A Letter From Your Dear Friend, Dracula
WHAT A VILE, WICKED CREATURE THAT SOLICITOR IS. JUST AS I THOUGHTβ
Just as I thought he was a friend again. Just as I thought his sickness had gotten better. Just as I could believe he had gathered his mind enough to recognize what I am.
No. I must take a breath. I should not write you veiled by my anger.
My day started off quite nicely. I enjoyed a nice meal and woke up without a thought needing to be paid to my move. It was as if all the greys that formed over these last two months had simply vanished. Everything about me felt rejuvenated. Practically born anew. That is, until it was my time to slumber only to wake up toβ¦
Only to wake up to Jonathan above my bed with a shovel. Having just attacked me. Blood dripped down my face like a cold shock of water. It clung to my skin, an unwelcome wound that may have well scarred my soul just as it had my head. Vicious, hot pain I have not felt in years. Something more insulting than any word that boy could have dared pen.
Of course, I wake up simply furious. What hysterical thoughts of his have led him to such a diabolical solution?! He has the gall to stare at my awakened form as if it were the grim reaper instead casting its looming shadow upon him! The moment our eyes met, Jonathan dropped the offending weapon and fled the scene of his crime. A cowardly, execrable soul he carries within him!
Immediately I locked the castle doors, and him inside, as he attempted to use the workersβ arrival to escape. I could not risk being attacked in my own home, the very sanctuary I have treated him so graciously in, again to-night or have him in this state terrorizing the village. The ladies can take care of him as they please tomorrow. He is out of my hands now. With great pleasure, I will be taking my leave tonight and abandoning the wretched individuals and actions that haunt the halls of my former residence. The burdensome tribulations of this move and his abhorrent departing gift nearly leaves me abject, with the only yearnings left in my heart being that of our times together in the castle.
Please do not worry about my wound. While I fear it may scar, it is properly bandaged and cared for. I implore you to be tender on the subject of both the wounds of my flesh and my pride when we see each other once again.
Your, very much alive and insulted, friend,
The choice to have sentences composed of only capitalized letters when transcribing this letter came from Draculaβs unusual approach to handwriting. The words now displayed in caps were written in that same animalistic quality of his letter on May 17th. Words were written larger than his usual format, and letters practically bled together, making this one longer to decipher and transcribe. The size of lines changes throughout the letter, with only the biggest translated in caps lock, in a way that oddly reminded me of breathing. Almost like the ragged breathes he was taking to calm himself infected his writing style. Or maybe as if he couldnβt see the size of the last line as well.
It is shocking to read his guest attacked him, and still he chose to leave the likely still delusional man, even if only for a possible day, with his βladies of the manorβ he spoke mostly positively of for the first time last letter. Itβs unclear how Jonathan reacted to the ladies since Draculaβs May 16th letter didnβt really recount anything but him being distressed that they talked to Jonathan, and we lack Jonathanβs side of the story. I wonder what he would have written.οΏΌ
[Begin] [previous letter] [Take a letter from the box?] [next letter]
