The monster set the wood alight and stepped into the fire. Soon to come was the end of everything: of suffering, of self-pity, and, most anticipated of all, of loneliness.
“It was nothing but a night fright.”
“These monsters, these weaknesses, this stake-stopping papyrus…none of it…”
“…Makes any sense?”
“You may go anywhere you wish in this castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. My ways are strange ways, and there shall be to you many strange things.”
The Count cleared his throat to say, “Thank you…but at this moment, I seek no compliments, no…embraces, no condolences, no…reassurances. I seek to move forward. But first, I seek a meal.”
Walter didn’t want to be a wolfman. He just wanted to be a runner.
“What’re ya sellin’?” grunted an angry eye behind the cracked door.
Dracula stated, “Freedom.”
“I strolled to the Brown House entrance and knocked. But the sound was quite hollow, and nobody answered.”
The men looked left. The men looked right. Then they looked down. It was a black cat!
A limbless Roman statue, though gorgeous, can only offer a hint of its former glory, and thus takes on a melancholy aspect. So too the moon, floating ruin…