#And John Seward gets with Quincey Morris because I say so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vickyvicarious · 1 year

Text

May 24, or: Lucy and the Three Suitors

The first was too straightforward, the second was too jolly, and the last was just right.

...Okay, it's not quite that simple, especially given that Lucy didn't describe Arthur's proposal in detail, but it's still interesting to notice the differences in their proposals and what that reveals about them as characters, or more specifically about their relationship to Lucy. Let's take a glance. (This wound up just being Lucy/Arthur propaganda, basically.)

John 'Jack' Seward

"number One came just before lunch"

"He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream."

"He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him."

"He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled"

"with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope."

"he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best"

Number One obviously practiced for this. He rehearsed it in his head, had a clear script, and only broke away from that when it became very obvious that his straightforward and direct approach was upsetting Lucy. He cut himself off right away once he did notice, to his credit, but still seemed to hold hopes that perhaps this might be just because she doesn't know him well enough yet, or that he might hold out hope for the future. Depending on whether or not you think the suitors all knew they had shared affections for the same girl (I lean towards yes), then the hesitation kind of points towards him hoping it isn't what he already suspects to be true.

He knew he would be extremely nervous and attempted to hide his nerves by carefully and deliberately controlling his actions. But again and again, Lucy saw through him. I think his coming earlier in the day points as well to 'getting it over with', not letting his nerves build up even longer (especially if he knows the others are proposing too and if she says yes he won't get a chance). The way he spoke to her, very directly and clearly, points not only to nerves and trying to stick to things that are simple/difficult to bungle, but also to a more direct approach socially. He's not as comfortable with talking around things, he wants to be clear and direct. This isn't a bad quality but is one that might be difficult for Lucy if he expects the same from other people. She has already made a couple of comments that suggest she has a hard time being honest/direct with her words. If this man doesn't notice her unease until she is literally crying in front of him, he's probably not tuned in enough to be able to get her to admit when something is bothering her.

While he meant only the best, he was unable to easily read her feelings, and unable to hide the depth his own. He left Lucy feeling guilty that she couldn't reciprocate, knowing that by failing to do so she was causing him pain.

Quincey P. Morris

"number Two came after lunch"

"He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas, and he looks so young and so fresh that it seems almost impossible that he has been to so many places and has had such adventures. [...] I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't,"

"he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things"

"Mr. Morris sat down beside me and looked as happy and jolly as he could, but I could see all the same that he was very nervous."

"'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'"

"he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him."

"He really did look serious when he was saying it, and I couldn't help feeling a bit serious too"

"before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free:—'[...]Tell me, like one good fellow to another, is there any one else that you care for?"

"That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival—wasn't it?—and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him."

"He wrung my hand, and taking up his hat, went straight out of the room without looking back, without a tear or a quiver or a pause; and I am crying like a baby."

Quincey followed right after lunch, right in the middle of the day. Once again, she saw that he looked nervous, but by and large he succeeds too well in hiding his own feelings from Lucy. This is the opposite problem from the last proposal. She notices his charm plenty, but because there is so much of it and because he does it so well, she initially feels that he is less sincere, or at least less vulnerable. Lucy is more moved by Quincey, and thinks he could win her over if she weren't already in love, but she also seems to think his charm is more generally polished and not as specific to her. In reality though, Quincey has been altering his behavior to please her and came with a planned proposal that he thought would make her happy. Once again, it didn't go the way he expected and he had to improvise, but the way he did so was different. He deliberately opened up and let her see how deeply he felt, and then that moved her much more than his lighthearted approach had. But he also noticed her emotions weren't quite matching his, and stopped himself. He noticed sooner, and she again responded to him more, but this was still after he had given his big speech 'before she could say a word', somewhat cutting her off. Once again, the communication isn't quite on a level, although it comes closer.

Quincey is more socially adept but also more likely to hold back his own feelings. He tells stories and jokes to please others. While he's generally more confident, I think the way it takes him so long to bare his emotions also can point to him having difficulty opening up like that. Sure, it was a strategy, but one that speaks to how he usually approaches difficult conversations. He's generally not as comfortable being so direct, at least about his own feelings (of course when he has to face that she doesn't return them, he isn't hesitant/is brave, and once he acts he does so resolutely). He's more similar to Lucy in this way, but maybe too similar, enough that it's hard for both of them to be serious/straightforward with one another. When he got her to take him seriously and it didn't work out, he retreated and she was left feeling guilty once again. Less so than before, I think, as she has more confidence in his ability to handle his own emotions, but that could also just point to her not being able to see him as clearly.

Arthur Holmwood

"Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could;"

"it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me"

"I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend."

Less to say here! But let's notice how it contrasts the others. While they had only one successful try, Arthur has taken three attempts to get out his proposal (counting this successful one). This could point to a couple of things - he sees her more often, he's alone with her more frequently but for shorter amounts of time, he's more confident he will be received well, he's having trouble holding his feelings back. I think it's probably a combination of all of the above. They've spent a lot of time together, enough to start rumors. Her mom likes him a lot and wants to spend time with him too, and perhaps thus interrupts them more. Lucy has also been trying to help him make chances, which he's noticed. And lastly, he doesn't even attempt to hide his feelings here.

Earlier, Lucy mentioned that she wasn't sure he loved her back, but it seems like that may be more her doubting herself than him trying to restrain his emotions. Because at least as far as we are told, he doesn't try to control himself at all. He also does not have a speech. Maybe this is down to the earlier failed attempts, and he wants to just get it all out now in a rush. But regardless, in this entry at least Lucy is able to clearly read his interest, and he can clearly read hers in return. Rather than the mistakes made between the others, there is no confusion here. They are both on the same page.

Any one of these men could have potentially won Lucy over in different circumstances. They all genuinely love her and they all have good relationships. (I love the way Lucy emphasizes that Arthur is her friend too, as well as the others.) But Lucy/Arthur is the couple we end up with. Partly this is due to pre-existing feelings. But I think timing aside, we also see that there are some communication difficulties with the other two men. Whether it's trouble noticing the other's emotions (Lucy for Quincey, Jack for Lucy), or difficulty communicating the depth of their own feelings (Quincey, Lucy), etc.

The usage of the planned and specific proposal vs. the more spontaneous and confused one illustrates this well. Lucy entries continue to have a focus on the ability to speak freely. Sure, we don't actually hear either of the couple speak directly here, but that actually points to them being so caught up in/openly expressing themselves that it's all just a jumble. There is no long stilted conversation, no one-sided speechifying. They're both involved, both equally caught up in emotion.

Not to get into spoilers, but... I think it's important for Lucy to be with someone who is able to tell how she is feeling, and communicate his own emotions clearly to her. It's a good match for her tendency to downplay or have difficulty expressing herself. While everyone could do well enough, the way the proposals are written set Arthur up as having the best ability to be open/get Lucy to open up as well.

Sure, her mother likes him, and he's rich and titled, but on an interpersonal level I think he is genuinely the best choice for her, not merely a safe one.

#dracula daily #lucy westenra #lucy/arthur #suitor squad #jack seward #quincey morris #arthur holmwood #my meta

62 notes · View notes

somnesca · 2 years

Text

Fuck it.

The Polycula as Disney Princesses*

*includes non-official ""princesses"" because I don't care about that branding crap and this is more fun

Mina Harker: Some might think Belle is the obvious parallel here but imo she's better suited as Tiana. No one works harder, deserves better, or handles malevolent harbingers of the underworld with more guts and grace. Plus: she's got a beautiful fancy best friend.

Jonathan Harker: ...honestly I had too many options here but our good friend is taken hostage by a lord of a creepy castle with dark secrets, avoids a pack of wolves, wanders into forbidden wings, and bonds with said lord over their mutual interest in books. Jonathan is the OG Belle and there's nothing I can do about it. Plus: he loves his "monster" (Mina, of course, not Drac) and WILL defy all of society to defend that love if he has to.

John Seward: Suddenly overwhelmed with evidence of creatures and beings that don't make any sense? Check. Firmly believing there is "madness" in others while avoiding confronting his own? Check. Baffled by seemingly nonsensical wordplay of one of his helpful companions? Check. He's Alice in Wonderland, all right. Someone come get him out of this rabbit hole.

Arthur Holmwood: Ok bear with me on this one, it's kind of a deep cut. I was leaning toward a classic princess at first, but then it occurred to me: a character who is glamorous and elegant and comes from high society, but who will jump into action when innocent lives are on the line, even using their connections to travel to far-off lands... well that's the lovely Miss Bianca from The Rescuers, baby.

Quincey Morris: This was harder than it should have been because not enough classic Disney princesses are allowed to have guns. (But they should.) So I went with just vibes. Who loves adventure and not being confined to a single place? Who's great with horses and quickly befriends tough guys and thieves through sheer earnestness? Who would absolutely fuck up an intruder (whether human or bat) without hesitation and with any weapon that's available to them? None other but Rapunzel.

Abraham van Helsing: I love the thought of a curious and passionate academic who winds up in a land very different from their own, who pushes through the difficulties of language barriers to connect and communicate with locals through compassion and understanding. Sure, his attempts are a bit clumsy from time to time and the locals may never fully understand the nuances of his culture, but he becomes a most beloved protector nonetheless. Ergo: Jane Porter from Tarzan.

Lucy Westenra: Now we could go the Aurora route and that suits me just fine (both are victims of a sleeping disorder and don't get that much screentime) buuut she is the fairest in all the land, charms the hell out of older men, and is released from her supernatural death curse with a gesture of true love...Snow White, is that you?

Renfield: Look at his stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think his collection's complete (although adding a kitten would be nice)? Poor Renfield's got a strong voice with a lot to say but no one listens to him, because he's angling for something more by striking a deal with a dark power. Despite all his best efforts, he does not end up being part of that world. (But he can be a part of ours! Tumblr loves you, Ariel Renfield.)

I invite alternatives and arguments if you feel so moved, it shouldn't need to be said but this is not to be taken seriously by any means.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #mina harker #john seward #arthur holmwood #quincey morris #abraham van helsing #lucy westenra #renfield #i think i was inspired by jonathan harker's disney princess vibes?#so i wanted to try my hand at the others #if this has already been done i... am so sorry

181 notes · View notes

sunshine-zenith · 2 years

Text

As a phlebotomist, let me talk about how I think blood draws with the Dracula cast would go (part 2 — part 1 is here)

The Weird Sisters (or Brides of Dracula if you prefer): they’d probably show up together and Insist the blonde one go first before we even think about sticking the other two. They’d probably be really intense about the first draw, but not curious — staring throughout the entire process, but not asking questions and probably talking amongst each other without looking away. I would Cry if I had to redirect the needle (yes, it happens. No, we don’t enjoy it anymore than you do) — I don’t think they’d complain, but they would deffo glare (which like. Valid). After the blonde one went, the brunettes would probably go at the same time. They’d probably have creepily similar veins

Dr. John Seward: he strikes me as the type of person who would Want to have a “reaction” (phleb for the various Oh Fuck I Suddenly Don’t Feel Goods), just so he could see what it’s like (which like. I can’t really talk, my first day of on the job training I donated impulsively and got light headed and I had my trainer talk through the Whys and What to Dos). For some reason I can see him having deep veins. Also, since he is part of the medical care field, there’s be an automatic amused camaraderie on my part, simply because I’d feel like he’d Get the whole (necessary but still) Song And Dance we have to do at work

Quincey Morris: he’d have the rolliest veins, istg. No matter how good a stick you are, you’d have to redirect because they would visibly jump away at the slightest pressure. On the other have, he’d probably be super chill about it, and since rolly veins are usually pretty easy to see, it wouldn’t be to hard to find and catch them again. He’d also probably be a great conversationalist throughout the entire process

Arthur Holmwood: listen this guy is the classic literary equivalent of responding to a long text message with “k.” He’s be quiet and a little awkward, but he’d probably have decent veins and would probably say something if he was starting to have a reaction. Something about him feels like he’d have better hand veins (which you can’t use in donation phlebotomy, but you Can in clinical/lab work phlebotomy)

Also Art, Quincey, and Dr. Seward would absolutely race to see would could fill the blood bag the fastest

Renfield: remember how last time I said Dracula would jump off the table, grab the nearest blood tube, and down it like a shot? Yeah, that but tenfold would Renfield here. Shoot, he’d probably go through the effort of memorizing Order Of Draw just to down the tubes in order

#dracula #dracula daily #quincy morris #dr john seward #arthur holmwood #adventure in certifiable vampirism #also yes I promise I’m a good stick and I’m not saying any of these are Bad (except for Renfield)

31 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series.

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes!

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels.

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying.

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts.

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story.

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations.

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes.

Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style.

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible.

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3CPaitL

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

7 notes · View notes

knovesstorytelling · 3 years

Text

Murray Mysteries Transcript S1E14

Episode 14. Dear Lucy

Written by May Toudic

Mina: Welcome to Murray Mysteries.

[Theme music plays.]

[A phone rings.]

Voicemail: You have one new message.

[A beep.]

Mina: Hey Lucy! I’m sorry I’ve been pretty much unreachable lately. Things have been so busy I haven’t even been able to catch up on my own podcast. Although I’m not sure it’s even really mine anymore. It’s ours, that is if you haven’t managed to turn it into The Lucy Show by now. Let Dr. Seward get a word in once in a while, will you?

Mina: Again. I’m really sorry I haven’t stayed in touch, although you aren’t answering your phone, so who’s fault is it really. Think of that before you make fun of me for leaving a voicemail. You’re probably fabulously busy as always, so I thought I’d upload this little update so you can listen to it whenever you have time. So much has happened, it’s uh...it’s actually hard to know where to start.

Mina: Okay. We got back to the UK a couple of weeks ago, after Jonathon’s doctor said he was well enough to travel. Jon’s boss, Mr. Hawkins, picked us up at the airport and insisted we stay with him for a while, which is kind of weird, but I think he just felt guilty for sending Jonathon on that trip.

Mina: He’s a really nice man. We’ve been exchanging emails since I started getting worried about Jon and he said he felt responsible for all this. I would love to extend his hospitality until we both got our bearings again. I just, I get the sense he’s just really lonely and happy to have us around. He’s always fussing over Jonathon and asking if we need anything.

Mina: We never do, of course, because it feels like this place already seems to have everything anyone could possibly want. If you ever think about having a snack, there’s a housekeeper, yes there’s a housekeeper, will appear with a tray of like, pastries, or like cheese platter or something. And this house, you should see it. Lucy, it is insane. It looks like a museum. I’m scared to touch anything but I want to touch everything!

Mina: And every single item has a story. Turns out Jonathon was right, you can travel a lot as a solicitor. Mr. Hawkins has been everywhere and he loves to talk about it. I don’t think he’s been asked about his life and he like, he lights up anytime I ask a question. It’s kind of adorable.

Mina: Obviously I wanted to visit you since, since I got back, I really miss you. I really miss your face. And your voice. I even miss your teasing. That’s saying something. But between Jonathon’s recovery and Mr. Hawkins clearly needing the company, I didn’t feel like I’d get away. Besides, I know you’re probably surrounded by your adoring friends and lover. You’ve likely forgotten about me already.

Mina: Jon’s been getting better. He started walking again, though Mr. Hawkins won’t let him go back to the office. They’ve been working from home a few days a week and Jon’s in the running to make partner. Which, as I understand it, is pretty much like the biggest promotion you can get. He’s worried some of his colleagues might see it as nepotism, but I like to remind him he literally laid down his life for the company. He deserves the damn job.

Mina: He still gets nightmares about it. You know, whatever it is. Every once in a while he wakes up shaking in the middle of the night and I have to talk him down until he remembers where he is. It’s really scary.

Mina: What is it with everyone I love and refusing to sleep through the night like normal people. Speaking of, I hope you’re doing better with the whole sleepwalking thing or at least that Art is around to stop you falling off of cliffs. You know, I wouldn’t have to worry if you’d just answer your phone. Answer your phone, Lucy.

Mina: Jonathan said to give you his best, but I think that’s pretty weak coming from the junior partner of the most important firm of Hawkin and Harker. So, I’m sending you his love. And mine. Lots and lots of it. See you soon, and don’t fall off any cliffs.

[A beep. Jane sighs.]

Jane: We need to tell her.

Van Hellsing: We will. Soon.

Jane: Soon, when? She’s dying.

Art: Jane’s right. Mina should be here.

Van Hellsing: Trust me. It’s better for Miss Murray to stay out of this. The less people are involved, the better.

Quincey: Do you ever know what she’s talking about?

Jane: On... occasion.

Art: God. I wish there were something I could do. Anything. I would die instead of her if I could, I just… Why her?

Van Hellsing: That is a more complicated question than you can imagine. But the simple answer is because she was chosen. And once someone’s chosen, there’s nothing any of us can do. You gave her love in her last, hardest moments. And that did more for her than sacrificing your life ever could.

Art: Thank you. I wish I believed that.

Van Hellsing: She’d tell you the same if she could.

Art: I don’t know, she doesn’t even look like herself. She’s so pale and—

Quincey: Yeah, do her teeth look longer to you?

Jane: Probably a trick of the light.

Quincey: How—

[Sheets rustle.]

Lucy: Art?

Art: I’m here. See? Right here.

Lucy: Come closer.

Van Hellsing: Don’t! I’m sorry. I know you want to say goodbye. But we have to be careful.

Art: Of what? Is she s—

Van Hellsing: Not herself. Not anymore.

Jane: Professor…

Quincy: Come on Art, let’s get some air.

Art: What? No, I have to—

Quincey: She’s gone. There’s nothing more you can do.

[Art sobs.]

Art: Lucy.

Quincey: Come on.

[They leave.]

Jane: That’s— that’s it? It’s over?

Van Hellsing: Not quite I’m afraid. This is just the beginning.

[Credits music begins]

Credits: Murray Mysteries is a Knoves Storytelling production. This episode was written and produced by May Toudic and featured Drew Victorie as Mina Murray, Bebhinn Tankard as Dr. Jane Seward, Rebecca Krause as Professor Van Hellsing, Lucy Willis as Art Holmwood, Tom Magennis as Quincey Morris, and Megan John as Lucy Westenra. Original music by Sophie K. If you like our work, and would like to support us, you can sign for our Patreon at Pateron.com/KnovesStorytelling or follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. Thank you for listening.

#mm transcripts #murray mysteries season 1

5 notes · View notes

flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Strangers in the Night

Summary: After the mysterious disappearance of her partner, Jonathan Harker, Detective Agatha Van Helsing finds herself delving into a case that is otherworldly.

Rating: T

Pairing: Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: This was requested so I thought I’d write a chapter and see where it goes! Feedback is loved and highly appreciated! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

Chapter One

Detective Agatha Van Helsing had been a part of the West Yorkshire Police force for nearly twenty years. It was both a rewarding and strenuous profession. She'd witnessed it all, murders, kidnappings, burglaries, any given crime one could name. As time went on, her stomach hardened, her emotions with it. She was brave. Thrived on any given challenge. It was her calling-and to think that she had almost become a nun.

"Coffee?"

Agatha looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk. Her partner, Jonathan Harker, stood at her side, drink in hand. The two had been a team for the past few years ever since John had transferred from Scotland Yard after marrying his wife, Mina, and moving to Yorkshire. They worked well together, the man almost as dedicated to his work as Agatha was. Perhaps she'd even considered him a friend. The couple had, after all, invited her over multiple times for dinner-most of the time she declined. While John was married to Mina, Agatha was married to her work.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the cup gratefully.

"Don't know how you can drink that stuff," he chuckled. "Especially without any cream or sugar. I prefer tea myself, or even a nice hot chocolate."

"It keeps me focused," she explained, taking a long sip. Bitter. Just how she preferred it. "You're here early."

"And you're here earlier," he countered. "Going over the cold cases again?" Jonathan leaned over her shoulder curiously, his eyes scanning the various pages spread out from a file folder. "The seaside murders? You mean, you're looking into the Whitby Ripper again?"

"The expanse of it all," Agatha muttered, flipping through the papers. "The Whitby Ripper is just the tip of the iceberg. The murders, how it's all organized, we could be looking at a mafia like set up."

"...Where the Whitby Ripper is the crime lord?" He questioned, seeming uncertain of her claims. "But we haven't come across anyone or any leads that would link to an organized crime circuit. Someone or something can't be that underground."

"And yet, here we are," the detective sighed, motioning to the mess. "Trying to dig past the surface. I know I'm missing something," she mumbled, taking another swig of coffee. "Just can't figure out what."

"Well, maybe…"

"Van Helsing, Harker."

Jonathan was cut short as an older man approached. Howard Nye had been Chief of Police nearly as long as Agatha had been there. Gruff, but surprisingly patient, the two respected each other well enough. Jonathan, however, had yet to earn his favor, much to the younger man's disappointment.

"There's been a suspected homicide report off of Leeds, in the abandoned spice building? Another weird one, thought it best you two go out and take a look," his eyes flickered down to Agatha's desk. "Take notes."

Despite being one of the first to be alerted, Agatha wasn't surprised to find others already on the scene. Parking the car, Jonathan on her heels, she lifted the police tape with a gloved hand and entered the building. Dark. Musky. Even though the shop had closed years ago, the scent of cinnamon was in the air.

"Agatha, John, I was wondering when you two would show up."

Jack Seward, the station's forensic scientist, waved the two officers over. Agatha had actually known Jack before he was hired. It had been, after all, her recommendation that got him in. A few years back, when she agreed to give a lecture at a local university, the young man had come to her requesting mentor-ship. Surprised by the young graduate student's interest, they developed a bond. Perhaps, like Jonathan, she might go as far as to say Jack was her friend.

"What are we looking at?" The detective inquired, walking over to the motionless figure on the ground.

"Female, no source of identification," the forensic scientist stated, moving around the body. "In her twenties maybe, but here's the thing."

Jack pointed down and Agatha followed with her eyes. In the middle of the woman's chest was a long, thick piece of wood that pierced deep within her. A stake. The detective frowned, noting how the color of the woman's body was incredibly pale. Whiter than the average shade of a post mortem body. She had been drained of her blood.

"Her neck has the same marking too," the man said quietly, breaking the silence. Taking his pen, Jack carefully moved a lock of hair out of the way to reveal two deep bite-like marks near her jugular. "We could be looking at another victim of the Whitby Ripper."

"Convenient," Agatha huffed, attention turning to Jonathan. "I suppose I picked the right file to examine today." She cleared her throat, catching the eyes of those around her. "Take pictures of everything. Samples. Any clues. If anything even looks remotely out of place, consider that it is."

It was going to be a long day.

XXX

"What do you mean you neglected to dispose of the body?"

Dracula's voice was low as he stared at Lord Harvey Ruthven from his seat. Even when he didn't lose his temper, the elder vampire was terrifying. The man swallowed, trying his best not to meet the Count's gaze. He had messed up. Royally so. And as a member of the Transylvanian Mafia, that was far from a good thing.

"I made sure she was dead," he sputtered. "I was careful-"

Dracula held his hand up. "I didn't ask about you killing her, I asked about the aftermath." He sighed, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. "Harvey, Harvey, Harvey, I don't ask much of you. Of any of you. I give you the eternal gift of life and this is how you repay me?"

"Clearly he's unworthy of it," chuckled a feminine voice. Lucy Westenra floated into the common room, her heels clicking on the stone floor. "Rule number one, never be sloppy."

"Like you would know," Harvey countered, glaring at the woman. "Always finding luxury with wealthy men. Draining their blood and getting their cash. Unbecoming."

"I help provide for this family," she sneered. "What do you contribute?" Lucy looked over her shoulder towards the entrance. "Frank, dear, exactly how much as Mr. Lord Ruthven helped out?"

"I...I don't exactly have the papers on me," the middle aged vampire replied meekly. "All of the accounting work and-"

"Just stop. All of you. You're giving me a headache," Dracula growled. "I have enough on my plate dealing with the four of you, now the police are looking into us again." He frowned, leaning against his desk. "That Agatha Van Helsing, always so persistent."

"We could always kill her," another voice suggested. When Quincey Morris stepped from the shadows, Lucy giggled and hurried to his side. It was almost sickening how she clung to him. "I don't see why we can't go that route."

The Transylvanian Mafia had called England a home for over a century. Dracula was the head. The boss. The true mastermind. Harvey had been the first to join, a man he'd turned from The Demeter out of sheer boredom. Frank followed a few decades later. He was a lawyer, good with paperwork and accounting. Lucy had come out of pure fascination, Quincey joining her because he came as a packaged deal.

Together, the five vampires lived in a stone mansion, very reminiscent of a castle. Money. Murder. They lived in a world of their own. A world they tried to maintain and keep quiet. An existence that was threatened when one of them slipped up.

"No," Dracula interrupted. "Killing Detective Van Helsing would be risky. We have no choice but to lie low again until this all blows over. Hopefully dear Harvey didn't leave anything to track us. For the time being," he sighed. "We feed only on vagrants, homeless, those who clearly won't be missed. I know they don't taste the best," he smirked. "But you can thank your brother for that. Dismissed."

Harvery clenched his fists as Lucy, grasping Quincey's hand, strode past him, shooting him a dirty look. Frank was quiet, hurrying by to do whatever the hell the lawyer did in his spare time. Though he was frightened by him, Lord Ruthven wasn't about to lower his standards to drink some dirty beggar. He'd go out tonight and be careful. Even the count wouldn't realize he'd left.

XXX

"I'm going to call it a night," Jonathan sighed, stretching his arms. "Are you coming?"

It was well into the late evening, most of the police department gone-or switching rounds. Agatha still found herself pouring over the latest information connected to the cold case. Not much was learned about the woman yet, but having a new victim was a lead in itself.

"You go on ahead," she suggested. "I think I'll stay a little longer."

"Alright," Jonathan said. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tell Mina I said hi," the detective responded, sounding clearly preoccupied. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

As the night wore on, Agatha found herself growing sleepy. Every time her head slipped down, she immediately sat back up straight. It was hard to focus when exhaustion tugged at your consciousness. It wasn't until her phone began to vibrate wildly on her desk did the detective realize she'd fallen asleep.

Blinking wearily, she picked up the device and looked at the call identification. Mina. Puzzled, she answered it.

"Mina?" Agatha began. "What's wrong-?"

"It's John," the woman said, her tone frantic. "Agatha, John isn't here. He...he never made it home!"

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Netflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Dragatha #Strangers in the Night

9 notes · View notes

draculalive · 5 years

Text

Mina Harker's Journal.

I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion is ready, so I shall get our party together and read it. They can judge it; it is well to be accurate, and every minute is precious.

Mina Harker's Memorandum.

(Entered in her Journal.)

Ground of inquiry. -- Count Dracula's problem is to get back to his own place.

He must be brought back by some one. This is evident; for had he power to move himself as he wished he could go either as man, or wolf, or bat, or in some other way. He evidently fears discovery or interference, in the state of helplessness in which he must be -- confined as he is between dawn and sunset in his wooden box.

How is he to be taken? -- Here a process of exclusions may help us. By road, by rail, by water?

By Road. -- There are endless difficulties, especially in leaving the city.

There are people; and people are curious, and investigate. A hint, a surmise, a doubt as to what might be in the box, would destroy him.

There are, or there may be, customs and octroi officers to pass.

His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear; and in order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so far as he can, even his victim -- me!

By Rail. -- There is no one in charge of the box. It would have to take its chance of being delayed; and delay would be fatal, with enemies on the track. True, he might escape at night; but what would he be, if left in a strange place with no refuge that he could fly to? This is not what he intends; and he does not mean to risk it.

By Water. -- Here is the safest way, in one respect, but with most danger in another. On the water he is powerless except at night; even then he can only summon fog and storm and snow and his wolves. But were he wrecked, the living water would engulf him, helpless; and he would indeed be lost. He could have the vessel drive to land; but if it were unfriendly land, wherein he was not free to move, his position would still be desperate.

We know from the record that he was on the water; so what we have to do is to ascertain what water.

The first thing is to realise exactly what he has done as yet; we may, then, get a light on what his later task is to be.

Firstly. -- We must differentiate between what he did in London as part of his general plan of action, when he was pressed for moments and had to arrange as best he could.

Secondly we must see, as well as we can surmise it from the facts we know of, what he has done here.

As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz, and sent invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascertain his means of exit from England; his immediate and sole purpose then was to escape. The proof of this, is the letter of instructions sent to Immanuel Hildesheim to clear and take away the box before sunrise. There is also the instruction to Petrof Skinsky. These we must only guess at; but there must have been some letter or message, since Skinsky came to Hildesheim.

That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The Czarina Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey -- so much so that Captain Donelson's suspicions were aroused; but his superstition united with his canniness played the Count's game for him, and he ran with his favouring wind through fogs and all till he brought up blindfold at Galatz. That the Count's arrangements were well made, has been proved. Hildesheim cleared the box, took it off, and gave it to Skinsky. Skinsky took it -- and here we lose the trail. We only know that the box is somewhere on the water, moving along. The customs and the octroi, if there be any, have been avoided.

Now we come to what the Count must have done after his arrival -- on land, at Galatz.

The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise the Count could appear in his own form. Here, we ask why Skinsky was chosen at all to aid in the work? In my husband's diary, Skinsky is mentioned as dealing with the Slovaks who trade down the river to the port; and the man's remark, that the murder was the work of a Slovak, showed the general feeling against his class. The Count wanted isolation.

My surmise is, this: that in London the Count decided to get back to his castle by water, as the most safe and secret way. He was brought from the castle by Szgany, and probably they delivered their cargo to Slovaks who took the boxes to Varna, for there they were shipped for London. Thus the Count had knowledge of the persons who could arrange this service. When the box was on land, before sunrise or after sunset, he came out from his box, met Skinsky and instructed him what to do as to arranging the carriage of the box up some river. When this was done, and he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his traces, as he thought, by murdering his agent.

I have examined the map and find that the river most suitable for the Slovaks to have ascended is either the Pruth or the Sereth. I read in the typescript that in my trance I heard cows low and water swirling level with my ears and the creaking of wood. The Count in his box, then, was on a river in an open boat -- propelled probably either by oars or poles, for the banks are near and it is working against stream. There would be no such sound if floating down stream.

Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth, but we may possibly investigate further. Now of these two, the Pruth is the more easily navigated, but the Sereth is, at Fundu, joined by the Bistritza which runs up round the Borgo Pass. The loop it makes is manifestly as close to Dracula's castle as can be got by water.

When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms and kissed me. The others kept shaking me by both hands, and Dr. Van Helsing said:---

"Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her eyes have been where we were blinded. Now we are on the track once again, and this time we may succeed. Our enemy is at his most helpless; and if we can come on him by day, on the water, our task will be over. He has a start, but he is powerless to hasten, as he may not leave his box lest those who carry him may suspect; for them to suspect would be to prompt them to throw him in the stream where he perish. This he knows, and will not. Now men, to our Council of War; for, here and now, we must plan what each and all shall do."

"I shall get a steam launch and follow him," said Lord Godalming.

"And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land," said Mr. Morris.

"Good!" said the Professor, "both good. But neither must go alone. There must be force to overcome force if need be; the Slovak is strong and rough, and he carries rude arms." All the men smiled, for amongst them they carried a small arsenal. Said Mr. Morris:---

"I have brought some Winchesters; they are pretty handy in a crowd, and there may be wolves. The Count, if you remember, took some other precautions; he made some requisitions on others that Mrs. Harker could not quite hear or understand. We must be ready at all points." Dr. Seward said:---

"I think I had better go with Quincey. We have been accustomed to hunt together, and we two, well armed, will be a match for whatever may come along. You must not be alone, Art. It may be necessary to fight the Slovaks, and a chance thrust -- for I don't suppose these fellows carry guns -- would undo all our plans. There must be no chances, this time; we shall, not rest until the Count's head and body have been separated, and we are sure that he cannot re-incarnate." He looked at Jonathan as he spoke, and Jonathan looked at me. I could see that the poor dear was torn about in his mind. Of course he wanted to be with me; but then the boat service would, most likely, be the one which would destroy the ... the ... the ... Vampire. (Why did I hesitate to write the word?) He was silent awhile, and during his silence Dr. Van Helsing spoke:---

"Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons. First, because you are young and brave and can fight, and all energies may be needed at the last; and again that it is your right to destroy him -- that -- which has wrought such woe to you and yours. Be not afraid for Madam Mina; she will be my care, if I may. I am old. My legs are not so quick to run as once; and I am not used to ride so long or to pursue as need be, or to fight with lethal weapons. But I can be of other service; I can fight in other way. And I can die, if need be, as well as younger men. Now let me say that what I would is this: while you, my Lord Godalming and friend Jonathan go in your so swift little steamboat up the river, and whilst John and Quincey guard the bank where perchance he might be landed, I will take Madam Mina right into the heart of the enemy's country. Whilst the old fox is tied in his box, floating on the running stream whence he cannot escape to land -- where he dares not raise the lid of his coffin-box lest his Slovak carriers should in fear leave him to perish -- we shall go in the track where Jonathan went, -- from Bistritz over the Borgo, and find our way to the Castle of Dracula. Here, Madam Mina's hypnotic power will surely help, and we shall find our way -- all dark and unknown otherwise -- after the first sunrise when we are near that fateful place. There is much to be done, and other places to be made sanctify, so that that nest of vipers be obliterated." Here Jonathan interrupted him hotly:---

"Do you mean to say, Professor Van Helsing, that you would bring Mina, in her sad case and tainted as she is with that devil's illness, right into the jaws of his death-trap? Not for the world! Not for Heaven or Hell!" He became almost speechless for a minute, and then went on:---

"Do you know what the place is? Have you seen that awful den of hellish infamy -- with the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes, and every speck of dust that whirls in the wind a devouring monster in embryo? Have you felt the Vampire's lips upon your throat?" Here he turned to me, and as his eyes lit on my forehead he threw up his arms with a cry: "Oh, my God, what have we done to have this terror upon us!" and he sank down on the sofa in a collapse of misery. The Professor's voice, as he spoke in clear, sweet tones, which seemed to vibrate in the air, calmed us all:---

"Oh, my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina from that awful place that I would go. God forbid that I should take her into that place. There is work -- wild work -- to be done there, that her eyes may not see. We men here, all save Jonathan, have seen with their own eyes what is to be done before that place can be purify. Remember that we are in terrible straits. If the Count escape us this time -- and he is strong and subtle and cunning -- he may choose to sleep him for a century, and then in time our dear one" -- he took my hand -- "would come to him to keep him company, and would be as those others that you, Jonathan, saw. You have told us of their gloating lips; you heard their ribald laugh as they clutched the moving bag that the Count threw to them. You shudder; and well may it be. Forgive me that I make you so much pain, but it is necessary. My friend, is it not a dire need for the which I am giving, possibly my life? If it were that any one went into that place to stay, it is I who would have to go to keep them company."

"Do as you will," said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him all over, "we are in the hands of God!"

#dracula #draculalive #vampires

2 notes · View notes

knovesstorytelling · 3 years

Text

Murray Mysteries S1E2 Transcript

Episode 2. The Bachelorette

Written By May Toudic

Mina: Welcome to Murray Mysteries.

[Theme music plays.]

Mina: Hello, from Lucy’s shockingly normal hometown! We got here a few days ago and I’ve been going on walks every day to see the sights. This place is like, quaint bingo. There’s old stone buildings, a harbour with little fishing boats, some cliffs with the sea on one side and a beautiful green valley on the other. I can’t decide if I should go staring longingly into the waves like a Gothic heroine or trailing through the fields like Maria in The Sound of Music. Actually, if uh people could leave suggestions on really cliche things to do around here, I’ll try them all and report on their real-life viability. Rate them on a scale from “Impossible” to “Felt like an actual character and will do it every day for the rest of my super-nerdy life.”

Mina: So far, I’ve mostly been sitting outside with a book and chatting with the locals. They’ve a lot to tell about the history of the place and local legends. But, I promised you more interesting tales than that of my tourist adventures. In fact, there is a pretty juicy reason why I’ve been out on my own so much.

Mina (calling): Lucy!

[The door opens.]

Lucy (drawling): Uhh, yes dear?

Mina: Uh, tell the viewers why you’ve been cruelly abandoning me lately?

[The door closes.]

Lucy: Are you really going to publicly shame me because I don’t feel like going on one of your creepy church tours?

[As Mina speaks, there are footsteps and rustling.]

Mina: That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.

[A pause.]

Lucy: Fine. I’ve been busy.

Mina: And might I ask, what, or rather who is keeping you so busy?

Lucy: I— I think it’s whom in this context.

[Mina giggles.]

Mina: Lucy.

Lucy: There’s been a few people.

Mina: So, the Bachelorette here has been keeping three suitors on the backburner while she’s away. Who of course all know each other, otherwise it’s no fun. How do you even find that many people to date?

Lucy: I don’t know, it’s a small town! It just happens! They were all great and I thought that some of them would just fizzle out and I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Mina: Mhmm. And what happened instead?

Lucy (mumbling): They all waited until I got back.

Mina: Louder please, for everyone in the back.

Lucy: They all waited until I got back to have “The Talk.”

Mina: Uh-huh, yeah. And say, what does one do when three different people ask them to go steady?

Lucy: I’m pretty sure no one’s used the words “Go steady”—

[Mina chortles.]

Lucy: —since the fifties.

Mina: Don’t try to distract me, I am immune to distraction.

Lucy: Uh-huh. Alright. I handled it like an adult.

Mina: And how is that exactly?

Lucy: Well Jane Seward was the first to ask—

Mina: Hold on, hold on. You’ve got to picture the scene.

[Lucy groans.]

Mina: Right, picture this.

Mina (pretending to be a reality show narrator): Bachelorette Lucy stands outside the mansion In a glamorous ball gown. The ground is covered in candles and flower petals. In her hand, a single rose.

Lucy: We were in a Starbucks. But I appreciate the dramatization, it’s very me.

{Mina hums in agreement during the end of the line.]

Mina: Why thank you.

[Lucy laughs.]

Mina: Now, get in character.

Lucy: Oh.

Mina (back to narrating): Enter Doctor Jane Seward, clinic psychiatrist, first and youngest female director of the local mental health institution. Smart, well-off, very good forehead.

[Lucy laughs.]

Mina: Great candidate. A little awkward, but in a charming way only truly intelligent people can pull off. She and Lucy met at a posh town function her mum was organizing. They spent the whole time having an extremely stimulating conversation, Lucy refuses to give me details of.

[Lucy giggles.]

Mina: And have been in contact ever since. Dr. Seward advances with a brain full of smart stuff and a heart full of hope. Off to you, Bachelorette.

[Lucy snorts but quickly composes herself.]

Lucy: Jane was so sweet. She said that I was good for her, that I made her a better, more balanced person, she really cared about me and damn it, I almost said yes. I mean, gave her the rose.

Mina: But you didn’t.

Lucy: To be completely honest, I already knew who I wanted to be with. So, I told her that and she said she hoped I would be happy, which is really unfair because I’m clearly the dick in this scenario.

Mina: What a woman.

Lucy: That point, I thought “Okay.”

[Mina giggles.]

Lucy: Wasn’t great, but at least I know what I want and I can go and get it. But that’s when Quincey showed up.

Mina: Quincey Morris enters the shot. Young, hot, adventurous, charming. American. You could fold laundry on those abs, and that accent—

[Both groan.]

Mina: Quincey is on a gap year, travelling the world with nothing but a backpack and a six pack.

[Lucy hums.]

Mina: And happened to stumble upon Lucy’s hometown. And her Tinder profile.

Lucy (whispering): Yeah.

Mina: Understandably, she couldn’t resist. They went on a few dates the last time she was in town and, of course, kept in touch through mostly half-naked pictures.

Lucy: I’m gonna miss those abs.

Mina: Poor, hot Quincey.

Lucy: Don’t make it worse, I already feel horrible! He came to me saying he knew he wasn’t—

Mina: Wait, wait, no, no no you have to do the voice.

Lucy: I’m not doing the voice.

Mina: Fine! I’ll do it.

[Mina clears her throat.]

Mina (in an awful Southern USA impression): Lucy, my dear.

[Lucy laughs.]

Mina (continuing the impression): I know I ain’t good enough to shine your shoes. But then again, no one is. What’d you say we go on the road and we don’t turn back for nothing?

Lucy (still laughing): That is terrible! That’s not how he talks at all!

Mina: You wouldn’t do the voice! So I had to improvise.

[Lucy groans.]

Lucy: So, after he asked me like a normal person. I told him it sounded wonderful, but I couldn’t just leave my whole life behind to travel the world. And then he said, we didn’t have to travel the world. He’d just settle down if it meant he got to be with me.

Mina: Wow.

Lucy: Yeah, it was kind of intense. And kind of lovely. Oh, I wish I could just keep dating them all. Stupid monogamous tendencies. I told him the truth, in the end. He looked so sad. But he said I shouldn’t worry about him and he would be fine and he was glad he met me anyway.

Mina: Seriously, where do you find these people?

Lucy: Yeah, I lucked out.

Mina: So, are you going to tell our eager listeners about suitor number three?

[Lucy chuckles.]

Lucy: They have a name you know.

Mina: Art Homewood. One of the sweetest, kindest, most loyal people on the planet. Art and Lucy met when they were ten.

Lucy: Mhmm.

Mina: Ten!

Lucy: Mmm.

Mina: Art was the new kid in town, just in from the US. And Lucy snapped them up on their first day of school before anyone else could claim them. They were really good friends throughout their childhood and teenage years, and of course, Art was pining away for her the entire time. After they both went their separate ways for university, Lucy realized she had feelings for them of the “more than friends” variety.

[Lucy chuckles.]

Mina: And was planning on telling them when they both got home for the holiday, but…

Lucy: They brought back their new girlfriend.

Mina: And thus left Lucy with nothing but regrets and a broken heart she tried to mend by dating other people.

Lucy: Eugh.

Mina: Until Art broke up with their girlfriend and the two of them finally reconnected. Now Bachelorette Lucy can finally be with the love of her life.

Lucy: And I’m supposed to be the drama queen.

Mina: Oh, come on! Your life is like a romcom, dating all these amazing people, only to end up with the one who’s been in front of your eyes all along.

Lucy: I guess it’s kind of romantic.

Mina: So there you go. After all this time, Art got the rose and the two of them blissfully rode away into the sunset, like pretty models in a stock picture. The end. And that, listeners, is why my friends are more interesting than me.

[Lucy snorts.]

Mina: See you next time, with something a little different. Mysterious, right?

Lucy: Yeah.

Mina: That was mysterious?

Lucy: Yeah that was mysterious, sure.

[Both laugh as the theme music fades in.]

Credits: Murray Mysteries is a Knoves Storytelling production. This episode was written and produced by May Toudic and features Drew Victorie as Mina Murray and Megan John as Lucy Westerna. Original music by Sophie K. Thank you for listening.

#mm transcripts

1 note · View note

draculalive · 5 years

Text

Dr. Seward's Diary.

26 September. -- Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather going on with the same record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business; and he had just started in the spider line also; so he had not been of any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy; so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened; and what is to be the end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. To-day he came back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o’clock, and thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand.

"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his arms.

I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant; but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it described small punctured wounds on their throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said.

"It is like poor Lucy's."

"And what do you make of it?"

"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer:---

"That is true indirectly, but not directly."

"How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to take his seriousness lightly -- for, after all, four days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing anxiety does help to restore one's spirits -- but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.

"Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture."

"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of; not after all the hints given, not only by events, but by me?"

"Of nervous prostration following on great loss or waste of blood."

"And how the blood lost or waste?" I shook my head. He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on:---

"You are clever man, friend John; you reason well, and your wit is bold; but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men's eyes, because they know -- or think they know -- some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new; and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young -- like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in materialisation. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism -- -- "

"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." He smiled as he went on: "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great Charcot -- alas that he is no more! -- into the very soul of the patient that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me -- for I am student of the brain -- how you accept the hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done to-day in electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very men who discovered electricity -- who would themselves not so long before have been burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and 'Old Parr' one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could have save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins; how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them, and then -- and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?"

"Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat; and that such a thing is here in London in the nineteenth century?" He waved his hand for silence, and went on:---

"Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of men; why the elephant goes on and on till he have seen dynasties; and why the parrot never die only of bite of cat or dog or other complaint? Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are some few who live on always if they be permit; that there are men and women who cannot die? We all know -- because science has vouched for the fact -- that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?" Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered; he so crowded on my mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam; but he used then to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of thought in mind all the time. But now I was without this help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said:---

"Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in my mind from point to point as a mad man, and not a sane one, follows an idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a mist, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without knowing where I am going."

"That is good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you. My thesis is this: I want you to believe."

"To believe what?"

"To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard once of an American who so defined faith: ‘that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.’ For one, I follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check the rush of a big truth, like a small rock does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value him; but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in the universe."

"Then you want me not to let some previous conviction injure the receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read your lesson aright?"

"Ah, you are my favourite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's throats were made by the same that made the hole in Miss Lucy?"

"I suppose so." He stood up and said solemnly:---

"Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! but alas! no. It is worse, far, far worse."

"In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried.

He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke:---

"They were made by Miss Lucy!"

For a while sheer anger mastered me; it was as if he had during her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard and rose up as I said to him:---

"Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?" He raised his head and looked at me, and somehow the tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" he said. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this. Oh, my friend, why, think you, did I go so far round, why take so long to tell you so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and have hated you all my life? Was it because I wished to give you pain? Was it that I wanted, now so late, revenge for that time when you saved my life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!"

"Forgive me," said I. He went on:---

"My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle in the breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet lady. But even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so hard to accept at once any abstract truth, that we may doubt such to be possible when we have always believed the 'no' of it; it is more hard still to accept so sad a concrete truth, and of such a one as Miss Lucy. To-night I go to prove it. Dare you come with me?"

This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth; Byron excepted from the category, jealousy.

"And prove the very truth he most abhorred." He saw my hesitation, and spoke:---

"The logic is simple, no madman's logic this time, jumping from tussock to tussock in a misty bog. If it be not true, then proof will be relief; at worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread; yet very dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of belief. Come, I tell you what I propose: first, that we go off now and see that child in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the North Hospital, where the papers say the child is, is friend of mine, and I think of yours since you were in class at Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he will not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we wish to learn. And then -- -- "

"And then?" He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then we spend the night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies. This is the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin-man to give to Arthur." My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some fearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I plucked up what heart I could and said that we had better hasten, as the afternoon was passing...

We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some food, and altogether was going on well. Dr. Vincent took the bandage from its throat, and showed us the punctures. There was no mistaking the similarity to those which had been on Lucy's throat. They were smaller, and the edges looked fresher; that was all. We asked Vincent to what he attributed them, and he replied that it must have been a bite of some animal, perhaps a rat; but, for his own part, he was inclined to think that it was one of the bats which are so numerous on the northern heights of London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, "there may be some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species. Some sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape; or even from the Zoölogical Gardens a young one may have got loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These things do occur, you know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and was, I believe, traced up in this direction. For a week after, the children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath and in every alley in the place until this ‘bloofer lady’ scare came along, since when it has been quite a gala-time with them. Even this poor little mite, when he woke up to-day, asked the nurse if he might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to go, he said he wanted to play with the ‘bloofer lady.’”

"I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the child home you will caution its parents to keep strict watch over it. These fancies to stray are most dangerous; and if the child were to remain out another night, it would probably be fatal. But in any case I suppose you will not let it away for some days?"

"Certainly not, not for a week at least; longer if the wound is not healed."

Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned on, and the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing saw how dark it was, he said:---

"There is no hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come, let us seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on our way."

We dined at "Jack Straw's Castle" along with a little crowd of bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten o’clock we started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the scattered lamps made the darkness greater when we were once outside their individual radius. The Professor had evidently noted the road we were to go, for he went on unhesitatingly; but, as for me, I was in quite a mixup as to locality. As we went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till at last we were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of horse police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the wall of the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some little difficulty -- for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so strange to us -- we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took the key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely, but quite unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a delicious irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving preference on such a ghastly occasion. My companion followed me quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after carefully ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring, one. In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he fumbled in his bag, and taking out a matchbox and a piece of candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the day-time, and when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome enough; but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers hung lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to browns; when the spider and the beetle had resumed their accustomed dominance; when time-discoloured stone, and dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer of a candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could have been imagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life -- animal life -- was not the only thing which could pass away.

Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding it that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as they touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin. Another search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced." Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally lifted off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The sight was almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much an affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped off her clothing in her sleep whilst living; I actually took hold of his hand to stop him. He only said: "You shall see," and again fumbling in his bag, took out a tiny fret-saw. Striking the turnscrew through the lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse. We doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become accustomed to such things, and I drew back towards the door. But the Professor never stopped for a moment; he sawed down a couple of feet along one side of the lead coffin, and then across, and down the other side. Taking the edge of the loose flange, he bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and holding up the candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look.

I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty.

It was certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock, but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his task. "Are you satisfied now, friend John?" he asked.

I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake within me as I answered him:---

"I am satisfied that Lucy's body is not in that coffin; but that only proves one thing."

"And what is that, friend John?"

"That it is not there."

"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do you -- how can you -- account for it not being there?"

"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the undertaker's people may have stolen it." I felt that I was speaking folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I could suggest. The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said, "we must have more proof. Come with me."

He put on the coffin-lid again, gathered up all his things and placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the candle also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind us he closed the door and locked it. He handed me the key, saying: "Will you keep it? You had better be assured." I laughed -- it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to say -- as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said; "there may be duplicates; and anyhow it is not difficult to pick a lock of that kind." He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch at the other. I took up my place behind a yew-tree, and I saw his dark figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it from my sight.

It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my place I heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came one and two. I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the Professor for taking me on such an errand and with myself for coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observant, and not sleepy enough to betray my trust so altogether I had a dreary, miserable time.

Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a white streak, moving between two dark yew-trees at the side of the churchyard farthest from the tomb; at the same time a dark mass moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and hurriedly went towards it. Then I too moved; but I had to go round headstones and railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far off an early cock crew. A little way off, beyond a line of scattered juniper-trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white, dim figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was hidden by trees, and I could not see where the figure disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I had first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he held it out to me, and said:---

"Are you satisfied now?"

"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.

"Do you not see the child?"

"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it wounded?" I asked.

"We shall see," said the Professor, and with one impulse we took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping child.

When we had got some little distance away, we went into a clump of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's throat. It was without a scratch or scar of any kind.

"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.

"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.

We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and so consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police-station we should have to give some account of our movements during the night; at least, we should have had to make some statement as to how we had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we would take it to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find it; we would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell out well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's heavy tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and watched until he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away silently. By good chance we got a cab near the "Spaniards," and drove to town.

I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a few hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He insists that I shall go with him on another expedition.

#dracula #draculalive #vampires

3 notes · View notes

draculalive · 5 years

Text

Dr. Seward's Diary.

28 October. -- When the telegram came announcing the arrival in Galatz I do not think it was such a shock to any of us as might have been expected. True, we did not know whence, or how, or when, the bolt would come; but I think we all expected that something strange would happen. The delay of arrival at Varna made us individually satisfied that things would not be just as we had expected; we only waited to learn where the change would occur. None the less, however, was it a surprise. I suppose that nature works on such a hopeful basis that we believe against ourselves that things will be as they ought to be, not as we should know that they will be. Transcendentalism is a beacon to the angels, even if it be a will-o'-the-wisp to man. It was an odd experience and we all took it differently. Van Helsing raised his hand over his head for a moment, as though in remonstrance with the Almighty; but he said not a word, and in a few seconds stood up with his face sternly set. Lord Godalming grew very pale, and sat breathing heavily. I was myself half stunned and looked in wonder at one after another. Quincey Morris tightened his belt with that quick movement which I knew so well; in our old wandering days it meant "action." Mrs. Harker grew ghastly white, so that the scar on her forehead seemed to burn, but she folded her hands meekly and looked up in prayer. Harker smiled -- actually smiled -- the dark, bitter smile of one who is without hope; but at the same time his action belied his words, for his hands instinctively sought the hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested there. "When does the next train start for Galatz?" said Van Helsing to us generally.

“At 6:30 to-morrow morning!" We all started, for the answer came from Mrs. Harker.

“How on earth do you know?" said Art.

“You forget -- or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does and so does Dr. Van Helsing -- that I am the train fiend. At home in Exeter I always used to make up the time-tables, so as to be helpful to my husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I always make a study of the time-tables now. I knew that if anything were to take us to Castle Dracula we should go by Galatz, or at any rate through Bucharest, so I learned the times very carefully. Unhappily there are not many to learn, as the only train to-morrow leaves as I say."

“Wonderful woman!" murmured the Professor.

“Can't we get a special?" asked Lord Godalming. Van Helsing shook his head: "I fear not. This land is very different from yours or mine; even if we did have a special, it would probably not arrive as soon as our regular train. Moreover, we have something to prepare. We must think. Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the train and get the tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to go in the morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of the ship and get from him letters to the agent in Galatz, with authority to make search the ship just as it was here. Morris Quincey, you see the Vice-Consul, and get his aid with his fellow in Galatz and all he can do to make our way smooth, so that no times be lost when over the Danube. John will stay with Madam Mina and me, and we shall consult. For so if time be long you may be delayed; and it will not matter when the sun set, since I am here with Madam to make report."

“And I," said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old self than she had been for many a long day, "shall try to be of use in all ways, and shall think and write for you as I used to do. Something is shifting from me in some strange way, and I feel freer than I have been of late!" The three younger men looked happier at the moment as they seemed to realise the significance of her words; but Van Helsing and I, turning to each other, met each a grave and troubled glance. We said nothing at the time, however.

When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Helsing asked Mrs. Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find him the part of Harker's journal at the Castle. She went away to get it; when the door was shut upon her he said to me:---

“We mean the same! speak out!"

“There is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick, for it may deceive us."

“Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the manuscript?"

“No!" said I, "unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing me alone."

“You are in part right, friend John, but only in part. I want to tell you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking a great -- a terrible -- risk; but I believe it is right. In the moment when Madam Mina said those words that arrest both our understanding, an inspiration came to me. In the trance of three days ago the Count sent her his spirit to read her mind; or more like he took her to see him in his earth-box in the ship with water rushing, just as it go free at rise and set of sun. He learn then that we are here; for she have more to tell in her open life with eyes to see and ears to hear than he, shut, as he is, in his coffin-box. Now he make his most effort to escape us. At present he want her not.

“He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at his call; but he cut her off -- take her, as he can do, out of his own power, that so she come not to him. Ah! there I have hope that our man-brains that have been of man so long and that have not lost the grace of God, will come higher than his child-brain that lie in his tomb for centuries, that grow not yet to our stature, and that do only work selfish and therefore small. Here comes Madam Mina; not a word to her of her trance! She know it not; and it would overwhelm her and make despair just when we want all her hope, all her courage; when most we want all her great brain which is trained like man's brain, but is of sweet woman and have a special power which the Count give her, and which he may not take away altogether -- though he think not so. Hush! let me speak, and you shall learn. Oh, John, my friend, we are in awful straits. I fear, as I never feared before. We can only trust the good God. Silence! here she comes!"

I thought that the Professor was going to break down and have hysterics, just as he had when Lucy died, but with a great effort he controlled himself and was at perfect nervous poise when Mrs. Harker tripped into the room, bright and happy-looking and, in the doing of work, seemingly forgetful of her misery. As she came in, she handed a number of sheets of typewriting to Van Helsing. He looked over them gravely, his face brightening up as he read. Then holding the pages between his finger and thumb he said:---

“Friend John, to you with so much of experience already -- and you, too, dear Madam Mina, that are young -- here is a lesson: do not fear ever to think. A half-thought has been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to let him loose his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to where that half-thought come from and I find that he be no half-thought at all; that be a whole thought, though so young that he is not yet strong to use his little wings. Nay, like the “Ugly Duck” of my friend Hans Andersen, he be no duck-thought at all, but a big swan-thought that sail nobly on big wings, when the time come for him to try them. See I read here what Jonathan have written:---

“That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again, brought his forces over The Great River into Turkey Land; who, when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again, though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could ultimately triumph."

“What does this tell us? Not much? no! The Count's child-thought see nothing; therefore he speak so free. Your man-thought see nothing; my man-thought see nothing, till just now. No! But there comes another word from some one who speak without thought because she, too, know not what it mean -- what it might mean. Just as there are elements which rest, yet when in nature's course they move on their way and they touch -- then pouf! and there comes a flash of light, heaven wide, that blind and kill and destroy some; but that show up all earth below for leagues and leagues. Is it not so? Well, I shall explain. To begin, have you ever study the philosophy of crime? ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ You, John, yes; for it is a study of insanity. You, no, Madam Mina; for crime touch you not -- not but once. Still, your mind works true, and argues not a particulari ad universale. There is this peculiarity in criminals. It is so constant, in all countries and at all times, that even police, who know not much from philosophy, come to know it empirically, that it is. That is to be empiric. The criminal always work at one crime -- that is the true criminal who seems predestinate to crime, and who will of none other. This criminal has not full man-brain. He is clever and cunning and resourceful; but he be not of man-stature as to brain. He be of child-brain in much. Now this criminal of ours is predestinate to crime also; he, too, have child-brain, and it is of the child to do what he have done. The little bird, the little fish, the little animal learn not by principle, but empirically; and when he learn to do, then there is to him the ground to start from to do more. ‘Dos pou sto,’ said Archimedes. ‘Give me a fulcrum, and I shall move the world!’ To do once, is the fulcrum whereby child-brain become man-brain; and until he have the purpose to do more, he continue to do the same again every time, just as he have done before! Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes are opened, and that to you the lightning flash show all the leagues," for Mrs. Harker began to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled. He went on:---

“Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of science what you see with those so bright eyes." He took her hand and held it whilst she spoke. His finger and thumb closed on her pulse, as I thought instinctively and unconsciously, as she spoke:---

“The Count is a criminal and of criminal type. Nordau and Lombroso would so classify him, and quâ criminal he is of imperfectly formed mind. Thus, in a difficulty he has to seek resource in habit. His past is a clue, and the one page of it that we know -- and that from his own lips -- tells that once before, when in what Mr. Morris would call a ‘tight place,’ he went back to his own country from the land he had tried to invade, and thence, without losing purpose, prepared himself for a new effort. He came again better equipped for his work; and won. So he came to London to invade a new land. He was beaten, and when all hope of success was lost, and his existence in danger, he fled back over the sea to his home; just as formerly he had fled back over the Danube from Turkey Land."

“Good, good! oh, you so clever lady!" said Van Helsing, enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A moment later he said to me, as calmly as though we had been having a sick-room consultation:---

“Seventy-two only; and in all this excitement. I have hope." Turning to her again, he said with keen expectation:---

“But go on. Go on! there is more to tell if you will. Be not afraid; John and I know. I do in any case, and shall tell you if you are right. Speak, without fear!"

“I will try to; but you will forgive me if I seem egotistical."

“Nay! fear not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that we think."

“Then, as he is criminal he is selfish; and as his intellect is small and his action is based on selfishness, he confines himself to one purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he fled back over the Danube, leaving his forces to be cut to pieces, so now he is intent on being safe, careless of all. So his own selfishness frees my soul somewhat from the terrible power which he acquired over me on that dreadful night. I felt it! Oh, I felt it! Thank God, for His great mercy! My soul is freer than it has been since that awful hour; and all that haunts me is a fear lest in some trance or dream he may have used my knowledge for his ends." The Professor stood up:---

“He has so used your mind; and by it he has left us here in Varna, whilst the ship that carried him rushed through enveloping fog up to Galatz, where, doubtless, he had made preparation for escaping from us. But his child-mind only saw so far; and it may be that, as ever is in God's Providence, the very thing that the evil-doer most reckoned on for his selfish good, turns out to be his chiefest harm. The hunter is taken in his own snare, as the great Psalmist says. For now that he think he is free from every trace of us all, and that he has escaped us with so many hours to him, then his selfish child-brain will whisper him to sleep. He think, too, that as he cut himself off from knowing your mind, there can be no knowledge of him to you; there is where he fail! That terrible baptism of blood which he give you makes you free to go to him in spirit, as you have as yet done in your times of freedom, when the sun rise and set. At such times you go by my volition and not by his; and this power to good of you and others, as you have won from your suffering at his hands. This is now all the more precious that he know it not, and to guard himself have even cut himself off from his knowledge of our where. We, however, are not selfish, and we believe that God is with us through all this blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall follow him; and we shall not flinch; even if we peril ourselves that we become like him. Friend John, this has been a great hour; and it have done much to advance us on our way. You must be scribe and write him all down, so that when the others return from their work you can give it to them; then they shall know as we do.”

And so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and Mrs. Harker has written with her typewriter all since she brought the MS. to us.

Dracula Live is brought to you by Wallachia. Read or listen to the ongoing vapmire serial. Vote on where the story goes.

#vampires #vanhelsing #dracula #draculalive

1 note · View note