Something Bloody Curses, Foiled Again: Something Series, #3

By S.D. Anderson

What can I tell you about Dracula that you don't already know? He is the most feared villain in history. It isn't his fault he's a vampire. He was born into it because of the

CURSE...
Can he change?  If so, how? 
Travel with Count Vladimir Rupert Pietro Rostislav Beatrice von Alucard and his servant, Sigfried (pronounced fried as in fried chicken), as they travel to Heaven and meet adorable angels and wise witches.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.D.Anderson
• Release date: Mar 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386638124

S.D. Anderson

Sharon D. Anderson, Ph.D., R.M.T., is an Indie Author/Publisher, dedicated to her craft for more than 30 years. Writing in her genre, Visionary Fiction and Non-Fiction, all of her books, websites and blogs merge a far-seeing perspective of New Age and Ancient Wisdom.  She is the founder of the Cape Cod Writers' Studio where she teaches professional self-publishing and supports writers and students on their paths to publishing in this digital age. She is a permanent resident of her beloved Cape Cod.

Book preview

SOMETHING BLOODY

Curses, Foiled Again!

By

S. D. Anderson

Copyright © 2017 Sharon D. Anderson, PhD

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, digital, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN:

ISBN:

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my Angels, who wrote it. I cannot blame anyone else.

They had such fun!

To my Grandchildren: Mark, Danny, Cameron, Stephanie, and Ale (all grown up now)

And to my Great Grands:

Chase and Mason, and Skylar and Walker

They keep me young.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my sister, Donna, who did the original editing.

Grateful thanks to the members of the Cape Cod Writer’s Studio, who were my line editors, my content editors, my beta readers, and supporters.

They all made it fit for young and new adult readers

Warning:

If You Are Squeamish and Cannot Stand the Sight of Blood, You May Not Want to Read This Story.

Bram Castle

The Carpathian Alps

Transylvania

800 or more years ago

A castle on top of a building Description generated with very high confidence

Chapter One

Allow me to introduce you to Count Vladimir, Rupert. Pietro, Rostislav, Beatrice von Dracula, now fifth in line for the Transylvanian throne. Two princes have been already assassinated during the last century

If you are squeamish and cannot stand the sight of blood, you may not want to read this story.

What can I tell you about Dracula that you don’t already know, or have read somewhere? What other information can I relate to you that you haven’t heard? He is probably the most hated and feared villain in all of history. Whenever he comes into view, people run away screaming for their lives. Others wear chains of garlic cloves around their necks, some people wear gold crosses, and some even travel with a large wooden stake in their pocket, in case they should meet him by chance. Just hearing his name evokes fear in the bravest of humans.

There are so many horrible pictures of him on the Internet and in books. Bad photos of him with a white face and fangs with red stuff on them (supposedly blood, but I think it’s only ketchup). He has appeared in lots of movies, and in Halloween costume shops all over the world. No one knows the real story of Dracula, where he came from or where he is now. It was so long ago, people told stories about him from their memories, or their grandmother’s or great aunt’s memories. Well, you know how memories and grandmothers and aunties can change stories. Especially if they are telling it on a dark, moonless Halloween night. No one really knows if Dracula is alive or not. That is for you to decide after you read this story.

He didn’t choose to be a vampire, he was born into it because someone had placed a curse on his family long before he was born, so he was one even as a small baby still in his cradle-casket. There was nothing he could do about it. As he grew older, he always wondered why he had pointed teeth, and why his toothbrushes were always losing their bristles. He also thought it was strange that he never drank white milk like all the other babies he met when his nanny took him for walks in the park. His milk was always bright red and tasted very sweet, like raspberries. He never had a nanny for very long, either. For some reason, they just disappeared. Once he thought he saw one of them turn into a bat and fly away, but his Mummie told him that was just a very bad dream and dried his tears gently so he would stop crying.

He had such happy memories of his parents. He remembered Mummie and Daddy were continually going out to parties at night. He always wanted to look just like his Daddy when he grew up. He thought his Daddy was so handsome in his black tuxedo, with his long evening cape lined with red satin. His Mummie looked beautiful, too, in her black silk dress glittering with sequins and black shiny beads. She always wore a diamond choker around her neck, a gift from Daddy, which she loved. Usually, when they came home, early in the morning before the sun was up, his Mummie would sit on the edge of his casket and read him stories, then tuck him in, wrapping the white satin quilts softly around him, so that he would fall asleep at once, and dream about flying.

He always wanted to fly, and when his nanny wasn’t looking, he would practice jumping off the edge of his casket, landing in the pillows, never quite getting the hang of it.

When he grew up into a bigger boy, about eight or nine years old, his Mummie and Daddy had a serious talk with him. They were sending him away to a boarding school. All children with Royal Titles were sent to boarding schools to further their education, they told him. He was a Count, and a Prince, although a very young one and now seventh in line for the crown.

This idea of boarding school made him very unhappy. He begged and pleaded to stay there with them, but they both felt this was the best thing for him. He would meet other boys with Royal Titles the same age and have fun, they assured him.

Mummie tried to console him by promising to send him a package every week with his favorite cookies, red velvet cakes, blood oranges, and treats in it, especially his favorite red drink that tasted like raspberries. He would come home on holidays, and during the summer, so it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

How little did they know.

Cobalt Hall

Round Square

Boarding School

Transylvania, Romania

A group of people in a field Description generated with very high confidence

Chapter Two

Only it wasn’t fun at all! It was dreadful. The other boys hated him, and would make a cross with their fingers, point at him, and run away, laughing. They wouldn’t let him play any games with them, not even cricket. Often, a group of the boys would follow him around, and taunt him, Go back where you came from! they would shout, and make a cross with their fingers at him, we know all about the curse, Dracula! So, he would climb wearily up the stairs to his room, take off his sunglasses, drop his books on the desk, pull the shades down on his window, and plop into his casket pulling the covers up over his head.

Let dem play dose stupid games! he would say to no one in particular, I don’t care about des stupid curse, I vant to forget about it forever! He would turn over, snuggle deeper into the eiderdown quilt, fall asleep, and dream about flying.

After the sun went down, he would wake up to sit in his room, do his homework, and look out at the moon, wishing he were one of those wolves who howled in the night under his window, or better still, one of the bats he saw sometimes flying around, shadowed in a moonbeam.

The curse was another matter. He knew there was one, but didn’t know much about it, only what he had overheard growing up. He couldn’t figure out how these boys knew about it, or how they found out that there was a curse. Sometimes he would sit with the moonlight shining through his window, and try to figure it out. There was a curse of some kind, of that he was certain. He remembered overhearing Mummie and Daddy talking about it in their bedroom early in the morning when was supposed to be asleep. He knew they were very sad about it.

Once, when he was six years old, he heard Trofin, his tutor, whispering to one of the servants about it. When he asked Vhat curse? the tutor just smiled and patted him on the head. That is nothing for you to be concerned about. Trofin told him, kindly.

Vhy do adults do dat to children ven they don’t vant to answer a question?

Another time, he overheard two of the servants whispering about it, or at least that was what he thought they were discussing. He was hiding in one of the linen closets, because Trofin wanted him to practice his multiplication tables. Ugh to that. As he crouched there, underneath one of the shelves where the bed sheets were stored, he strained his ears to listen. The servants were saying something about one of his relatives, the original Count, who lived hundreds of years ago.

"No vun remembers vhen or de exact events, leading up to de curse, or vhy dare vas a curse in