My Vladislaus Dracula

By Teresa L. Jones

When the name Dracula is spoken, what image comes into your mind? Do you think of a bloodthirsty monster made up by an Irish story-teller who never stepped foot on Romanian soil? Or, do you think of a legendary fifteenth century hero of Romania who risked his life and fought courageously to take on the Ottoman empire to protect his land, his people, all of Europe, and all of Christianity?
Since the age of 13, Amelia Justine Kari had a quest. Her quest was to one day take a trip to the beautiful lands of Romania, in search of the truth behind the mysterys of the real Prince Dracula. Once on Romanian soil, Amelia would find other forces already at work in search of her.
Because of her career choice as a medical technician and her overwhelming fascination with the green eyed, black haired man called Prince Vladislaus Dracula, Amelia was always misunderstood.
But, what if Vlad Dracula was also misunderstood? What if the pamphlets and documents written about him, were only made up to control him, use his power, and condemn him to prison?
Amelia was determined to find the truth, but she'd have to search deep in her soul to find all the answers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 13, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452005713

Teresa L. Jones

Teresa L. Jones is the author of several literary accomplishments such as An Escape. She currently resides in Lake Park, Iowa with her husband and her two children. 

Book preview

AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Teresa L. Jones. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 4/6/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0571-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0573-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-0572-0 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010904075

Contents

Chapter I

UNFINISHED DREAMS

Chapter II

AMELIA KARI’S QUEST

Chapter III

AMELIA’S BIRTHDAY

Chapter IV

THE ORDER OF THE DRAGON

Chapter V

PRINCE OF WALLACHIA

Chapter VI

CARNAGE OF BLOOD/

THE ADULTERESS

Chapter VII

THE FLOWER’S GIFT/

EARLY RISING

Chapter VIII

THE SILENT ONE

Chapter IX

A STRUGGLE FOR SANITY

Chapter X

AWAKENINGS

Chapter XI

THE RESURRECTION

Introduction from the Author

I would like to introduce to you a man, a man who has been given many names over the years: Vlad III Dracula, Vlad Tepes, Vlad the Impaler, Vlad III Basarab, Prince of Wallachia, Voivode (an old Slavic word meaning prince) of Tara Romaneasca, and Dracula. But the name this man chose and honored for himself was Vladislaus Dracula.

When the name Dracula is said it insights different images for different people. The name may let your mind wander into the mythical creature of Bram Stoker’s book or it might give you visions of horror stories from things you may have read or heard about. But there is another side most people do not think of when the name Dracula is spoken.

The side I am referring to is the heroic side of Vlad Dracula that many have never known existed. Did you know that many believe Dracula was a hero? They believe that his actions were justified for the times he lived in. They believe that he was a strict ruler who prized honesty and loyalty above all else. They also believe that he risked his life many times to save his country and all of Europe from the oppression of the Ottoman Empire. These people also believe that the stories and pamphlets about him were only made up to damage his reputation so his arrest and imprisonment would be legitimized.

Vlad Dracula ruled over a principality in Romania called Wallachia during the fifteenth century. Romania at that time was made up of three principalities: Transylvania, which was the northern part of Romania and ruled by the Hungarians; Moldavia, which only took a small upper northeastern portion of Romania and was ruled by the Moldavians; and Wallachia, which was mostly the southern bottom half of Romania and was ruled by whoever was a descendant and able to conquer the throne at the time.

Wallachia was approximately the size of New York . This was a large area to rule over, control, and protect from many enemies. Dracula had to constantly be on guard. Most of his relatives wanted him dead so that they could take over the throne. Dracula also had to pay tributes to the Ottoman Empire. These tributes involved paying a monetary price along with giving up over five hundred young boys who had to be taken from his lands and given to the Ottoman Empire. This was a very hard choice to make over the years, considering it only increased the Ottoman Empire and decreased the Wallachians’ chances of raising a larger army to fight against anyone else.

Wallachia was in the direct path of the Ottoman Empire as one of the countries it needed to conquer in order to take over the rest of Europe. Dracula knew the plans of the Ottoman Empire. He knew the mind’s of their leader’s, Sultan Murad II, and later his son, Mehmed II. Dracula knew so much about the Ottoman Empire, because he had been a prisoner of theirs from the age of eleven until he was about seventeen years old. For those six years in a Turkish prison, he faced torture and death on a day-to-day basis; he learned their language, their customs, what they feared most, and what could possibly destroy them. But never in the time of his imprisonment did he submit to their religion of Islam. Once Dracula was freed from their grasp, he joined the Pope’s crusade and fought for Christianity against the Ottoman Empire. Dracula was said to have been a fierce fighter for Christianity. He also had an unyielding hatred for the Turks. How many men in history had been captured by the enemy, imprisoned and tortured for six years, and then were able to resist the brainwashing of their captors year after year and day after day? Not many. But Dracula was one of them. He was a strong-willed man. No one has ever disputed his willpower and strength. No one has ever disputed his cunningness and courage. But some have decided to condemn him for crimes that were written in documents, proven to be forgeries. Many have even gone so far as stating, these forged documents were historical evidence of his crimes.

When I read so many things on the internet I also couldn’t believe the discrepancies that were so obvious in a lot of information about Vlad Dracula. It was phenomenal to find every book, web site, and article I read at some point stated either 1) the documents could not be accurate, because of misinformation on years, names, numbers of impaled, and places, or 2) the documents were so far-fetched they were obviously only written to damage Vlad Dracula’s reputation. Then, after stating these inaccuracies, they still used these same documents to describe Vlad Dracula’s character instead of using any actual fact-based historical evidence.

I have been told, many historians are now currently identifying these inaccuracies and exaggerations of the facts regarding Vlad Dracula and also sifting through what could have only been made up as propaganda against him. Within time, maybe more historians will share the missing pieces that they are currently withholding from the public. There are also many documents and letters still being withheld in many monasteries all across Europe. After we gather all the truth, we just might be able to find clues as to who Vladislaus Dracula truly was, give him the fair trial he never received in his lifetime, and give him the honorable burial he so deserves.

In starting my journey into Vlad Dracula’s life, one thing I noticed in his letters was the way he signed his name. During the first and second reign of his life, he signed his name Vlad III, son of Vlad Dracul or Vlad Dracula, Prince of Wallachia. But after his imprisonment at Visegrad, he began signing his name Vladislaus Dracula. I was very curious about this change in signing his name and wondered what could have happened during those years he was imprisoned? With such strong a personality as he had, why was there also next to nothing written about his stay in Hungary? Many will continue to dispute how long Dracula’s imprisonment actually was at Visegrad. But as far as his character was concerned, when he was finally released, his overwhelming hatred for the Turks and his persistent passion to regain the throne of Wallachia was strengthened.

Vlad Dracula’s life story intrigued me so much that I had to find the answers to my questions, see for myself the lands he used to reign over, and find the truth to who this man really was. So I got on a plane and flew to Romania and Hungary for a fact-based tour.

While over in the beautiful country’s of Romania and Hungary, I learned a lot about the real man called Vlad Dracula. In some places, it seemed time had stood still. It was as if the worries of the world were gone. The atmosphere was so relaxing and comfortable. If I were to write about my trip, it would lead me into another book. So I will tell you that I learned more over there than any internet site or book could have provided for me. My research trip only lasted ten days, but it will never leave my soul.

What is also one of many odd things about Vlad Dracula’s story is that of the many documents and relics that were said to surround him, many have mysteriously disappeared or been stolen over the years. Who could possibly want to keep to themselves all the pictures, letters, and relics of this man for over five hundred years?

Even the original portrait, that was painted of him at Visegrad, Hungary, was stolen from the gallery in Innsbruck, Austria. It was replaced with a replica. This replica was painted possibly years later from an anonymous painter’s memory of the actual portrait. There are some who have even stated, they believe the anonymous painter gave him a Hapsburg lip because they thought he was Hungarian. Whatever the actual story is regarding Vlad Dracula’s features, how can we judge him by this portrait, and how do we know what he truly looked like?

There are many who will tell you Vlad Dracula still lives. They will tell you he walks among us all in the shadows, just as he did over five hundred years ago when he disguised himself, looking for thieves and dishonest people roaming throughout his lands. Some also say that no one will be able to find his body, because he never died. Regardless of the folktales, documents, web sites, and articles, Vladislaus Dracula had a most interesting, turbulent life and will always have, an ever-so-popular afterlife.

So throughout these pages, here it begins … My Vladislaus Dracula.

I hope you enjoy it.

Teresa L. Jones

Dedication and Thanks

I dedicate this book to my family.

To my husband. When I asked him, Hey, can you fly me over to Romania next month? he said, Anything you want, my lovely wife. Thank you. I love you, Daniel.

To my children. When told, Mom and Dad are going to Romania, they responded, We get the house to ourselves. All right! Sorry, not quite, my adorable children.

I thank my Mom and Dad, who willingly watched my children for many days and nights while my husband and I had a fantastic journey to Hungary and Romania.

I have posted pictures of my trip to Romania on MySpace. If you would like to see them please go to http://www.myspace.com/499376423.

Many thanks also go out to the help of:

The Hungarian tour:

To Katalin and Nelle Leimeiszter of [e-mail], our tour guides in Hungary with whom I rushed through many sites in one day to get everything in.

To Robert Zeller. Thank you for letting us into Visegrad after closing. It was a very important part of my trip and story.

The Romanian tour:

To Vlad Trestian, of Balkan Trails [e-mail], our tour guide in Romania. Thank you for your patience, your knowledge, your fantastic driving skills, your translations, and your intelligent conversations.

To Dani at Vlad Dracul house in Sighisoara, who showed us Vlad Dracul’s famous portrait along with telling us what he knew about Vladislaus Dracula’s turbulent life.

To all the monks, nuns, and helpers at Dealu, Tismana, and Snagov monasteries, with whom I spoke and who took time out of their days to talk with me. They were all so very kind and very helpful.

To Protosinghel Mihail Muscariu at the Comana Monastery, a kind man who along with sharing the historical knowledge of his monastery has also helped the children of the local villages around Comana.

To Walter Ghidibaca, for his many answers to my many questions. Great luck on the documentary.

To Delia Grigorescu, owner of www.exploringromania.com, a historian and believer in her country’s hero. Thank you my friend, for answering my many questions.

To Wade Lowery, for his computer skills.

To author Elizabeth Miller, for her answers to my many questions ([e-mail]).

To author Stefan Andreescu for writing the book Vlad the Impaler Dracula. I share with you the many views you have of Vlad Dracula.

To author M. J. Trow for writing Vlad the Impaler: In Search of the Real Dracula.

To author Kurt W. Treptow for his book Vlad III Dracula: The Life and Times of the Historical Dracula.

To authors Radu R. Florescu and Raymond T. McNally for their three books: Dracula: A Biography of Vlad the Impaler 1431–1476; In Search of Dracula: The History of Dracula and Vampires Completely Revised; and Dracula, Prince of Many Faces: His Life and His Times.

To Frank Langella, for his fantastic, artistic presentation of Count Dracula in the 1979 movie Dracula. This movie will always be one of my favorites.

To Bram Stoker. For without his book Dracula, we may never have learned of the real Romanian prince.

And finally, many thanks go out to the man and the legend, Vladislaus Dracula. He has led us all down that marvelous path into his astonishing, tumultuous, misunderstood life and has given us the chance to let our minds marvel into his unknown past, making this book one of the most enjoyable experiences in my life.

I thank you all for your inspiring knowledge and assistance.

Teresa L. Jones

Chapter I

UNFINISHED DREAMS

Amelia heard her alarm go off and knew, without even looking at her clock, it was 6:15 am. She yawned, hit the snooze button, and tried to get comfortable again so she could continue the dream she was having.

Okay, where were we? she said as she closed her eyes and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

Dracula was standing outside on her balcony, watching her through the sliding glass window. She wanted him to come in. His hand reached out to the handle on the glass door. As the door slid open, a cool breeze came in, blowing over Amelia’s hot skin. Dracula wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned down to his navel, revealing the tight muscles on his chest. His black cape was flowing around him as he stepped inside her bedroom. The string that held his cape around his neck was dangling down his chest. Dracula reached for the string and untied it with one hand. As he took a step forward to Amelia’s bed, his cape glided to the floor. He stared deeply into Amelia’s eyes. She could feel a warming sensation all over her body. Amelia watched him as he came closer to her. She twisted on her bed, wanting to feel his bare chest on hers. Their eyes were drawn to each other. Dracula tore off his shirt easily with one hand and threw it to the floor. He leaned toward her bed and reached out, grabbing the sheet that covered her legs. He tossed the sheet to the side and began to crawl on the bed, straddling Amelia’s body. He leaned over her body, smelling her stomach. She closed her eyes and could feel his hot breath on her skin, moving its way up to her chest. As his arms reached out, touching her shoulders, she arched her back. She could feel one of his hands sliding around her waist and up her back. He lifted her up in his strong arms, pulling her tightly to him. Her arms went around his muscular back. She could feel the warmth of his skin under her hands. His breath was heavy on her neck. Leaning her back on the bed, he came down on top of her. She could feel his chest on hers. She could feel his body rubbing up against her, and his lips kissing her shoulders. His lips gently made their way behind her ear and down the curve of her neck. Her stomach was tingling as an electric sensation went down her spine, making her back arch up to him once again. Amelia slid her hands over his powerful arms. He stared at her as she placed her hands on his face. His luscious lips parted as she pulled him down to kiss her.

Beep, beep, beep. The alarm clock went off and Amelia opened her eyes.

"What is the problem here? Amelia slammed her fists down on the bed. I haven’t had sex for almost two years, and you can’t even let me have a kiss in my dreams, she yelled at the alarm clock. She then leaned over and hit the snooze button again just to stop the beeping. Amelia did not want to get up and go to work. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her pillows just to feel the coolness of them under her arms. She then placed the pillows at the top of her bed, sat up, and threw off the covers. How nice of you, she said, leaning over to turn the alarm clock setting to off. Now you won’t bother me again. Amelia sat on the edge of her bed, trying to remember what Dracula looked like. All she could remember was his black hair and his red lips. What is it with dreams and not being able to clearly see the guy’s face?" She closed her eyes, trying hard to remember what Dracula’s entire face looked like. She knew everything that happened. She could remember the room and even the colors of the sheets and clothes he was wearing. She just couldn’t picture his face clearly in her mind.

Lucrecia was right; I have to get out more, she said as she got up from her dreamland of a bed. Amelia was dressed in her favorite jogging pants and a T-shirt. She looked out her window at the sun coming up over El Paso and shivered at the cool air coming from the register over the doorway to her room. She jumped out of bed and quietly opened her bedroom door. Tiptoeing out into the living room, she looked over at her roommate’s door. It was closed. She then went over to the thermostat and turned the air conditioning off. Amelia quickly ran back in her room, quietly shutting her bedroom door behind her. She walked into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

Amelia remembered watching her favorite movie last night before she went to bed. It was probably the seventy-sixth time she had seen her favorite Dracula movie. Remembering her favorite parts of the movie, she took her clothes off and got into the warm shower.

Those eyes, she thought, stepping out of the shower and grabbing her toothbrush off the sink. As she glanced in the large mirror on the wall, her blue eyes stared back at her. She began wondering why Count Dracula couldn’t see his reflection if he drank only living people’s blood. He didn’t go around drinking the blood from dead people, so why couldn’t he have a reflection? Amelia thought as she grabbed the toothpaste and glanced again in the mirror. She looked at her shoulder length blonde hair, which was now dripping water on the rug below her. Damn it, she said, jumping back in the shower and tossing the toothpaste over on the sink.

Amelia was very quick in the shower. After she brushed her teeth and washed her hair, she quickly rinsed off. Getting out of the shower, she wrapped her wet hair up in a towel and then wrapped another towel around her dripping body. She then ran out of her room and into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

Amelia tried to be quiet so she wouldn’t wake up her roommate. She took her vitamins from the cupboard, slowly opening and closing the cupboard doors. Her roommate, Lucrecia, was still asleep in the bedroom on the other side of the apartment. The two women lived in an upstairs apartment at a nice apartment complex in El Paso, Texas. They shared the spacious two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment with hardly any problems. The kitchen and living room were the center of the apartment, while the bedrooms were on each side. It was a beautiful place with a huge window in the living room overlooking the border of Mexico. The apartment worked out very well, considering that the two had almost no equal ground when it came to music. Amelia liked her light rock, and Lucrecia liked her head-splitting, ear-wrenching hard rock.

Amelia got out a box of cereal, a bowl, and a spoon. Leaning over, she poured her cereal into her bowl. Her towel fell off her head and landed just on the side of the bowl, spilling the cereal and bowl onto the floor. Amelia looked up quickly at the door to Lucrecia’s room. She quickly threw the towel over her shoulder and looked down at the bowl still swirling on the floor.

Ha. It didn’t break, she whispered as she picked up the bowl and set it back on the counter.

You better clean that up before you go, Lucrecia yelled out from her bedroom.

Can’t it wait till Sunday? Amelia yelled back, trying to wrap her wet hair back up in the towel.

No, Lucrecia yelled from behind her bedroom door. Girl, we just cleaned yesterday. What’s wrong with you?

It was like a tradition, for both women, to spend all day every Sunday cleaning the entire apartment from the windows to the floor. They were both happy with their apartment, their jobs, and their routines.

Amelia grabbed some papers off the counter, swept up the cereal onto them, and threw the cereal in the garbage under the sink.

You better not be using my script as your dustpan, Lucrecia yelled out again from her bedroom.

Amelia looked down at the paper she held in her hand. She wiped the script on her towel to get the crumbs off it. It was only cereal, she yelled. I didn’t pour the milk yet. Amelia then heard Lucrecia’s radio come on, and the sound of dying guitars began resounding through the apartment. Amelia poured some more cereal and milk into her bowl and took her daily dose of vitamins. After finishing her breakfast she went into her room, got dressed, grabbed her backpack, went back out into the kitchen, and grabbed a dish towel from the drawer. She stuffed it into her pack and was ready for work.

I’m going to see my parents today after work, Amelia yelled out as she stood at the top of the stairs ready to leave. She waited to hear some response from Lucrecia, but all she could hear was the sound of loud guitars and high, screeching yelling.

Amelia pounded on Lucrecia’s door.

I’m going to visit my parents after work, Amelia yelled again.

All right, Lucrecia yelled from behind her door.

Amelia went down to the bottom of the stairs and got her bike out from the closet. She pulled her backpack over her shoulders, locked the door to the apartment, and was off to work. Amelia got on her bike and rode out of the apartment complex and headed down the streets of El Paso. The hospital was only a couple of blocks away. She knew her town well, and today there wasn’t as much traffic as usual because of the holiday.

Amelia worked as a lab technician at a nearby hospital. She always rode her bike, rain or shine. It was mostly shine, of course. El Paso hardly ever had a rainy day.

Amelia had grown up in El Paso and loved it. After high school she had many other colleges to choose from, but she decided to stay in El Paso and attend the university for two years.

Arriving at the hospital, Amelia padlocked her bike to the rails outside. She walked up the stairs into the hospital and walked down the long hallway. She waved to the attendant on duty and took out her key to unlock the door to the break room. Once inside she put her pack in her locker and grabbed her name tag out of her pack and put it around her neck; then she put on her lab coat. She went back down another hallway and punched in for work. Amelia looked around the deserted lab, wondering how she had drawn the lucky straw this Memorial Day holiday to come in and clean.

She started her chores with the regular maintenance of the equipment. Then she looked in the refrigerators for the expiration dates on all the pints of stored blood. She checked each bag to make sure none had expired or looked discolored. As Amelia looked at the blood bags, she always thought it was interesting how the blood would separate after it sat for a while. The yellow plasma would always flow to the top of the collection bag, and the heavier red blood cells would always settle to the bottom of the collection bag. As she moved the blood bags side to side to look at the dates when the blood was donated, the separated red and yellow fluids began mixing in the bags. Amelia found only one bag that looked discolored. She then checked the log to see when each donation came in, making sure none of them were over six weeks old. The bag that was discolored wasn’t expired, but Amelia knew from experience that sometimes blood can go bad. She put a tag on the bag, making sure no one could use it, and then marked the bag for disposal. Amelia then moved on to the weekly administrative reports, cleaned the three refrigerators, and made sure all the temperatures remained at thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. She then went down the hall to the withdrawal room, making sure the room was stocked with tubes, gloves, bags, needles, alcohol swabs, and other medical supplies. Amelia went back down the hall toward the lab. All seemed fine and quiet as she saw two doctors coming down the hall toward her. They nodded their heads to Amelia as they passed her. This was an all-too-familiar sight. It seemed like the doctors always walked down the hall with each other as if they had some sort of buddy system for the hallway. Amelia was done with her job in less than four hours. She loved her work and knew she was good at it. At her locker, she put her smock away and grabbed her backpack. She then punched out, locked up the offices, and was off on her bike again to visit her parents. As she was bicycling through the streets of El Paso she remembered the first time she met her roommate.

Amelia had always wanted to be a phlebotomist from the time she was five years old. She had just started her first day practicing taking withdrawals and had gone through six people already. If they didn’t like getting their blood drawn before her, they still didn’t after they left Amelia that day. A red-haired woman and her child came in as Amelia threw the used items from her last withdrawal into the incinerator box. Amelia took the woman’s paperwork and asked her to sit down. She looked quickly at her paperwork and handed it to the lead lab technician, Diane, who was overseeing her withdrawals. The red-haired woman, according to her paperwork, was only thirty-two. Because the woman was overweight, she looked like she was forty. The woman’s little girl was also somewhat pudgy and seemed like she could do as she pleased anywhere. The little girl began taking the cotton swabs and throwing them at the wall. Diane asked the girl to stop because the items were needed for others and for her own mother. Then the little girl began to snap the extra tourniquet that was lying on the withdrawal chair next to her mother’s chair. Amelia was nervous and looked over the woman’s arms to see which vein might be better to work with.

They always take my right one, the red-haired woman said.

All right, Amelia said uneasily. Diane was watching the little girl, who was now looking through her mother’s purse. Amelia placed the tourniquet on the woman’s right arm. She watched as the veins were clearly seen pulsing under the skin. Amelia swabbed the inside of the elbow at the crevice in the woman’s arm. Taking the needle and tube in one hand, Amelia checked the woman’s fingertips with her other hand, to make sure the tourniquet was slowing down the blood. She then tapped the median cubital vein she was going to pierce. She stuck the needle into the woman’s skin and noticed the bruise occurring around the injection site.

The vein popped, Amelia said tensely to Diane.

All right. Take the needle out and try the other arm, Diane said, looking over Amelia’s shoulder.

What do you mean? the red-haired lady asked fearfully.

Well, Amelia said, sometimes the veins are fragile and can burst. If that happens we can’t use that vein and have to go to the other arm.

You broke it? the woman asked angrily. What’s wrong with you?

Diane told the woman that Amelia did not break the woman’s vein. She then went on to explain, that sometimes it just happens when the veins are weak. Amelia didn’t want to smile at the weak vein comment Diane had just made, so she continued with the same process on the woman’s other arm. Just as Amelia stuck the needle into the red-haired woman’s arm, an African American woman with loud hard-rock music blaring from her headphones walked in with paperwork in her hands. She was nicely dressed and wore very high heels. Amelia heard the red-haired woman cry out and her child came over to hold her mother’s hand. Amelia was getting so nervous she felt herself beginning to shake. She tried hard to quickly get the job done and wanted so much to be good at what she was doing. Amelia tried hard to understand how she could make it easier on someone. She didn’t like seeing anyone in pain. As she watched the tube filling up with blood, the red-haired woman started to move around.

I’m sorry, ma’am, but I am trying to get the next tube filled. You need two tubes filled and then we’ll be done, so please don’t move. Amelia tried to calm the woman down.

The woman looked like she was going to get up as Amelia watched the blood fill up the second tube.

Hold on, ma’am. You’re almost done. Diane stepped in, holding her hand up to the red-haired woman.

Amelia quickly took the needle out of the woman’s vein, and put a Band-Aid over the withdrawal site. The red-haired woman gave Amelia an evil stare as she picked up her purse. The woman’s daughter stuck out her tongue at Amelia and grabbed her papers from Diane. Both mother and daughter left the room quickly.

The African American woman in high heels asked Diane, who was still standing behind Amelia. Can I have someone else? No offense, girl. The woman held her hand up to Amelia. But I hate getting my blood drawn, she said apprehensively.

Amelia wanted to be the best she could at her job. She didn’t want people coming in and expecting to writhe around in pain. She wanted more practice, but she didn’t want anyone to be hurt by her or yell at her. Diane shook her head at the woman, took the woman’s papers, and then handed them to Amelia. The African American woman then put her headphones back over her ears. Amelia looked at the woman and motioned her over to the chair. As the woman sat down she closed her eyes and made fists with her hands.

I can’t watch this, she said anxiously.

Amelia put the tourniquet on the woman’s upper arm and then swabbed the area with an alcohol pad. She then gently unclosed the woman’s fist. The woman started to tap her foot nervously as Amelia tried so hard to be extra careful. She wanted to be fast and perfect. She took a deep breath and watched the vein very carefully. She noticed the color of the skin changing with the slowing of the blood. She pricked the skin quickly with the tip of the needle. It went directly into the vein. Amelia untied the tourniquet to get the blood flowing fast and the tube filled quickly. She then took the needle out and placed the Band-Aid on the woman’s arm right as the woman opened her eyes and looked up at Amelia.

You’re done? the woman said, taking her headphones off her ears.

Yep. Amelia smiled with satisfaction.

No way, girl, the woman said, trying to look under the Band-Aid to see if Amelia actually took her blood. You’re good. I didn’t feel it, the woman said, looking again at her arm. I hate getting my blood drawn. I absolutely hate it. And you, wow.

Thank you, Amelia said, handing the woman her papers.

How long have you been doing this? the woman asked.

Today is my first day, Amelia smiled. The woman’s mouth dropped open. She then looked at Diane, who was now behind the counter nodding at the African American woman.

You guys are so joking with me, the woman said, putting her hands on her hips.

Just today, and you were her eighth withdrawal, Diane said with her Texas drawl smiling at Amelia in recognition of a good job.

The woman started to laugh as she adjusted her earphones around her neck. She turned down the volume and then held out her hand to Amelia.

My name is Lucrecia, and it has been a pleasure to meet a talented person such as yourself. The two shook hands.

I’m Amelia; Amelia Justine Kari, she said.

Do you always say your middle name when you introduce yourself? Lucrecia asked.

Yep. Amelia couldn’t stop smiling. She was feeling the satisfaction of success.

Well, thank you so very much. Lucrecia smiled and then left with her papers.

Amelia turned to Diane.

You’re done for today. Fantastic job, Diane said, looking up at the clock. Amelia took her gloves off. She threw them in the box of things to be incinerated and took off her lab coat. She got her sign-off sheets from Diane and then turned and noticed Lucrecia had left her purse by the chair. Amelia picked it up and quickly ran down the hall. Lucrecia had her headphones on and screamed when she felt Amelia touch her shoulder. Amelia laughed as Lucrecia turned around smiling.

Hey, thanks. Lucrecia took her purse from Amelia. You hungry for dinner? she asked. I’m new here and I want to make some friends and find an apartment.

I’m always looking for new friends. It seems when they find out I live in a nice apartment complex with two bedrooms, one of which I don’t use, they get so jealous and end up not speaking to me anymore. Amelia smiled.

Oh girl, we are so going to get along, Lucrecia said as she put her hand on Amelia’s shoulder.

Amelia smiled, remembering those first encounters with Lucrecia as she rode on Memorial Pines Lane into New Mexico. The brakes on her bike began to squeak as she tried to get over onto the curb. It didn’t bother her that cars honked at her as they sped by; she was used to it. Amelia pedaled faster when she saw the sign for Memorial Pines Cemetery. She rode up to the row of graves where she could see her parents’ headstone towering over many others. She laid her bike down near the road and walked over to the grassy hill, took off her pack, and stood staring down at the headstone.

Hey Mom, Dad, she said as she bent down to pick some weeds out of the grass around her parents’ grave. Their headstone was arranged with two stone hearts, and in the center where the two hearts overlapped was her parents’ picture. Amelia remembered picking out the picture for their headstone. It was her favorite. She remembered her mother was wearing a dark purple shirt. But now the picture on the headstone was so faded from the sun’s constant rays beating down on it that her mother’s shirt was now pink in color. Her mother’s golden hair was long and fell down over her strong shoulders. Behind her mother was her father with his head resting on her mother’s shoulder. He had his white polo shirt on. His brown hair rest just above his eyes. Amelia stared at their picture, remembering how her father used to come up behind her mother and place his head on her mothers’ shoulders. Both looked as though they couldn’t ever be parted from that position. You guys, Amelia said, smiling at their picture. Mom and her accounting and Dad … you with your collars always standing straight up. You’d think as a doctor you would have put that collar down even under your scrubs. Amelia laughed as she stared at their picture on the headstone. She then grabbed the towel from her backpack and began to clean the dust-covered headstone.

I was just remembering how I met Lucrecia on the ride over here, she said, wiping off the headstone. I really wish you guys could have met her. She’s the best … I miss you guys, Amelia said as the tears started to well in her eyes. Sometimes I get so angry at you both for leaving me. But I know you loved me. I always knew that. I know you wanted everything to be so perfect for me. And now, I just don’t know what to do with my life. I got the job I’ve always wanted … and friends, an apartment that I absolutely love. But I miss you so much, Amelia stuttered, wiping the tears away that were now streaming down her face. She laid her head on the picture of her parents and held her arms around their headstone. You asked me one day, Dad, what I was ever going to do without you. I never wanted to say anything because it would mean that I knew what it would be like without you. Now where do I go from here? she said as the tears from her eyes slid down the tombstone and onto the grass below. I’m watering your grass for you guys, she wiped the tears off the tombstone and flicked the tears onto the ground. Hey Mom, remember that day I said I wanted to be a blood withdrawer? Do you remember when I said that? You told me after I scraped my knee that my blood was intelligent, Amelia turned around and leaned up against the sun-warmed stone, feeling the warmth on her back. You picked me up and put me on the counter and said to me, Do you realize that your blood is so smart that it can turn from the red liquid to new skin? I was so amazed at your speech. Sorry, Dad, but it was Mom who made me go into medicine. Amelia turned and smiled at her father’s picture. I remember that I thought the blood would all run out of me. You told me it would stop, and you kept telling me how smart my body was. I thought I was so special. You told me the blood was cleaning out my cut and helping to heal it right away. You gave me a banana, and as I ate it, we waited and watched my cut until it stopped bleeding. We talked for hours. Amelia looked down at her lap. I miss you, Mom. I really do. Amelia twisted the towel in her hands. I miss us talking and you telling me your stories, Amelia said, looking down at a small scar on her knee. The next day I woke up and there was the scab, ‘already to make me new skin,’ you said. You told me not to pick it because then the blood would have to work all over again to make more new skin. Do you realize how much that affected me? Of course you realize I picked the scab anyway. Amelia laughed. You knew how to tell the stories, Mom, but they had that version only you could twist into reality. You said the blood that dripped on the ground would only harden and die because it couldn’t talk to the cells in the rest of my body. Amelia held up her hands, remembering how her mother talked. You will see, you said to me. I was only six years old and already amazed at the way the blood worked."

Amelia sat for a while, watching the birds fly over her. She then began picking the taller grass around the headstone again. Then it was Dad who let me stay up late one night when I was thirteen. You had to have known that, Mom, Amelia looked at her mom’s picture. That was when I saw my first vampire movie on television. My all-time favorite movie. I watched it last night again. I had to get the DVD because the VHS I had was wearing out. Amelia covered her father’s picture on the headstone. Mom, I have to tell you. When Count Dracula and Lucy share each other’s blood and then he comes to save Lucy and breaks through the wall in the insane asylum and carries her away, that is the love I want. I dream about that all the time. That everlasting, stands through time, can’t live without that person that you and Dad had … still have. Amelia shook her head and took her hand off her father’s picture. Amelia placed her forehead on the tombstone and cried, What is this life all for without sharing your heart and soul with someone? You guys didn’t get to tell me those great life stories of falling in love over and over again with the same person like you told me you would before you left. You could have stayed home just once. Just that once. Amelia put her hands up on their picture again. You didn’t have to leave after my graduation. Amelia wiped her tears away. You could have stayed and helped me get rid of that creep of a boyfriend I had. If you would have stayed, you could be at home talking about work and another trip to Europe or Hawaii. I should have left with you. Why couldn’t I have been with you? Why did I stay here? What was here for me? Amelia wiped her eyes and noticed a van coming up the road near her bike. She got up and touched her parents’ picture again. I will try to find some reason why I’m here on this planet. I would give all your money back and work every single day just to have you guys here with me. Give me some sign where you want me to go? Please? Amelia begged. She looked up at the clear blue sky and then looked over at the van. Some people were talking as they got out of the van.

I will always miss you guys. I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. Amelia leaned over and kissed her parents’ picture.

She stood up, staring at her parents’ grave. She heard the voices coming from the people over by another grave and looked over at the fresh dirt neatly piled in a mound in front of a new headstone. Amelia stood there staring at her parents’ grave, remembering when she heard the news of her parents’ death almost five years ago.

She could remember how frustrated she was after just breaking up with her boyfriend. She wanted to fly to Italy to join her parents on their vacation. As she was about to leave for the airport, the telephone rang. A man with a heavy Italian accent began talking. Amelia remembered how frozen she felt. The man spoke softly and told her how he had known her parents for years, and how they were great friends. Amelia could remember the feeling of shock she felt as the man’s voice began sobbing on the other end of the phone. She remembered feeling sick, as he explained that her parents had taken a taxi to see the summer Umbria Jazz Festival in Perugia, when a semi was out of control and ran into their taxi, pinning their taxi between the semi and the cement wall under an overpass. She remembered how her heart raced as he went on telling her the taxi caught on fire, and both her parents were burned alive. The tears streamed down Amelia’s face as she looked over at the people now huddled around the fresh dirt mound before them. They were holding each other’s hands and crying, shaking their heads in disbelief at the headstone in front of them. Amelia remembered how she stood there, alone, in front of her parents’ headstone. She stood silent, not believing anything that had happened. Even years later, she felt as if it was all a bad dream and she could wake up any minute and there her parents would be, smiling in front of her. She turned away from the headstone. I’ll talk to you guys next month; maybe I’ll have some sort of life plan in mind. Amelia put the towel back in her pack, grabbed her bike, and left the cemetery. She rode the four miles back to her apartment, remembering how she had wanted her parents as close to where she was living as possible. She knew she chose the right place for them as she looked back at the nicely decorated cemetery on this Memorial Day.

When Amelia returned home, she put her bike in the closet at the bottom of the stairs.

Hey girl, Lucrecia yelled from the top of the stairs. How was your visit?

Amelia shrugged her shoulders as she held on to the handrail going up the stairs.

How’s the knee? Lucrecia yelled out from the kitchen. You want me to get your ice packs?

No, I’m fine, Amelia sat on the couch massaging her knee.

Are you sure you don’t want the packs? Lucrecia asked again. I’m right here, she said, shutting the refrigerator door. Why don’t you have surgery on that? You have insurance, and you certainly have enough money, Lucrecia asked, looking around the kitchen cupboards.

I’m never going to be put under the knife again. Amelia shook her head, stretching her legs.

Wasn’t that accident like when you were thirteen? Lucrecia asked.

Yeah, and I’ll never ever ride a horse again. Amelia turned on the television.

Tell me you are not going to watch another vampire movie? Don’t you get enough blood at work? Lucrecia asked, walking out of the living room and into her bedroom.

It’s not the blood, Amelia quietly said.

What? Lucrecia yelled from her room.

It’s not the blood, Amelia said again.

I’m not getting you, Amelia. Lucrecia came out of her bedroom and sat down in the chair next to the couch.

I don’t watch the vampire movies because of the sucking of the blood. Amelia clicked through the channels on the television. I watch them because of the connections they have.

You realize that those actors were being paid to act like that, even in 1979, Lucrecia whispered with a smirk. They had a script they read from.

Yes, I understand that. Amelia smiled. I’m just saying that there’s that connection between them. When he wants her to be with him forever because they were together in a past life hundreds of years ago and he’s been waiting and searching for her his whole longer-than-ever life, and she wants to be with him, only she can’t remember. Amelia shrugged her shoulders at Lucrecia and sat forward on the couch looking out the window. His face was so … familiar.

Whose face? Lucrecia asked.

Vlad Dracula’s, Amelia said. Even after my dad told me everything nasty Dracula had done, and it was pretty bad, I still stared at his picture so many times thinking he couldn’t have done such horrible things. Did you know that some Indian tribes used to slice their hands and then shake? Amelia opened her hands in front of her. To mix their blood so they could become blood brothers. Some even drank each other’s blood to form an unbreakable pack. Their drinking of blood wasn’t considered gross or evil but allowed them to fight side by side and to always have that bond, that allegiance to each other. Amelia stared at the television. That bond that Lucy and Count Dracula have in the movie is like that connection will always be there, that blood-mixing connection, and they would fight anyone and everything to be together forever. That —

I understand you, I really do. I get it, Lucrecia interrupted as she opened her diet soda.

Amelia knew her reasons for liking vampire movies were always misunderstood.

I can’t understand why you drink that, Amelia said jokingly, pointing to Lucrecia’s diet pop. That’s like flavored spit.

I can’t drink just plain old water like you. Lucrecia looked up