Dracula: Endless Night

By Thomas Burchfield

Call him Dracula.

Conqueror by moonlight, bringer of storms, terrorist ruler of our dream world, Dracula has haunted the souls of readers and moviegoers for over a century, a monster for all seasons. Now, in a new adaptation originally conjured for the screen, the King of the Vampires becomes an avatar of untrammeled freedom and absolute supernatural power: a Superman of Evil.

Closely following Bram Stoker’s classic novel, while spinning its own dark and special magic, Dracula: Endless Night follows his ruthless quest for blood and power, stretching from the wilds of central Europe to the stormy coastline of Victorian England. Standing against him are a band of very human souls who, while locked in desperate battle with the Vampire King, struggle against their own sins and temptations. For while they stare into the monster's visage, they find themselves staring back.

Will they end Dracula’s reign of terror? Or will they be pulled forever into his evil dream world? Thomas Burchfield, the author of Dragon’s Ark, returns with another ripping tale of one of the great myths of human civilization, in a version that takes us into Dracula’s heart of darkness, into its endless night.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9780984775538

Thomas Burchfield

Thomas Burchfield was born in Peekskill, New York. His debut novel, the contemporary Dracula tale Dragon's Ark, won several awards in 2012. When not blogging on his "A Curious Man" webpage, he writes for such publications as Bright Lights Film Journal, Filmfax and The Strand. He lives in Northern California with his wife, Elizabeth.

Book preview

A screen treatment inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula

by Thomas Burchfield

Other Books by Thomas Burchfield (published by Ambler House)

Novels

Dragon’s Ark (e-book and trade edition)

Butchertown (Coming in 2016 in e-book and trade edition)

Screenplays:

Whackers (e-book only)

The Uglies: A Crime Saga (e-book only)

Now Speaks the Devil (e-book only)

Copyright 1998 and 2016 by Thomas Burchfield. All rights reserved.

ISBN (e-book): 978-0-9847755-3-8

Published by Ambler House Publishing, 584 Vernon St., #1, Oakland, CA 94610

Published in association with Bookbaby.

Cover design by Cathi Stevenson/Book Cover Express

License Notes

Thank you for downloading this e-book. This book may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for anything but non-commercial purposes.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Dedication

FADE IN

Acknowledgments: Special thanks to my wife, Elizabeth, and the Berkeley Public Library.

DEDICATION: To Elizabeth, of course. And to Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee and Max Schreck. Wish you were here for this one.

Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you—Psalm 139:12

FADE IN

An eagle looks down from a stormy sky, its cold eyes hunting for a tiny shadow breaking from another shadow; debris kicked loose and rolling downhill; tiny heads bobbing in a woodland pond.

But the predator finds us instead, its eyes like needles through the heart.

We back away, across the road from where it perches on a broken old roadside, covered in cobwebs, teeming with dozens of spiders.

A big hulking horse-drawn carriage rumbles by on this rough country road that bumps and winds through the remote foothills of the Carpathian Mountains.

It is the late 1890s, far away in space and time, from everything we know.

The coach does duty as both passenger and goods wagon: Six passengers sit in perilous discomfort on barrels, boxes, surrounded by crates of chickens and ducks, barely hanging on as the coach rocks back and forth. They include a high-class Prostitute (or high class for this part of the world); a pair of local Businessman; and two Peasants, all of them rough and wise in the ways of their world.

Jon Harker is the outsider here. He’s a peacock among these pigeons, dressed in a crisply tailored English suit and Homburg; a boyish flower of the British Empire. Good-hearted and naïve, he bubbles with the thrill of his first trip abroad. Along with his luggage, he carries a touch of smugness about him as he tries to make friendly chatter with his fellow travelers.

"This is a bit crowded, Jon says. We have much bigger conveyances, much nicer roads! In England, I mean. You should build more railroads. I took the train to Bistritz. Our engineers could build you a line—"

The coach bangs through a deep rut, tossing Jon into the lap of the fille de joie. While he tries to regain his dignity, she cheerfully flirts with him, making him blush.

Sorry … my apologies… .

Next time it will cost you, she teases. Then she asks, You have a Frau, mein young Herr?

Uh … engaged, I guess, I mean, yes, I’m getting … here.

He anxiously flips open a cameo locket that hangs around his neck. Nestled inside is a small photograph of his fiancé, Mina Murray, her face both pretty and bold.

… married … getting married, Jon finishes.

Pretty, yes, the Prostitute sniffs. She playfully draws the back of her hand under his chin. Who knows? We may have to share a room at the end, no? She laughs again. Do not fret, mein Herr. We are far away from the world. Your secrets will stay in these hills.

But make sure you don’t, my friend, one of the Businessmen warns.

Jon gapes in embarrassment. Everyone breaks into guffaws as he primly places his hat over his lap.

Finally, the second Businessman, a plump, well-fed fellow, asks, Your destination, mein Herr?

I’m a solicitor. Visiting a nobleman. Vlad … Dracula?

A cold hush falls, a silence so smothering, we wonder if we’ve gone deaf as Jon shakes his head as though trying shake wax out of his ears. The passengers’ eyes turn hard and bitter with fear and loathing. Even the fille de joie withdraws, as does the color in her face.

Only slowly do the sounds of the world return: the rumbling of the carriage, the hoof beats of the horses.

You know him? Jon stammers. I understand he's an important chap. I hope I haven’t said anything… .

But the chill remains, their faces averted from him. One of the Peasants stops to give him the evil eye as he ducks under his hat brim.

His eyes squirming, Jon turns his gaze out the carriage window.

Outside, the pine forest rushes by, a rippling green wall with bursts of brown, gray and sunlight. Then, slowly, through the trees, grey light flickers as the foliage thins out. Now, it’s a forest of dead trees, trunks shorn of their leaves, only stumps remaining. The countryside opens up … .

Opens up into a vast gray and white desert, a rugged wasteland of dead trees, drained and stripped of life, not a speck of color anywhere, shrouded in a sterile, but mysterious mist. In the distance, above the desolate mist, mountain peaks rise, a cold blue wall.

Desert … . Jon turns to his companions for an explanation. My guide book doesn’t… .

But they won’t even look at him now. They’ve spurned him completely, as though he were already dead, as though they have gone to sleep in order to escape what might happen next. Even the fowl huddle quietly in their cages. They’ll not speak to him again.

Later that afternoon, the coach rolls into Lugos, a poor and tiny village on the edge of the creeping desert, whipped and worn by dust and sand. Once it was a farm community and waystation. Then, as the desert took over, it became just a waystation. And now… .

There are no children here, no young people; only the middle aged and the old, a pale and sullen people with handkerchiefs decorating their necks, like brightly colored collars.

The coach pulls up at the inn, a sagging two-story shack.

The last one off, Jon motions to the Driver to take down his huge trunk from the luggage rack.

Meanwhile, one of the Businessmen confers in whispers with the gimlet-eyed Innkeeper.

Jon turns to find himself eye to eye with the Innkeeper whose wife hovers behind. The Villagers gather around in a tense circle.

Your destination, Herr… ? the Innkeeper begins.

Harker. Jonathan Harker. Solicitor—

I do not care about your name, English. State your business.

Jon squares his shoulders: That’s confidential I’m … .

He blinks as silver light flashes in his eyes, reflected off a knife blade held by one of Villagers.

Jon tries to disarm the threat with a harmless but nervous smile.

Vlad Dracula, the Innkeeper sneers. Vlad Dracula.

Jon struggles to recover his wits: Uh … yes. Property. He's buying a house … in my country. England.

The Innkeeper tilts his head, his eyes widening with surprise. He translates for his fellows. The atmosphere changes as they murmur among themselves.

Then he is leaving? the Innkeeper asks with a smile both astonished and cautious. He nods, turning it over in his mind. Of course. What is left for him to take? He points at Jon.

"And you have come to take him away!" He turns to his friends, addressing them in Hungarian, then turns his eyes to heaven, raising his fists.

He is leaving us! For good!

The Villagers erupt in cheers. The Innkeeper, smiling with amused pity, slings his arm around Jon and walks him to the Inn as though he were a hero.

Later that afternoon, Jon is sitting in the Inn’s dining room enjoying a sumptuous meal at the end of a long table. Behind him, a large window opens out onto the desert. The Villagers lounge about, watching him eat with great and grinning curiosity.

The Prostitute sits alone in a corner, ignored.

As the Innkeeper’s Wife sets another plate in front of him, Jon waves it away.

Oh no! No more please!

The Innkeeper claps him on the shoulder: "Keep