by Dr Ruwan M Jayatunge  

The Final Pages of Jonathan Harker’s Diary 

(This is the continuation of Bram Stoker’s classic horror novel Dracula)

Following the dramatic conclusion of Bram Stoker’s iconic horror classic, the story unfolds with Jonathan Harker and his wife Mina, accompanied by their young son Quincy, embarking on a journey to Transylvania. Their purpose is to confront the lingering shadows of their past, specifically the haunting memories associated with Count Dracula, whom they believe they have vanquished. In a bid to find closure and to dispel any doubts regarding the vampire’s demise, they resolve to visit Dracula’s castle, a place that symbolizes both terror and the unknown. Joining them on this expedition is Dr. John Seward, a steadfast ally who has shared in their harrowing experiences. Together, this determined group navigates the perilous landscape of the Boga Pass before making their way up the daunting mountain that houses Dracula’s castle. Entering the fortress with trepidation and doubt, they are nonetheless persuaded that the malevolent creature is no longer a threat. Harker and Mina aim to dispel any lingering fears and reassure their companions that Dracula has been defeated. Although they successfully reach the vampire’s lair, the terrors they encounter continue to haunt their lives……

……..An elderly man was admitted to St. Teresa’s Hospital in London in a semi-conscious and largely disoriented state. The individual accompanying him had scant information, only revealing that the patient was a widower and that his sole son was now living in Scotland. Alongside the patient, a bag was provided to the hospital staff, containing a diary, a Bible, several works by Rousseau, and a map of Eastern Europe. Regrettably, the hospital staff faced challenges in obtaining additional details about the patient’s medical history and background.

The individual who accompanied the patient to the hospital was a crossing sweeper, known for clearing snow from the streets near the old man’s residence, and looked like a typical alcoholic. His appearance was dishevelled, and he exhibited signs that led others to perceive him as mentally impaired. When questioned by the hospital staff regarding the patient, he was unable to provide substantial information. He merely stated that he was familiar with the old man and occasionally assisted him with household tasks. This morning, upon visiting, he found the old man unconscious on the floor, prompting him to bring him to the hospital for help. The hospital staff expressed their gratitude to him for bringing the patient in, and he received their thanks with a sense of honor, akin to being knighted by the King.

Upon his admission, the elderly man was placed under the care of a young doctor who, despite lacking experience, was enthusiastic about his role. The doctor suspected that the patient was experiencing a nervous breakdown; however, the man remained largely unresponsive for two days, intermittently murmuring the name “Mina.” During this period, he received only liquid nourishment, and when a small piece of cotton soaked in glucose was offered to him, he instinctively sucked on it, reminiscent of a cat drinking water.

The absence of the patient’s medical history prompted the doctor to examine the patient’s diary. This aged diary, characterized by its frayed pages, contained disorganized entries. The doctor faced challenges in piecing together the old man’s life story due to several missing pages. Initially, he encountered lengthy and detailed entries, which provided some insight. From these main details, the doctor discerned that the patient had been a practicing lawyer who abruptly halted his professional career. Additionally, it became evident that the patient possessed considerable wealth, owning a mansion situated in the West End, specifically in the Marylebone neighbourhood.

Seated in a wooden chair beside the patient’s bed, the young doctor utilized the dim light from the lamp on the table to peruse the diary. His focus was immediately captured by a long entry found among the fragmented pages.

17 November

For years, I endeavoured to persuade Mina to journey to Transylvania and visit Dracula’s castle as a means to confront the lingering fears stemming from our traumatic past. Our previous encounters with Count Dracula had left us haunted by nightmares and intrusive memories, despite having witnessed his demise when we drove a stake through his heart and severed his neck, reducing his body to dust. The memories, however, remained indelible. In my quest for guidance, I sought the counsel of the now-retired Professor Abraham Van Helsing, who resides in Amsterdam. Initially, he was resistant to the idea, asserting that Dracula was dead and that the trip would serve no purpose. However, upon hearing about our persistent fears and flashbacks, he reconsidered and acknowledged that this journey might indeed provide an opportunity to confront our remaining anxieties and help desensitize the emotional scars that lingered within us.

Despite the toll of advancing age, Van Helsing remains a figure of strength and resilience. I believe his wisdom and experience will provide invaluable support as we navigate the shadows of our past. A week before the commencement of our expedition, I received a telegram from Professor Van Helsing, informing me of his inability to accompany us on our journey. While this news was certainly disheartening, I managed to secure the presence of Dr. John Seward as a substitute companion for the trip. With Dr. Seward by my side, I felt a renewed sense of confidence and assurance, knowing that his expertise and steadfastness would greatly enhance our undertaking.

In embarking on this journey, I have chosen to accompany my wife, Mina, and our young son, Quincy, with the primary objective of helping Mina overcome her lingering fear of Dracula. Although the physical scar on her forehead has diminished over time, the emotional scar that resides within her heart remains painfully vivid. Our lives have been overshadowed by haunting memories of the past, and the darkness of night often brings with it an unsettling sense of dread. It has become increasingly important for me to confront these fears head-on, rather than allowing them to dictate our lives.

We finally set foot in Transylvania after a lengthy absence of seven years. It has been seven years since we vanquished the infamous Dracula, yet the shadow of his legacy continues to loom large over the region. The local populace remains gripped by an enduring fear, so profound that they hesitate to utter his name, opting instead to display white daisies in their windows as a symbol of protection and remembrance. This pervasive atmosphere of dread serves as a stark reminder of the impact that one figure can have on an entire community, long after his physical presence has been eradicated.

Our quest to reach Dracula’s castle proved to be a difficult challenge, particularly in securing a horse-drawn carriage for the journey. Despite offering a generous fare, we encountered reluctance from numerous drivers, all of whom were unwilling to transport us, the English tourists, to such a notorious destination.

Dracula’s castle is located in the Carpathian Mountains, close to the Borgo Pass (Tihuța Pass), at the far eastern edge of Transylvania, where it borders Bukovina and Moldavia. Upon mentioning “Count Dracula’s castle” while providing directions, some coachmen exhibited signs of fear, making the sign of the cross, while others feigned ignorance about the area or claimed to have never heard of such a place. It was only after Dr. John Sewardproposed a more unconventional solution that we decided to purchase an old carriage. This vehicle, though aged, was constructed from robust oak and was drawn by a team of four powerful horses, specifically bred in Turkey for their strength and endurance, ensuring that we would be able to navigate the rugged terrain that lay ahead.

Our expedition commenced at the break of dawn, driven by a desire to reach the castle before the sun dipped below the horizon. Despite my awareness that Count Dracula and his bride were dead, I was determined to arrive at the castle while daylight still illuminated the path.

Unfortunately, the journey proved to be fraught with challenges, as the road was often obscured and intermittently blanketed in snow. This inclement weather caused significant delays, with the wheels of our cart becoming ensnared in the icy grip of the snow-covered terrain. At the helm of our cart was Dr. Seward, distinguished by his large fur hat, which lent him an air reminiscent of a Shigani, a member of the Roma community known for their skilled toil. With a deftness that spoke to his experience, he wielded his whip, expertly guiding the cart through the treacherous conditions, embodying the spirit of a seasoned driver navigating a difficult route.

This road holds a certain familiarity for me, as I traversed it seven years ago during the stillness of the night. At that time, I was a novice aspiring to become a paralegal, and I paid little heed to the tales of ghosts and supernatural beings that often accompanied such journeys. However, on that particular night, an unsettling fear gripped my heart, causing it to tremble with an intensity I had never experienced before. It was only later that I came to understand that the ominous carriage, pulled by horses as dark as coal, was none other than the infamous Count Dracula himself, a realization that transformed my perception of that eerie encounter forever.

The road ascends sharply and becomes increasingly narrow as it winds its way into the heart of the Carpathian Mountains. As the wagon progresses, it plunges into the depths of dense, shadowy pine forests that obscure the sky above, enveloping the surroundings in an oppressive darkness that renders the night utterly black and chillingly cold.

Upon reaching Boga Pass, I noticed the sun dipping below the horizon, casting an ominous glow that heightened my apprehensions. Nevertheless, I summoned my courage, reminding myself that we had vanquished Dracula and that he was no longer a threat. Yet, the chilling sound of howling wolves pierced the silence, causing my heart to race with trepidation. Clutching my Winchester rifle tightly, I discharged a few rounds into the night, finding a measure of comfort in the echoing gunfire that momentarily eased my anxiety. I could see the fear reflected in Mina’s eyes, and in an effort to reassure her, I gently grasped her hand. Unbeknownst to us, our young son lay peacefully asleep on Mina’s lap, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked in the shadows around us.

As we reached the base of the hill that led to Dracula’s castle, I found myself momentarily captivated by the imposing vision of the fortress looming in the distance. The sight was both awe-inspiring and unsettling, a stark reminder of the dark tales that surrounded this infamous location. My fearful intrusive memories came to the surface. But I repressed my fears.

Navigating the path proved to be a challenge, as it had clearly been neglected for years, with no carriage having traversed it in quite some time. Our ascent was slow and cautious, the carriage creaking under the strain as we climbed higher. Dr. Seward, maintaining a steady grip on the reins, raised his whip, yet he did not rush them, understanding the arduous nature of the journey ahead. The castle, perched majestically atop the hill, seemed to dominate the landscape, its presence both foreboding and majestic. As we reached the midpoint of our climb, the horses began to show signs of fatigue, their sides heaving and foam gathering at their mouths, yet Dr. Seward forced the horses to ascend.

Concerned for our safety, I cautioned Dr. Seward against allowing the carriage to veer too close to the edge of the narrow, snow-covered road. Mina, visibly shaken by the steep drop that lay just beyond our path, clutched little Quincy tightly in her lap, perhaps seeking to provide him with a sense of security amidst the growing tension. As we drew nearer to the castle, a thick fog began to envelop us, further complicating our journey and obscuring our view. Mina’s anxiety escalated, prompting her to insist that we turn back, but I sought to reassure her, reiterating that the threat of Dracula had been vanquished once and for all, hoping to quell her fears as we pressed on toward the ominous structure that awaited us.

After defeating Dracula, Professor Van Helsing recounted how he and Mina had positioned themselves near the castle, anticipating our arrival with the Romani group, who were tasked with transporting Dracula’s coffin. As night descended, the professor and Mina found themselves confronted by Dracula’s brides, who attempted to seduce Van Helsing and lure Mina to their side. In response, the professor employed crumbled holy wafers to create a protective circle around Mina at their campsite in Transylvania, effectively preventing the sinister women from approaching her. In a fit of rage, the brides resorted to killing the horses before disappearing into the night. Upon the arrival of morning, Professor Van Helsing proceeded to the castle, where he located the chapel housing the slumbering vampire women. He drove a stake through their hearts and severed their necks, ultimately liberating their tormented souls.

For many years, I have refrained from discussing her harrowing past, especially the incident when Dracula attempted to enslave her by draining her blood. I also reflected on my own encounter with him, vividly recalling the first glimpse of his piercing eyes and sharp ivory teeth. Now, we find ourselves once more confronting the same man we once dreaded and despised.

At long last, we found ourselves standing before a sprawling, ominous castle, its silhouette stark against the night sky, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon that cast eerie shadows upon the crumbling battlements. The atmosphere was thick with an unsettling silence, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves, as we approached the imposing stone entrance, which bore the weight of centuries and seemed to guard secrets long forgotten.

The hour was approximately 8 PM, and the encroaching darkness enveloped us, prompting me to ignite several lanterns in a desperate attempt to pierce the gloom. As we reached the main gate of Dracula’s castle, we were met with the sight of heavy iron chains and rusted hinges, a testament to years of neglect. The task of prying open the gate proved to be a formidable challenge, consuming nearly an hour of our time, during which the creaking of the door reverberated through the stillness, sending chills down my spine and raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

Summoning every ounce of bravery within me, I took the initiative to step into the mansion first, with my companions trailing closely behind. This was the very threshold from which Dracula had once extended his sinister invitation to me, and as I crossed into the dimly lit interior, I felt a wave of revulsion wash over me, as if the very walls were tainted by his presence. I instinctively moved away from the spot where he had stood, recalling his chilling words: “Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring!” His greeting, laced with dark irony and foreboding, echoed in my mind, hinting at the malevolence that lurked within these walls. Just then, Mina entered the mansion, her eyes wide with terror, clutching a cross in one hand and a small Quincy in the other, while Dr. Seward followed closely behind, his rifle gripped tightly, ready to confront whatever horrors awaited us in the depths of this accursed place.

The entrance to the castle was shrouded in a thick layer of cobwebs, which I cleared away using the butt of my revolver, a rather unconventional tool for such a task. Upon entering the living room, I recalled a conversation from my first day, during which he had pointed out a large portrait that hung above the table where Dracula had once prepared a meal for me. He had mentioned that the figure depicted in the painting was a celebrated hero from his generation. However, I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between the subject’s nose and that of Count Dracula himself, suggesting that the artwork might have been created during the count’s own youth. When I encountered him unexpectedly for the first time in London, I was taken aback by how closely his features mirrored those in the portrait. The eyes in the painting seemed to burn with an intense fire, compelling me to avert my gaze, as if they held secrets too profound to confront directly.

A thick layer of dust coated the surface of the table, a testament to the neglect that had befallen the room. With a sense of determination, I decided to ascend to the chamber I was occupying on the upper floor. Clutching a Langton in one hand and a revolver in the other, I joined my companions as we made our way up the creaking staircase. The garland of garlic flowers draped around my neck, coupled with the iron cross resting on my chest, instilled a sense of courage within me, bolstering my resolve in the face of the unknown.

Our passage left distinct footprints in the dust, marking our presence in this eerie abode. It was astonishing to observe that the gold-plated swords, which had adorned the wall adjacent to the staircase, remained untouched despite the passage of time, their gleam barely discernible in the dim light of our flickering torch. It was clear that no one had dared to enter Dracula’s castle to commit theft. Despite the notorious reputation of the Szgany and Slovaks for their willingness to steal even horses, they refrained from approaching the castle, fully aware of the gold and other treasures it contained.

Dr. Seward extended his hand towards a beautifully crafted gold dagger that was prominently showcased on the wall, his attention captivated by the exquisite details and the way the light danced upon its polished surface. As he leaned in to examine the blade’s sharpness more closely, an unfortunate mishap transpired; he inadvertently nicked his finger, causing several droplets of blood to fall onto the dusty steps beneath him. In that instant, a surge of frustration coursed through me, as I could not help but attribute the incident to his apparent lack of caution. With a look of remorse clearly visible on his face, Dr. Seward instinctively brought his injured finger to his mouth, using his tongue to apply pressure in a desperate attempt to halt the bleeding.

Upon locating the room designated for my stay, we managed to open the door.    The old door creaked ominously as it swung inward, the sound reverberating through the dimly lit house. This unexpected noise startled both Mina and the young Quincy boy, who were momentarily taken aback by the eerie atmosphere.

Upon entering the room, I was immediately captivated by the scene that unfolded before me; the bedspread, once vibrant with red patterns, now lay neglected under a thick layer of dust accumulated over time and moth-eaten. My eyes were inevitably drawn to the oak wood table beside the bed, a silent witness to memories long past. I recalled a particularly chilling encounter with Dracula, who had approached me while I was shaving at the mirror atop that very table. He called out from behind, yet his reflection was alarmingly absent when I turned to look. The shock of this realization caused my hand to tremble, resulting in a small cut on my cheek that released a few drops of blood. The moment he noticed the crimson droplets, a horrifying transformation swept over his face; his eyes ignited with a sinister red glow, instilling a profound sense of terror within me. My gaze then shifted to the cross hanging on the wall, a haunting reminder of that fateful encounter, which continues to evoke fear in me to this day.

As I gazed out the window of the room, my attention was drawn to the sheer cliff that loomed ominously below. This was not the first time I had peered through this very window; a previous encounter had left an indelible mark on my memory.

As I looked out the window, my eyes were drawn to the imposing cliff that towered ominously below. This was not my first encounter with this view; a previous experience had left a lasting impression, as I had seen the unsettling figure of Count Dracula moving along the ancient stone walls, his motions akin to those of a bat or lizard. The moment I observed him crawling like a reptile, I understood he was far from human.

I mimicked Dracula’s movements, though I chose not to adopt his characteristic head-down posture. Instead, I leaned out of the window, firmly grasping the stones as I gradually climbed to the window of his room below, intent on locating the key to the main door. Looking back, I struggle to understand the desperation that propelled me into such a dangerous endeavor. Nevertheless, the seriousness of my situation was evident, as I was confronted with a life-and-death dilemma that necessitated this considerable risk. As I gazed out the window, a flood of memories from the past overwhelmed me, prompting me to step back from the view. As I gazed out the window, a flood of memories from the past overwhelmed me, prompting me to step back from the view.

While exploring the mansion’s various chambers, we encountered a particularly captivating room containing a large earthenware jar filled with gold coins. The sight of this treasure was truly remarkable, prompting both Dr. Seward and me to eagerly fill our packs with the shimmering coins, each one feeling substantial in our grasp. Upon further examination, we discovered that the coins were adorned with intricate Turkish engravings, which added a layer of historical importance to our discovery. The initial fear that had enveloped me began to fade, gradually replaced by an overwhelming sense of greed as the prospect of such wealth consumed my thoughts. Driven by the desire to seize this extraordinary fortune, we hurriedly collected as many of Dracula’s riches as our packs could hold.

Upon entering the expansive room on the upper floor, I was immediately entranced by the sight of dust particles dancing in the moonlight that poured through the windows. The atmosphere was laden with a spooky stillness, evoking memories of three captivating figures that haunted my thoughts: the brides of Dracula. Their ghostly smiles, alluring lips, and voluptuous silhouettes stirred a chaotic blend of exhilaration and dread within me. I was acutely aware of the room where I had encountered these enchanting yet malevolent women, their sinister laughter still resonating in my mind. I could almost feel their warm breath brushing against my lips and neck. As I glanced at Mina, a wave of guilt surged over me, urging me to suppress any lingering thoughts of these beguiling yet threatening figures.

Mina expressed her inability to remain in the haunted mansion any longer. As darkness enveloped the surroundings and the moon had disappeared, I consoled her and descended the stairs. Upon reaching the lower floor, an unexpected noise startled us, instilling a sense of fear. Mina instinctively gathered the child in her arms. Dr. Seward, armed with a cross and a gun, joined us on the ground floor. Once we arrived, we found nothing amiss and speculated that the sound had likely been produced by rats, which lessened our initial fear and anxiety.

As we exited the main gate, the air was charged with unease, accentuated by the restless snorts of our horses, unsettled by the distant howls of wolves echoing through the night. Although the wolves themselves remained concealed in the shadows, their eyes shone uncannily, resembling polished glass that caught the faintest glimmers of light. Dr. Seward, having successfully calmed the agitated horses, offered his assistance in helping us into the carriage, ensuring we were securely settled before we ventured into the unknown. To deter the wolves, we discharged a few shots as we distanced ourselves from Dracula’s castle, a sight none of us dared to glance back at, burdened by the weight of its cursed presence. A sense of relief washed over me as we finally moved away from that dreadful place.

Dr. Seward cracked the whip, and they trudged slowly down the snowy incline. As we descended several miles, I glanced back at Dracula’s mansion, which was steadily fading from view. In the pale moonlight, a large bat flitted near the roof of the estate, instilling a sense of fear and confusion within me. Despite my apprehension, I made an effort to mask my unease from the others, reassuring myself that it was merely a nocturnal bat.

As we journeyed through the shrouded darkness of the night, we covered a considerable distance, gradually allowing ourselves to relax as the tension that had gripped us began to dissipate. However, this sense of ease was fleeting, lasting no more than a mere hour. Without warning, the horses came to an abrupt halt, as if they had been petrified by an unseen force. Peering out of the carriage window, I was met with a chilling sight: Count Dracula stood before us, an imposing figure frozen in time, reminiscent of a mythical statue. His ivory teeth sparkled with an unnatural brilliance under the silvery glow of the moonlight, while the intensity of his gaze radiated an unmistakable ferocity. Overwhelmed by a surge of fear and confusion, a primal scream erupted from the depths of my being, echoing the terror that gripped my heart.   My horrifying cry echoed through the mountains, instilling fear not only in Mina and little Quincy but even in iron-hearted Dr. Seward.

It took several moments for my senses to return to me, during which time Dr. Seward and I carefully retrieved the lamp from the cart and cautiously advanced a few steps forward. In my trembling hands, I clutched the golden cross, acutely aware of the risk that it might slip from my grasp and fall to the ground. I must express my admiration for Dr. Seward’s unwavering bravery; he took hold of both the lamp and the Winchester rifle, moving ahead with a determined resolve. Yet, as we proceeded, we found no indication of any presence along our path, prompting us to retrace our steps back to the cart. In contemplating the tumultuous events that unfolded, I concluded that I may have witnessed the figure of Dracula. It is possible that this experience was merely a flashback, leading my mind to deceive me.

To steady my nerves, I took a small sip from the bottle of brandy that Dr. Seward had generously offered me, and then I climbed into the cart, where I embraced Mina and the child tightly. In a gesture of protection, Mina began to sprinkle the holy water she had brought with her over the cart, while Dr. Seward skillfully harnessed the horses and resumed our journey in the carriage.

The view of Dracula’s castle fading into the distance instilled a profound sense of relief, a feeling I presumed Mina also experienced after her own tribulations during this arduous journey. In contrast, Quincy remained blissfully unaware of the ominous threats surrounding us, peacefully sleeping in his mother’s arms, shielded from the perils that had endangered our lives.

The atmosphere transformed dramatically as the sun rose behind the rugged mountains. With the arrival of dawn and the sun’s ascent, I breathed a sigh of relief, acutely aware of our fatigue; we were utterly drained from our travels, and even our horses exhibited signs of distress, their foaming mouths and restless movements mirroring the tension that had shrouded us. Ultimately, we reached a hotel and needed a rest.

Upon our arrival, the innkeeper and his wife promptly crossed themselves. The innkeeper whispered something to his wife in Romani, prompting her to retreat to the kitchen with a look of alarm. Exhausted and famished, we enjoyed a meal of chicken stew accompanied by cashews, pepper, and black bread, while I sipped on Carpathian wine that alleviated my stress. The waiter who attended to us treated us with evident hostility, occasionally muttering in Romani. His gaze fell upon the gold cross adorning Mina’s chest, and he reacted with a grimace.

After enjoying a hearty meal, we retired to our lodgings, quickly succumbing to an overwhelming fatigue that rendered us as still as logs in sleep. The combination of our physical exertion and the effects of the local Carpathian wine facilitated a deep and uninterrupted rest. Despite the occasional howling of dogs piercing the night, my slumber remained undisturbed, allowing me to awaken rejuvenated the next morning.

 (The end of part 1)