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Content warning. This

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episode contains racist language. Slurs

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have been changed, but the sentiment remains. Jonathan

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Harker's journal. Kept in

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shorthand. The 30th of

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June. Morning. These

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may be the last words I ever write in this

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diary.

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I slept till just before the dawn, and

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when I woke threw myself on my knees. For

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I determined that if death came,

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he should find me ready. At

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last I felt that subtle change in

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the air, and knew that the morning

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had come.

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Then came the welcome cock crow, and

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I felt that I was safe. With

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a glad heart I opened my door and ran down

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the hall. I had seen that

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the door was unlocked and now escape

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was before me. With hands

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that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked

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the chains and drew back the massive bolt. But

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the door would not move.

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Despair seized me. I

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pulled and pulled at the

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door and shook it till, massive

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as it was, it rattled in its casement.

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I could see the bolt

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shot. It

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had been locked after I left the count.

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Then a wild desire

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took me to obtain that key at any

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risk, and I determined then

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and there to scale the wall again and gain

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the count's room. He

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might kill me, but death

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now seemed the happier choice of evils.

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Without a pause I rushed up to the east window

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and scrambled down the wall as before, into the count's

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room. It was empty,

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but that was as I expected. I

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could not see a key anywhere,

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but the heap of gold remained.

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I went through the door in the corner and down the winding

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stair and along the dark passage to the old

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chapel.

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I knew now well

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enough where to find the monster I sought. The

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Great Box was in the same place, close against

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the wall, but the lid was laid on it, not

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fastened down but with the nails ready in their places

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to be hammered home. I

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knew I must reach the body for the key.

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So I raised the lid and

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laid it back against the wall, and

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then

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I saw something which filled my very

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soul with horror. There

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lay the Count, but

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looking as if his youth had been

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half

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renewed, for

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the white hair and moustache were changed to

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dark iron grey. The

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cheeks were fuller, and the white

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skin seemed ruby red underneath. The

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mouth was redder than ever, for

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on the lips were gouts of fresh blood,

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which trickled from the corners of the mouth

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and ran over the chin

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and neck.

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Even the deep, burning

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eye seemed set amongst swollen

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flesh, for the lids and

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pouches underneath were bloated. It

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seemed as if the whole awful creature was simply

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gorged with blood. He

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lay like a filthy leech exhausted

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with his repletion. I

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shut it as I bent over to touch

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him, and every sense

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in me revolted at the contact.

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But I had to search, or

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I was lost. The

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coming night might seem my own body

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a banquet in a similar way to those

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horrid three.

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I felt all

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over the body, but no sign could I find

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of the key. Then

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I stopped and looked at

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the count. There

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was a mocking smile on the bloated face

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which seemed to drive me mad. This

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was the being of the

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I was helping to transfer to London,

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where, perhaps for centuries to

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come, he might, amongst its teeming

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millions, satiate his lust for

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blood, and create a new

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and ever-widening circle of semi-demons

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to baton on the helpless.

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The very thought drove me mad.

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A terrible desire came upon me to

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rid the world of such a monster.

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There was no lethal weapon at hand, but

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I seized a shovel which the workmen had been

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using to fill the cases, and lifting

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it I struck with the edge

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downwards at the hateful face. But,

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as I did so,

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the head turned and

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the eyes fell full upon me, with

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all their blaze of basilisk horror.

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The sights seemed to paralyse me,

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and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced

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from the face, merely making a deep gash

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above the forehead. The

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shovel fell from my hand across the box, and

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as I pulled it away, the flange

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of the blade caught the edge of the lid which fell

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over again and hid the horrid thing

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from my sight.

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The last glimpse I had was of the bloated

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face,

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blood stained and fixed with a grin

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of malice, which would

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have held its own in the nethermost hell.

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I thought and thought what should

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be my next move, that

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my brain seemed on fire, and

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I waited with a despairing feeling growing

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over me.

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As I waited, I heard in the distance

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a Romani song, sung

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by merry voices coming closer, and

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through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking

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of whips. The

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Susgani and the Slovaks of whom the Count

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had spoken were coming, with

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a last look around and at the box which contained the

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vile body. I ran from the place

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and gained the Count's room, determined to

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rush out at the moment.

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the door should be opened. With

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strained ears I listened, and

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heard downstairs the grinding of the key

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in the great lock, and the falling

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back of the heavy door. There

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must have been some other means of entry,

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or

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someone had a key for one of the locked doors.

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Then, there came the sound of many feet

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tramping and dying away in some passage which

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sent up a clanging echo. I

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turned to run down again towards the vault,

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where I might find the new entrance. But

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at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of

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wind, and the door to the winding

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stair blew too with a shock that set

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the dust from the lintels flying.

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When I ran to

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push it open, I found that it was hopelessly

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fast. I was again a prisoner,

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and the net of doom was closing round me more

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closely.

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As

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I write, there is in the passage

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below a sound of many tramping feet, and

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the crash of weights being set down

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heavily. Doubtless the boxes

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with their freight of earth.

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There was a sound of hammering. It

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is the box being nailed down.

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Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping

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again along the hall, with many

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other idle feet coming behind them. The

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door is shut, and

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the chains rattle.

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There is a grinding of the key in the lock.

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I can hear the key withdraw.

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Then another door opens and shuts. I

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hear the creaking of lock and bolt. Hark!

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In the courtyard and down the rocky way, the roll

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of heavy wheels, the crack of whips,

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and the chorus of the sesgani as they pass into

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the distance. I

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am alone in the castle with those awful women.

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Mina is a woman, and there

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is naught in common. They

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are the devils of the pit.

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it.

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I shall not have remained alone with them. I

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shall try to scale the castle wall farther

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than I have yet attempted. I

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shall take some of the gold with me, lest

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I want it later. I

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may find a way from this dreadful place, and

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then wait for home. Wait

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to the quickest and nearest train, away from

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this cursed spot, from this cursed

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land, where the devil and his children still

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walk with earthly feet.

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At least God's mercy is better

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than that of these monsters, and

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the precipice is steep and high. At

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its foot, a man may sleep

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as a man.

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Goodbye, all. Me

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neither. You

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seem to be

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a muse,

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or has your voice

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grown up in smoke? You seem to be standing

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home with the fear of your mind enough

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to choke. You're great with your

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attention, just a dark stower

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too, and a story so horrific,

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you'll be glad it isn't

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true. There's a castle

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on a cliffside, filled to brim with death

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and sin, where the man arrived

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one stormy night and begged to be let

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in. Not the man in which you're thinking,

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but this prologue for the rest,

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or the thing that answered this man's

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cries was evil at its best. It's

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familiar like a nightmare that

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you've known you've had before, a

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deja vu that captures you and shows

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you to the core. A tale

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of woe, no way home of preachers

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of the night, you'd better fear the devil's bark,

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because he's a man. This Johnny boy he's gotta

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fight In

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my father's house the master in

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black said That our victim of

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the hour felt his heart fill up with drink

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He directs you with the plan he has devised

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You take no role, call the exit You're

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not living here alive It's

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familiar like a nightmare that

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you know you've had before A

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deja vu that captures you Chilled

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you to the core A tale

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of woe, no way home Of creatures

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of the night With your fear the

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devil's bark Is Johnny boy he's gotta

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fight Now

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you have been warned against the horrors

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yet to come You dare

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to still continue There'll be no plans

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for you So sit back relax

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Enjoy the show you've chosen to embark No

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matter what, be careful if you

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hit play after dark It's familiar

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like a nightmare that you know you've had before

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A deja vu that captures you Chilled

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you to the core A tale

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of woe, no way home Of creatures of

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the night With your fear the

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devil's bark Is Johnny boy

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he's gotta fight With

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your fear the devil's bark Is

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Johnny boy he's gotta fight Fight

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There

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was no relief or weapon at home

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But I seized a shovel

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which the workmen had been using to fill the cases,

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and lifting it I struck with

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the edge downwards at the hateful face.