Summary: Based on Bram Stoker's Dracula (the book). Quincey Harker has dealt with some strange things in his eighteen years, but this is by far the strangest.
A/N: Quincey Harker is the son of Jonathan and Mina Harker. If you haven't read Dracula, you probably won't understand most of this story. Sorry!
Quincey Harker
6 November, late. - This has been a most bizarre birthday, even for me, so I shall try to put it down exactly as it happened, like mom is always urging me.
"Journal-writing saved our lives once, Quincey," she's always saying. I know. I've heard the tale before. This was, in fact, the first birthday I have not heard it. This was the first birthday for quite a few things.
I visited three graves this year and it is the first time I have gone alone. Mom will not be glad to hear I went after dark, but I feel more comfortable in the night and it was the only time I had available, since the days are short and class is long. A lot of studying is needed to become a doctor and I want to be the best, like Uncle Van Helsing and Uncle John.
The cemetery was locked, but I learned long ago how to climb fences, so this was not a problem. I visited Aunt Lucy first. Her crypt is always locked and only Uncle Arthur has the key, so I thought that I would pay my respects from outside as usual, but the door was ajar when I reached it. I have never been allowed into the crypt and I do not believe Uncle Arthur has been inside it since she was finally put to rest. After hearing the story from Uncle Van Helsing, I don't blame him.
Out of some morbid curiosity, I entered the cool chamber. You see, I did not know Aunt Lucy, since she died some years before my birth at the hands of a demon. Uncle Van Helsing (rest his soul) was very determined that I know about vampires, since they are so important to my past. Most of the gory details, I learned from him and I am glad now for every bloody story. It kept me from fainting at the sight in the crypt.
It is too terrible to retell, but I will say that I have now seen Aunt Lucy twenty-five years after her death and was not able to keep my dinner down. I have a rather high tolerance for the dead and even the decapitated, having gone on quite a few clandestine vampire killings with Uncle Van Helsing (though mom and father would not be pleased to know it), but never have I seen a body so degraded by time as Aunt Lucy's. I supposed twenty-five years' time is to blame, though it could also have had something to do with the large wolf that was slobering over her.
It was a fearsome black wolf with shining yellow eyes and overly large canine teeth. I do not know what possessed me to do so, but I pulled out my bowie knife and prepared to face down the beast. It growled and for a moment I thought that I would die in the same way that Uncle Quincey and Uncle Van Helsing died, gallantly fighting the forces of evil. The wolf, however, did not lunge at me as I expected, but instead sniffed the air and whined. It then bared its teeth in an effort to preserve its dominance, but slunk from the crypt without so much as a nibble at me.
I will not detail the position in which I found Aunt Lucy's various body parts, only note that they were returned to their proper places and sealed again in her coffin. To be safe, I left with her my crucifix, which father gave to me for my fifth birthday and which I have worn ever since. It will do no good to mom or Uncle Arthur, however, to have Aunt Lucy rise from the grave again, so I will have to do without my cross for the time being.
I then moved on to Uncle Quincey's grave, as I do every year to pay homage to the man I am named for. This day, twenty-five years ago, Uncle Quincey gave his life to save mom. His grave was also the site of an unusual animal visitation, this time by a large, brown bat.
Tonight truly was an unusual night. Even for me, a man (yes, now a man of eighteen years) who frequents cemeteries and deals quite regularly with vampires and their various underlings, this was a bizzare birthday.
The bat also behaved strangely. It perched on Uncle Quincey's headstone like a bird might perch on a tree branch, as if it belonged there, and it stared at me (a strange thing for a bat to do, since they are mostly blind). It seemed to be mocking me. I could not have Uncle Quincey's tomb marred by this servant of the undead, so I shooed the thing away with my knife and set garlic around Uncle Quincey's tombstone.
Mom and father would not be pleased to know that I gave up all my protection tonight, even though it was to protect the eternal souls of their dearest friends. I had already given my crucifix and my garlic by the time I reached Uncle Van Helsing's grave. The dirt is still fresh in front of his newly engraved tombstone. Sometimes, when I am in a class of particular disinterest to me, I think he will walk in with one of his usual foreign mistranslations or with yet another story mom has deemed too hard for me to hear.
Then I remember.
It has been only two months since his passing and I know that if I should ever see him again, I should have to do to him what he did to Aunt Lucy so many years ago. I want to believe that I would have the courage to do it for the peace of his soul, but I doubt sometimes if I would be able to carry out the steps required.
I have done it before, of course. Drive a stake through the heart, cut off the head, and stuff the mouth with garlic. I have done it quite a few times (though mom and father do not know). Never have I done it to someone I knew and loved. Uncle Van Helsing and Uncle John had the courage to save Aunt Lucy, even though they loved her, but if Uncle Van Helsing should come to my dorm tomorrow in a shroud of mist or in the form of a bat, I may hesitate. He would want me to perform the ritual, of course. Perhaps I will never have to make the choice...
I cannot write more of this tonight. I shall try again tomorrow.