The Mysterious Castle of Dr. X

By Wylie Perlitz

Circa the late eighteenth century, six tourists from Vienna, "the big city," arrive in the backwoods of Transylvania by horse and carriage on holiday and in search of a quaint rural adventure among the common folks. A detour leaves them stranded atop a mysterious decrepit, old castle populated by odd noises and an eerily suspicious servant. Along the way, they encounter a colorful thief, strange mutant-like beings, and a beautiful young lab assistant who may not be as she appears. Amid their own bickering, the tourists are led about the castle by the doctor himself, one step behind him and his diabolical plans. Now they must try to survive a stormy night within the mysterious castle of Dr. X.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638812500

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Copyright © 2022 Wylie Perlitz

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-63881-249-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63881-250-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Chapter 1

Karlstadt

A horse and carriage ran along a dirt road in a forest amid the Carpathians, cutting through the vast green valley toward a village in the hills, overlooked by a distant, decaying, rather odd and squarish castle roosted atop a jagged gray mountain. The village is Karlstadt. Inside the carriage, a lovely emerald-eyed young lass about sixteen years of age, smiling, well-dressed, and dimple-cheeked, charmingly snorted back then spat a gob of greenish goo out the coach window.

Across her was a smirking, middle-aged man with blonde hair and creases above his cheeks from a life of laughter and frivolity. He had fine but well-worn clothes, wearing a small hat but elaborate suit, a slightly torn cravat. He was pleasantly clean-cut. He smiled easily at the young lady’s antic.

Four others in the coach slept: two older men and their younger wives, dressed like proper businessmen and ladies of standing. Tourists.

The coach pulled into the tiny village up a cobblestoned hill and to a sort of flat landing that seemed to be the town square and served as a convenient unloading place for a carriage, as it could then easily turn about the square and head back out of town. In addition, the town’s inn, a great source of pride and central gathering place for the locals, stood just at one corner of the square, and the smell of crisping pies and spirited fruits wafted across the courtyard, creating a sense of warmth in spite of the damp air.

The driver, a rather tall, bony fellow, pulled up to a greeting of local peasants, a combination of ethnicities in bright, exotic dress, speaking in assorted tongues, of which Helga, the young maiden, could make out only her native German, although it was an odd accent, and perhaps Hungarian, but the others she couldn’t be sure of. The driver hopped down, brushed away some of the cloying peasants, and helped Helga out of the cab. Behind her stepped Karl, the blonde man, revealing his tall and fit frame. Then one by one came the nobles, as Karl sarcastically thought of them, the two businessmen and their wives.

As the locals swarmed the coach some with hands outstretched, looking for a coin or two, others look to grab some of the luggage off the coach in order to earn their charity, all fascinated and eager to greet the tourists. The driver, not softheartedly, beat back some of the curious to keep them at bay, but the peasants merely brushed themselves off and kept smiling.

Oh, Daddy, look how they come to see us in! So wonderful! Helga, with the green eyes, said this as she handed some daisies she’d collected to some local children as if in exchange for the enthusiastic reception.

Yes, indeed, answered the elder Von Lepp. They know proper respect. To these mountain villagers, we Viennese must represent progress, modernity. He seemed a bit the urban dandy, a feather in his cap, fancy pipe, and a monocle to boot, although immediately he put the superfluous eyeglass away, out of embarrassment perhaps. He began handing out coins to the beggars in the crowd and seemed to be having great fun doing it. Before long, he was tossing coins into the small throng to the cheers of the flower-adorned peasants.

This is Lord Otto Von Lepp, Esq. Businessman. Father. Entrepreneur. And now, a philanthropic man-on-holiday. Beside him stands his wife, Anna, pretty and quiet in a lovely green dress. Behind him is a mountain of a man, Johan, bearded, in fine but ill-fitting clothes, he never strays but a step from Otto’s shadow, eager to learn and connect himself to important people. Never mind that Otto is several years his junior, Johan has much to learn and gain from working for such an up-and-coming gentleman.

The only member of the group showing unease is a stunningly beautiful redheaded woman clutching upon the beefy arm of Johan, her husband and senior by more than a decade. She cringes at the scene before her and pulls back in disgust from the pawing towns-folk.

Oh, Helène, really? Otto grows frustrated with her intolerance, her gloomy attitude. You can’t truly be so put out by these good, simple folks? These are God’s workers, the commoners, salt of the earth! You see, they recognize people of our dignified status immediately as we present ourselves…proper respect. With this, Otto begins enthusiastically shaking hands with those in the crowd, two hands at a time…

With the Lord distracted, Helène pulls on her husband’s massive arm and whispers to him. Really, Johan, must he hand out coins to everyone? He’s making us all look like foolish outsiders. Do you suppose they shall truly respect us because we throw silver at them? They’re laughing at us! Indeed, it could be said that some in the crowd were laughing perhaps at, rather than along with, the foreign guests.

Johan, impatient with his wife’s impertinent griping, stood up tall for a moment then bent down toward his wife and tugged her arm toward himself. Through gritted teeth, he warned, "Helène! Please do not ruin this opportunity which has been gifted to us. Lord Von Lepp could have invited any of his employees to accompany his wife and his-self on this holiday. I say to you this could be the beginning of great things for us! A promotion, a chance to get inside the business! Sticking close to the lord is our key to success!" As he finished on the word success, he was already less cross and deeply musing his own future. But Helène remained unconvinced.

Oh, Johan, you and your dreams of grandeur and gold. Really, you know I am quite well content with our life back in Vienna. I wish we’d never left. I’m not comfortable being so far from home.

Really, my bride? It is only for a few weeks, you can stand a bit of adventure, can’t you?

Adventure? Is that what you call this? Out here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of hungry peasants? They’re probably just going to get drunk and intend to beg off us again tomorrow!

The inn’s porter, a young but serious-looking chap, having secured the passengers a table at the inn, signaled the group. Otto pushed through the crowd, with the help of the rather mean driver, his wife and daughter behind him, and motioned to Johan to come along.

Helène. Johan grew short with his wife. "Do not ruin this for me! It is the duty of a wife to obey her husband, and I shall expect that being in Transylvania makes no exceptions to the custom but rather that being so far from civilization should only double it down upon itself! So please listen to me, em, is what I am trying to say."

The young porter hops out of the inn and makes to gather the luggage from the coach, but Otto turns back and motions toward him to move away. No, no. That is quite alright. I’ve a man for that. Karl! Karl! Quickly, our luggage! And he clapped twice as he said this before turning and ascending the steps to the inn, Helga scurrying up beside him and taking his arm as they cross the threshold.

Karl, the blonde man, collects the luggage. No one has tipped the driver, it seems. Karl ignores the bony man’s icy stares, setting down some bags and reaching into his waistcoat for a flask from which he pulls a quick hit before regathering the luggage, some six bags in all—quite an act—and entering the inn.

After setting the luggage down beside himself, Karl stands at attention ready to wait on the other five, seated at a simple wooden table. Well, there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of choices on what passes for a menu here. Nothing but turnip pastries and cheap brandy. Otto had voiced his first complaint. It would also prove to be essentially his only complaint of the journey until it was well too late.

We’d not have this problem if we were back in Austria! said Helène, to which Otto curtly responded:

Really, now…try not to be such the elitist! Chance your hand at something new for once. See how the other half lives, so to speak. It’s really not so bad, is it? The life of a peasant? Why, if they can live this way all their lives, we can certainly do it for a fortnight or a bit more! After all, that is the point of this, isn’t it? To expand our experiences? To mingle with the good souls of our European countryside? Before returning to our well-earned luxuries and our privilege back home.

Your privilege, Herr Von Lepp, Helène so wanted to say, is quite larger than ours, although we come from the same place and my husband works just as hard, if not harder than you! She wanted to but didn’t. She sat. Silently. Obediently. And in any case, it didn’t matter since the young maiden was now talking and obviously had seen fit to add her opinion.

Yes, chimed Helga, "as the greatest minds in modern governmental philosophy have written, ‘for one to rule the people, one must first understand the people.’ At the very least, we should be capable of tolerating them, shouldn’t we, Father?"

A small girl in a dirty babushka hobbling about on a crude wooden crutch under one arm carried a tray of drinks over to the small table with the other. Four brandies and one water. Helga smiled at the crippled child, but she only looked to the floor then limped away silently into the crowd of peasant rabble by the bar. Helga had wished to give the poor thing a flower, but it was just as well as she noticed she’d dropped her last two somewhere during the commotion on the way into the inn.

The adults