The Gospel of Dracula
Special Thanks to Bram Stoker and Carl Laemmle Jr.
Dracula, King of the Vampires, Count of the Carpathian Mountain Range, servant of Lucifer, sits in his luxurious study, in his remote castle.
The castle, with dark bricks like charcoal, and twisted spires piercing the sky, sits on a cliff edge, overlooking a deserted beach. When Dracula sits in his study, he likes to keep the windows open. He wants to hear the waves crash against the obsidian rocks, and smell the salt water in the air.
The study is lined with bookshelves, stuffed with dozens of cracked leather volumes on all manner of subjects; poetry, history, biology, foreign languages, human anatomy and physiology, and The Occult. A life without books is an empty, hollow affair, and Dracula’s life has been long indeed, with more centuries sure to come.
But he does not read this night. He waits, sitting quietly in his leather armchair, eyes closed, breathing in the sea air, thinking of life, and death.
Count Dracula thinks every monster should have a castle, just like him. For how else could they get away from the mundane vermin who populate the planet? With their religious dogmas, and pitchforks, and simple minds. They do not know how to behave before their betters.
