

Nose was broken, together with spirit.

"Just... kill me" Harker muttered.  "Get it over with."

Dracula was unmoved, displaying salacious excitement.

"Death is a far too merciful fate and you deserve the ultimate gift - immortality."

Harker's eyes began to close, feeling the warmth of decaying breath around his jugular vein.

Suddenly, Harker sprung into action, quickly reaching inside garment and forcing a small bottle of holy water inside Dracula's mouth.

Brittle container was designed to break with minimal force.  In this case, the impact of Dracula's molars was enough.

Dracula instinctively held his throat and coughed up blood and flame.

Harker seized the opportunity to retrieve sword.

Dracula desperately tried to vomit the remainder of foreign substance.

In the ensuing chaos, Harker forced the point through back of head and eyeball.

Crunching sound reverberated around the arena and Dracula slumped to his knees.

Attempting to buy time, he transformed into a wolf, dashing towards salvation.

Harker removed the blade and deprived evil of a limb.

Reverting back to human form, he was grounded.

"Now you know how it feels to be helpless," said Harker. "As I watched you murder my beloved wife, I imagined what it'd be like to kill you. This is beyond my wildest fantasy."

Turning battered head, Dracula wept blood and offered trembling hand.

Deception was rejected immediately and Harker spat acrimoniously.

25 December, 12.04 a.m.

Thunder rumbled and a bolt of lightning struck roof, showering area with huge chunks of rubble.  

Dracula was out of range, but Harker was forced to take evasive action.

Scrambling over debris, clumsy enthusiasm caused him to trip and twist ankle.

"GOD HELP ME!"

"Pathetic! He couldn't even save Mina, so why bother with you?"

The truth can literally hurt.

Dracula had fully regenerated and Harker begrudgingly accepted his fate.

1.19 a.m.

Fangs punctured neck and Harker winced.

Using his hands and Dracula's body to force release, the tables were temporarily turned, as Harker tore at enemy's cheek with ferocious energy.

If he was going to die, he would fight until the bitter end.

Squatting on haunches, he produced a bunch of matches from opposite pocket and used concrete floor to provide necessary spark.

Ahead of encounter, Harker had doused coffin with paraffin.

Dropping them inside, coffin was ablaze.

By now, Dracula had already gouged out Harker's eyes.

A flurry of sickening blows later, he was dead.

1.54 a.m.

Harker was destroyed, but sleeping vessel was nothing but charred timber.

Prey was extinct and starvation seemed inevitable.

He embraced the stench of cultists and decided wrapping what remained around him would make a crude substitute for a coffin.

Time was a candle, and wick burned backwards.

26 December, 7.19 a.m.

Eyes flickered open to a new sensation.

"NOOOOOWWW!!!!!!"

A volley of spears impaled soft body.

"That's enough!"

"Really? This is fucking Dracula."

"We've got him pinned down. Bastard ain't going nowhere."

"Okay, but if you're wrong..."

"Noted. Good morning Count Dracula."

Van Helsing had assembled the village remainder that neglected to join makeshift mob.

Strategy appeared to have paid dividends and leader gave the nod for act two.

Buckets of boiling oil were poured, causing Dracula to sizzle and shrivel, comparable to salt and slug.

7.42 a.m.

"Professor, how much longer?"

"Soon it'll be over."

Some performed a live burial, while others ensured spears remained in place.

Dracula couldn't struggle free, howling in frustration like a wounded animal.

"Is that enough?" asked Van Helsing.

"Yes."

He signaled for other party to leave respective stations, satisfied that Dracula was dead.

8.02 a.m.

"Look sir, the sun."

"Yes. But we must make haste."

A vicious earthquake forced them to lose footing.

The pit of death erupted and phoenix roared, removing a spear and launching it with controlled anger, skewering two in the process.

Dracula swiveled and decapitated another.

As he grabbed Van Helsing, Dracula bared teeth with atrocious vanity.

With back to him, spear was plunged into the professor's chest.

A garbled scream followed and blood spurted.

However, he was unable to complete the job, as daylight transformed nightmare into a spectacular ball of fire.

Van Helsing retreated and watched beautiful demise, smiling with ornate satisfaction.

Cape offered no protection and body crumbled into a pile of ash.

Burnt skull fell to the floor with a defiant thud.  He considered taking it as a trophy, but instead, slowly trudged away in agony.

Dusk, later that day

The bodies of Dracula's final victims were infested with maggots.

Drawn to appalling smell, rats varying in size arrived on the scene.

One scurried over to inspect Dracula's skull.

Despite the emptiness of eye sockets, they seemed to stare back.

Lower jaw creaked open, wide enough for rodent to partially enter.

It slammed shut, instantly killing creature.

Fangs slowly absorbed blood and a portion of soil rose.

End