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Genre: Gothic Horror

Muharhareader!

Genre: Gothic Horror Muharhareader!

Contents

UNIT AIMS AND OUTCOMES

3

USEFUL TERMS IN THIS UNIT

4

GENRE

4

APPROPRIATION

4

SUBVERTED READINGS

5

INTERTEXTUALITY

5

ELEMENTS OF THE GOTHIC NOVEL

7

ELEMENTS OF ROMANCE

9

CREATIVE TASK 1

9

THE RAVEN - EDGAR ALAN POE

11

DRACULA – BRAM STOKER

14

Unit Aims and Outcomes

This
unit
comes
at
a
time
when
you
have
first
received
your
laptops.
This
unit
is
brand
new


and
will
aim
for
you
to
learn
how
to
use
your
laptop
at
school,
particularly
in
English.
Not


everything
will
be
on
the
laptops
but
they
will
be
integral
to
the
unit.



KEY
LEARNING
AREAS:


Origins
and
paradigms
of
the
Gothic
Horror
Genre


Development
and
appropriation
of
genre


The
creative
process,
including
drafting,
editing
and
publishing



TEXT
TYPES:


Poetry:
The
Raven



Film


Television


Novel


Graphic
Novel


MAJOR
AIMS
OF
THIS
UNIT:


For
students
to
familiarise
themselves
with
the
concept
of
genre
and
in
particular
Gothic


Horror.



For
students
to
connect
their
understanding
of
Romanticism
with
Gothic
Horror.



For
students
to
engage
with
the
genre
in
a
variety
of
forms
and
styles
over
time.



For
students
to
understand
the
influence
of
context
on
the
evolution
of
the
genre.



For
students
to
create
and
publish
their
own
work
based
on
the
genre.



For
students
to
become
comfortable
with
a
variety
of
programs
on
their
new
laptops.



KEY
LEARNING
OUTCOMES


1


understanding,
interpretation,
critical
analysis
and
pleasure


responds
to
and
composes
increasingly
sophisticated
and
sustained
texts
for


5


transfers
understanding
of
language
concepts
into
new
and
different
contexts


6


experiments
with
different
ways
of
imaginatively
and
interpretively
transforming


experience,
information
and
ideas
into
texts


9
 


demonstrates
understanding
of
the
ways
texts
reflect
personal
and
public
worlds


Useful Terms In This Unit Genre

Genre
refers
to
texts
of
a
similar
type
and
form.
When
people
view
or
read
a
particular
 genre
the
expect
certain
conventions
to
be
followed.
For
example,
it’s
conventional
for
 horror ‐genre
texts
to
include
such
things
as
the
supernatural
or
un‐dead
beings
and
haunted
 castles.
A
text
can
be
a
mix
of
several
genres
such
as
comic
horror.
A
text
can
also
be
a
mix
 of
g enres.



Sub‐genre
refers
to
a
specific
type
within
a
genre.
The
horror
has
a
number

of
sub‐genres,


including
gothic
horror,
which
originated
in
the
Victorian
period
(mid
1800s
to
1900).


Frankenstein
and
Dracula
are
both
classics
of
this
sub‐genre.



1. Research
and
make
a
list
of
as
many
genres
as
you
can
think
of.
Are
any
of
these
sub‐ genres?
Do
any
genres
overlap?
Work
with
a
friend
to
make
a
visual
representation
 map
of
all
the
different
genres.
Start
with
your
brainstorm,
then
mindmap
them
to
 show
links,
then
make
a
final
copy
with
images
on
the
map
that
highlight
elements
of
 those
genres.

****
What
can
you
do
with


http://www.notcot.com/archives/2008/04/stefanie_posave.php.



2. Intere sting
links
http://www.literature‐map.com/
Put
in
an
author
and
see
how
other
 similar
authors
relate.



3. When
you
think
of
the
gothic
horror
genre,
what
images
come
to
mind?
What


expectations
do
you
have?
What
texts
do
you
think
belong
to
that
genre?


4. Go
to
http://www.wordle.net/
and
copy
and
past
a
story
or
poem
that
we
are
 studying
in
this
unit.
Make
it
suit
the
genre
visually.
Have
a
look
at
what
key
words
 come
up.
Compa re
to
other
peoples. 


Appropriation

Appropriation
is
taking
an
image,
character
or
technique
from
one
context
and
placing
it
in
 another.
This
happens
quite
a
lot
in
many
written
text
forms.
Often
the
appropriation
will
 occur
when
a
character
is
taken
out
of
their
time,
such
as
Ruth
Park's
Playing Beattie Bow ,


where
a
modern
girl
goes
back
in
time
and
experiences
19th
century
Sydney.
Park
uses


appropriation
to
highlight
the
differences
between
two
eras
in
history.



Other
forms
of
appropriation
include
taking
a
stereotyped
character
out
of
their
context
and


putting
them
in
a
different
setting,
for
example,
an
unemployed
circus
ringmaster
gets
a
job


as
a
call
centre
operator.
The
responder
has
certain
expectations
about
the
circus


ringmaster's
traits,
which
are
highlighted
by
the
contrast
with
his
current
occupation.


Composers
generally
use
appropriation
to
emphasise
difference.


Another
form
of
appropriation
is
when
the
composer
wants
the
audience
to
view
the


conventional
text
through
an
unconventional
perspective.
One
example
would
be


composing
a
fairytale
where
the
story,
usually
told
from
the
knight's
point
of
view,
is
told


from
the
dragon's
point
of
view.



5. During
this
unit
you
will
be
asked
to
appropriate
ideas
creatively.
Think
of
any


appropriations
you
know
of.
Are
they
valuable
texts?
Or
are
they
merely
copies?


What
makes
them
a
valuable
text?



Subverted readings

Subverted
readings
and
interpretations
of
texts
involve
twisting
the
conventions
(what
 usually
occurs/what
you
expect
to
occur)
or
the
stereotypesof
a
well ‐known
text.
A
very
 common
variety
of
subverted
readings
are
so‐called
fractured fairy tales.
In
these
fairy
tales
 the
characters
or
conventions
are
changed.
The
most
common
convention
of
fairytales
to
be
 subverted
is
the
happy
ending,
for
example,
in
 The Three Little Pigs 
the
ending
could
have
 the
wolf
climb
down
the
chimney
and
capture
the
three
little
pigs
(Which
is
a
happy
ending
 for
the
wolf!)


The Princess Bride
by
William
Goldman
is
probably
the
most
famous
example
of
a
fractured
 fairy
tale
novel.
It
contains
a
beautiful
girl
called
Buttercup
reluctantly
betrothed
(engaged
 to)
to
a
prince,
who
is
also
the
villain,
and
the
adventures
of
her
lost
lover
Westley
(whom
 she
calls
Farm
Boy)
trying
to
reunite
with
her.
Although
there
are
a
number
of
fairy
tale
 elements
in
the
novel
(a
beautiful
girl,
a
prince,
the
promise
of
marriage),
these
are
 subverted
by
specifics
such
as
the
prince
being
the
villain.
Generally
in
fairy
tales,
a
Prince
is


the
hero
( Cinderella,
Sleeping Beauty 
and
Snow White and the Seven Dwarves 
to
name
a


few). 


6. Do
a
quick
brain
storm
now
about
a
subverted
reading
that
could
be
written
from


your
favourite
text/genre.
What
characters
and
conventions
would
be
changed?


What
elements
woulld
be
highlighted?
What
would
it
critique?



7. Do
a
qu ick
brain
storm
now
about
a
subverted
reading
that
could
be
written
from
any
 fairytail.
What
characters
and
conventions
would
be
changed?
What
elements
woulld
 be
highlighted?
What
would
it
critique?



8. Why
do
you
think
subverted
readings
are
so
popular
at
the
moment?
Make
a
list
of
all


the
ones
you
can
think
of
being
at
the
cinemas
or
on
television
at
the
moment.



Illustrate
this
list
with
images
you
find
from
google.com.
Make
sure
you
reference


these
properly.



Intertextuality

Intertextuality
is
the
link
between
two
texts.
Many
modern
texts
borrow
from
earlier
texts.


This
can
be
done
in
a
number
of
different
ways
and
serves
to
add
weight
to
meaning.


Texts
can
be
re‐composed
into
different
formats.
Films
such
as
The X-men,
Spiderman 
and
 the
Batman
series
orig inated
as
graphic
novels
and
have
been
used
to
re‐ create
the
text
in
a
 different
form.
This
is
an
effective
form
of
intertextuality
as
it
uses
the
responder's
 expectations
as
a
basis
for
meaning.
When
a
responder
views
a
film
adaptation
of
a
graphic
 he/she
knows
more
or
less
what
to
expect.
What
do
you
expect
to
see
in
a
graphic
novel?
 Action,
witty
one‐ liners,
good
versus
evil,
a
love
interest
and
eventually
good
overcoming
 evil. 


Texts
can
also
be
re‐composed
or
recontextualised 
into
modern
contexts.
Some
examples
of
 these
include
the
Baz
Luhrmann
version
of
Shakespeare's
Romeo and Juliet ,
the
play
A West Side Story ,
also
a
modern
adaptation
of
Romeo and Juliet 
and
 Clueless 
which
is
a
modern
 version
of
Jane
Austen's
Emma .
When
a
responder
reads
or
views
a
text
that
has
been
 recomposed
into
modern
contexts
he/she
will
expect
to
see
certain
themes
played
out.
The
 fact
that
it
is
in
a
modern
context
has
the
effect
of
validating
themes
as
being
timeless
as
 well
as
expressing
the
importance
of
these
themes
in
contemporary
times. 


A
pastiche
is
a
text
that
uses
another
text's
style
and
features.
This
is
sometimes
done
in
a
 humorous
way
but
nevertheless
remains
respectful.
Many
science‐fiction
or
fantasy
texts
 are
considered
pastiche
because
they
take
well‐known
feat ures
from
previous
texts
in
order
 to
tell
their
story.


Finally,
intertextuality
can
involve
allusions,
where
reference
is
made
to
other
texts.
These
 may
include
references,
symbols
or
icons
that
imply
another
text.
Many
texts
use
references
 through
similes 
and
metaphors.
Calling
a
person
a
'Judas'
is
to
imply
that
that
person
is
 disloyal.
This
is
an
allusion
the
biblical
Judas
who
betrayed
Jesus
in
the
Christian
Bible.
 Consider
the
effect
of
a
religious
allusion,
implying
a
spiritual
link
to
an
idea
will
strengthen
 the
importance
or
weight
of
what
a
composer
is
attempting
to
express.


Terry
Pratchett's
 Discworld 
novels
use
a
lot
of
intertextuality.
Some
examples
include
Wyrd Sisters ,
which
loosely
follows
Shakespeare's
Macbeth,
 Maskerade ,
based
on
Gaston
LeRo ux's
 The Phantom of the Opera
and
 Carpe Jugulum ,
which
alluded
to
the
narrative
conventions
 found
in
vampire
stories.


9. In
your
own
words,
identify
and
describe
the
differences
between
appropriation,
 subverted
readings
and
intertextuality.



Elements of the Gothic Novel

The
gothic
novel
was
invented
almost
single‐ handedly
by
Horace
Walpole,
whose
The
Castle
 of
Otranto 
(1764)
contains
essentially
all
the
elements
that
constitute
the
genre.
Walpole's
 novel
was
imitated
not
only
in
the
eighteenth
century
and
not
only
in
the
novel
form,
but
it
 has
influenced
writing,
poetry,
and
even
film
making
up
to
the
present
day.


Gothic
elements
include
the
following:


1.
Setting
in
a
castle.
The
action
takes
place
in
and
around
an
old
castle,
sometimes


seemingly
abandoned,
sometimes
occupied.
The
castle
often
contains
secret
passages,
trap


doors,
secret
rooms,
dark
or
hidden
staircases,
and
possibly
ruined
sections.
The
castle
may


be
near
or
connected
to
caves,
which
lend
their
own
haunting
flavor
with
their
branchings,


claustrophobia,
and
mystery.


2.
An
atmosphere
of
mystery
and
suspense.
The
work
is
pervaded
by
a
threatening
feeling,


a
fear
enhanced
by
the
unknown.
Often
the
plot
itself
is
built
around
a
mystery,
such
as


unknown
parentage,
a
disappearance,
or
some
other
inexplicable
event.
Elements
3,
4,
and


5
below
contribute
to
this
atmosphere.


3.
An
ancient
prophecy
is
connected
with
the
castle
or
its
inhabitants
(either
former
or


present).
The
prophecy
is
usually
obscure,
partial,
or
confusing.
"What
could
it
mean?"
In


m ore
watered
down
modern
examples,
this
may
amount
to
merely
a
legend:
"It's
said
that


the
ghost
of
old
man
Krebs
still
wanders
these
halls."


4.
Omens,
portents,
visions.
A
character
may
have
a
disturbing
dream
vision,
or
some


phenomenon
may
be
seen
as
a
portent
of
coming
events.
For
example,
if
the
statue
of
the


lord
of
the
manor
falls
over,
it
may
portend
his
death.


5.
Supernatural
or
otherwise
inexplicable
events.
Dramatic,
amazing
events
occur,
such
as


ghosts
or
giants
walking,
or
inanimate
objects
(such
as
a
suit
of
armor
or
painting)
coming
to


life.
In
some
works,
the
events
are
ultimately
given
a
natural
explanation,
while
in
others
the


events
are
truly
supernatural.


6.
High,
even
overwrought
emotion.
The
narration
may
be
highly
sentimental,
and
the


characters
are
often
overcome
by
anger,
sorrow,
surprise,
and
especially,
terror.
Characters
 suffer
from
raw
nerves
and
a
feeling
of
impending
doom.
Crying
and
emotional
speeches
are
 frequent.
Breathlessness
and
panic
are
common. 


7.
Women
in
distress.
As
an
appeal
to
the
pathos
and
sympathy
of
the
reader,
the
female


characters
often
face
events
that
leave
them
fainting,
terrified,
screaming,
and/or
sobbing.
A


lonely,
pensive,
and
oppressed
heroine
is
often
the
central
figure
of
the
novel,
so
her


sufferings
are
even
more
pronounced
and
the
focus
of
attention.


8.
Women
threatened
by
a
powerful,
impulsive,
tyrannical
male.
One
or
more
male


characters
has
the
power,
as
king,
lord
of
the
manor,
father,
or
guardian,
to
demand
that


one
or
more
of
the
female
characters
do
something
intolerable.
The
woman
may
be


commanded
to
marry
someone
she
does
not
love
(it
may
even
be
the
powerful
male


himself),
or
commit
a
crime.


9.
The
metonymy
of
gloom
and
horror.
Metonymy
is
a
subtype
of
metaphor,
in
which


something
(like
rain)
is
used
to
stand
for
something
else
(like
sorrow).
For
example,
the
film


industry
likes
to
use
metonymy
as
a
quick
shorthand,
so
we
often
notice
that
it
is
raining
in


funeral
scenes.
Note
that
the
following
metonymies
for
"doom
and
gloom"
all
suggest
some


element
of
mystery,
danger,
or
the
supernatural.
This
also
relates
to
pathetic
fallacy.



wind,
especially
howling


rain,
especially
blowing


doors
grating
on
rusty
hinges


sighs,
moans,
howls,
eerie
sounds


footsteps
approaching


clanking
chains 


lights
in
abandoned
rooms 


gusts
of
wind
blowing
out
lights


characters
trapped
in
a
room


doors
suddenly
slamming
shut


ruins
of
buildings


baying
of
distant
dogs
(or
wolves?)


thunder
and
lightning


crazed
laughter


10.
The
vocabulary
of
the
gothic.
Here
as
an
example
are
some
of
the
words
(in
several


categories)
that
help
make
up
the
vocabulary
of
the
gothic
in
The
Castle
of
Otranto:


Mystery

diabolical,
enchantment,
ghost,
goblins,
haunted,
infernal,
magic,


magician,
miracle,
necromancer,
omens,
ominous,
portent,


preternatural,
prodigy,
prophecy,
secret,
sorcerer,
spectre,
spirits,


strangeness,
talisman,
vision


Fear,
Terror,
or


afflicted,
affliction,
agony,
anguish,
apprehensions,
apprehensive,


Sorrow

commiseration,
concern,
despair,
dismal,
dismay,
dread,
dreaded,


dreading,
fearing,
frantic,
fright,
frightened,
grief,
hopeless,
horrid,


horror,
lamentable,
melancholy,
miserable,
mournfully,
panic,


sadly,
scared,
shrieks,
sorrow,
sympathy,
tears,
terrible,
terrified,


terror,
unhappy,
wretched


Surprise

alarm,
amazement,
astonished,
astonishment,
shocking,
staring,


surprise,
surprised,
thunderstruck,
wonder


Haste

anxious,
breathless,
flight,
frantic,
hastened,
hastily,
impatience,
 impatient,
impatiently,
impetuosity,
precipitately,
running,
sudden,
 suddenly 


Anger

anger,
angrily,
choler,
enraged,
furious,
fury,
incense,
incensed,
 provoked,
rage,
raving,
resentment,
temper,
wrath,
wrathful,
 wrathfully 


Largeness

enormous,
gigantic,
giant,
large,
tremendous,
vast


Find
a
program
online
that
allows
you
to
make
word
clouds.
Put
these
words
and
others
into


a
word
cloud
or
visual
map
to
show
their
relations.
Add
others
of
your
own
choosing.
Save


onto
your
hard
drive.



Elements of Romance

In
addition
to
the
standard
gothic
machinery
above,
many
gothic
novels
contain
elements
of


romance
as
well.
Elements
of
romance
include
these:


1.
Powerful
love. 
Heart
stirring,
often
sudden,
emotions
create
a
life
or
death
commitment.


2.
Uncertainty
of
reciprocation.
What
is
the
beloved
thinking?
Is
the
lover's
love
returned
or


not?


3.
Unreturned
love.
Someone
loves
in
vain
(at
least
temporarily).
Later,
the
love
may
be


returned. 


4.
Tension
between
true
love
and
father's
control,
disapproval,
or
choice.
Most
often,
the


father
of
the
woman
disapproves
of
the
man
she
loves.


5.
Lovers
parted.
Some
obs tacle
arises
and
separates
the
lovers,
geographically
or
in
some
 other
way. 


6.
Illicit
love
or
lust
threatens
the
virtuous
one.
The
young
woman
becomes
a
target
of


some
evil
man's
desires
and
schemes.


7.
Rival
lovers
or
multiple
suitors.
One
of
the
lovers
(or
even
both)
can
have
more
than
one


person
vying
for
affection.


Creative Task 1

Choose
at
least
one
element
of
a
gothic
novel
and
one
of
the
listed
metonyms
and
write
a


short
scene
aiming
to
evoke
a
gothic
atmosphere.
Try
using
some
of
the
language
listed
and


add
your
own
words
to
the
list!

Class collection of work. 



Throughout
this
unit,
you
will
be
composing
many
creative
works
to
express
your
knowledge


and
understanding
of
the
genre.



Each
student
will
propose
at
least
three
different
works
for
publication.



Each
student
will
work
on
editing
each
other’s
work
for
publication.



A
collation
team
will
collect
the
final
works
of
each
student
and
work
with
the
teacher
to


organise
and
publish
the
class
collection
of
work.
You
may
also
decide
to
include
work
from


throughout
the
year.




Your
teacher
will
have
more
details
about
this
process
as
you
go
along.



The Raven - Edgar Alan Poe

Interactive “Raven” http://www.teachersfirst.com/share/raven/

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Dracula – Bram Stoker

The
Project
Gutenberg
EBook
of
Dracula,
by
Bram
Stoker


CHAPTER
1


Jonathan
Harker’s
Journal


3
May.
Bistritz. ‐‐Left
Munich
at
8:35
P.M.,
on
1st
May,
arriving
at
Vienna
early
next
morning;


should
have
arrived
at
6:46,
but
train
was
an
hour
late.
Buda‐Pesth
seems
a
wonderful
place,


from
the
glimpse
which
I
got
of
it
from
the
train
and
the
little
I
could
walk
through
the
 streets.
I
feared
to
go
very
far
from
the
station,
as
we
had
arrived
late
and
would
start
as
 near
the
correct
time
as
possible.
The
impression
I
had
was
that
we
were
leaving
the
West
 and
entering
the
East;
the
most
western
of
splendid
bridges
over
the
Danube,
which
is
here
 of
n oble
width
and
depth,
took
us
among
the
traditions
of
Turkish
rule.
We
left
in
pretty
 good
time,
and
came
after
nightfall
to
Klausenburgh.
Here
I
stopped
for
the
night
at
the
 Hotel
Royale.
I
had
for
dinner,
or
rather
supper,
a
chicken
done
up
some
way
with
red
 pepper,
which
was
very
good
but
thirsty.
(Mem.
get
recipe
for
Mina.)
I
asked
the
waiter,
and
 he
said
it
was
called
"paprika
hendl,"
and
that,
as
it
was
a
national
dish,
I
should
be
able
to
 get
it
anywhere
along
the
Carpathians.
I
found
my
smattering
of
German
very
useful
here,
 indeed,
I
don’t
know
how
I
should
be
able
to
get
on
without
it.
Having
had
some
time
at
my
 disposal
when
in
London,
I
had
visited
the
British
Museum,
and
made
search
among
the
 books
and
maps
in
the
library
regarding
Transylvania;
it
had
struck
me
that
some
 foreknowledge
of
the
country
could
hardly
fail
to
have
some
importance
in
dealing
with
a
 nobleman
of
that
country.
I
find
that
the
district
he
named
is
in
the
extreme
east
of
the
 country,
just
on
the
borders
of
three
states,
Transylvania,
Moldavia,
and
Bukovina,
in
the
 midst
of
the
Carpathian
mountains;
one
of
the
wildest
and
least
known
portions
of
Europe.
I
 was
not
able
to
light
on
any
map
or
work
giving
the
exact
locality
of
the
Castle
Dracula,
as
 there
are
no
maps
of
this
country
as
yet
to
compare
with
our
own
Ordance
Survey
Maps;
but
 I
found
that
Bistritz,
the
post
town
named
by
Count
Dracula,
is
a
fairly
well‐known
place.
I
 shall
enter
here
some
of
my
notes,
as
they
may
refresh
my
memory
when
I
talk
over
my
 travels
with
Mina.
In
the
population
of
Transylvania
there
are
four
distinct
nationalities:
 Saxons
in
the
South,
and
mixed
with
them
the
Wallachs,
who
are
the
descendants
of
the
 Dacians;
Magyars
in
the
West,
and
Szekelys
in
the
East
and
North.
I
am
going
among
the
 latter,
who
claim
to
be
descended
from
Attila
and
the
Huns.
This
may
be
so,
for
when
the
 Magyars
conquered
the
country
in
the
eleventh
century
they
found
the
Huns
settled
in
it.
I
 read
that
every
known
superstition
in
the
world
is
gathered
into
the
horseshoe
of
the
 Carpathians,
as
if
it
were
the
centre
of
some
sort
of
imaginative
whirlpool;
if
so
my
stay
may
 be
very
interesting.
(Mem.,
I
must
ask
the
Count
all
about
them.)
I
did
not
sleep
well,
though
 my
bed
was
comfortable
enough,
for
I
had
all
sorts
of
queer
dreams.
There
was
a
dog
 howling
all
night
under
my
window,
which
may
have
had
something
to
do
with
it;
or
it
may
 have
been
the
paprika,
for
I
had
to
drink
up
all
the
water
in
my
carafe,
and
was
still
thirsty.
 Towards
morning
I
slept
and
was
wakened
by
the
continuous
knocking
at
my
door,
so
I
guess
 I
must
have
been
sleeping
soundly
then.
I
had
for
breakfast
more
paprika,
and
a
sort
of
 porridge
of
maize
flour
which
they
said
was
"mamaliga",
and
egg‐plant
stuffed
with
 forcemeat,
a
very
excellent
dish,
which
they
call
"impletata".
(Mem.,
get
recipe
for
this
also.)
 I
had
to
hurry
breakfast,
for
the
train
started
a
little
before
eight,
or
rather
it
ought
to
have


done
so,
for
after
rushing
to
the
station
at
7:30
I
had
to
sit
in
the
carriage
for
more
than
an


hour
before
we
began
to
move.
It
seems
to
me
that
the
further
east
you
go
the
more


unpunctual
are
the
trains.
What
ought
they
to
be
in
China?
All
day
long
we
seemed
to
 dawdle
through
a
country
which
was
full
of
beauty
of
every
kind.
Sometimes
we
saw
little
 towns
or
castles
on
the
top
of
steep
hills
such
as
we
see
in
old
missals;
sometimes
we
ran
by
 rivers
and
streams
which
seemed
from
the
wide
stony
margin
on
each
side
of
them
to
be
 subject
to
great
floods.
It
takes
a
lot
of
water,
and
running
strong,
to
sweep
the
outside
edge
 of
a
river
clear.
At
every
station
there
were
groups
of
people,
sometimes
crowds,
and
in
all
 sorts
of
attire.
Some
of
them
were
just
like
the
peasants
at
home
or
those
I
saw
coming
 through
France
and
Germany,
with
short
jackets,
and
round
hats,
and
home‐made
trousers;
 but
others
were
very
picturesque.
The
women
looked
pretty,
except
when
you
got
near
 them,
but
they
were
very
clumsy
about
the
waist.
They
had
all
full
white
sleeves
of
some
 kind
or
other,
and
most
of
them
had
big
belts
with
a
lot
of
strips
of
something
fluttering
 from
them
like
the
dresses
in
a
ballet,
but
of
course
there
were
petticoats
under
them.
The
 strangest
figures
we
saw
were
the
Slovaks,
who
were
more
barbarian
than
the
rest,
with
 their
big
cow‐boy
hats,
great
baggy
dirty‐whit e
trousers,
white
linen
shirts,
and
enormous
 heavy
leather
belts,
nearly
a
foot
wide,
all
studded
over
with
brass
nails.
They
wore
high
 boots,
with
their
trousers
tucked
into
them,
and
had
long
black
hair
and
heavy
black
 moustaches.
They
are
very
picturesque,
but
do
not
look
prepossessing.
On
the
stage
they
 would
be
set
down
at
once
as
some
old
Oriental
band
of
brigands.
They
are,
however,
I
am
 told,
very
harmless
and
rather
wanting
in
natural
self‐assertion.
It
was
on
the
dark
side
of
 twilight
when
we
got
to
Bistritz,
which
is
a
very
interesting
old
place.
Being
practically
on
the
 frontier‐‐ for
the
Borgo
Pass
leads
from
it
into
Bukovina‐‐ it
has
had
a
very
stormy
existence,
 and
it
certainly
shows
marks
of
it.
Fifty
years
ago
a
series
of
great
fires
took
place,
which
 made
terrible
havoc
on
five
separate
occasions.
At
the
very
beginning
of
the
seventeenth


century
it
underwent
a
siege
of
three
weeks
and
lost
13,000
people,
the
casualties
of
war


proper
being
assisted
by
famine
and
disease.
Count
Dracula
had
directed
me
to
go
to
the
 Golden
Krone
Hotel,
which
I
found,
to
my
great
delight,
to
be
thoroughly
old‐fashioned,
for
 of
course
I
wanted
to
see
all
I
could
of
the
ways
of
the
country.
I
was
evidently
expected,
for
 when
I
got
near
the
door
I
faced
a
cheery‐looking
elderly
woman
in
the
usual
peasant
dress‐‐ white
undergarment
with
a
long
double
apron,
front,
and
back,
of
coloured
stuff
fitting
 almost
too
tight
for
modesty.
When
I
came
close
she
bowed
and
said,
"The
Herr
 Englishman?"
"Yes,"
I
said,
"Jonathan
Harker."
She
smiled,
and
gave
some
message
to
an
 elderly
man
in
white
shirtsleeves,
who
had
followed
her
to
the
door.
He
went,
but
 immediately
returned
with
a
letter:
"My
friend.‐‐ Welcome
to
the
Carpathians.
I
am
anxiously
 expecting
you.
Sleep
well
tonight.
At
three
tomorrow
the
diligence
will
start
for
Bukovina;
a
 place
on
it
is
kept
for
you.
At
the
Borgo
Pass
my
carriage
will
await
you
and
will
bring
you
to
 me.
I
trust
that
your
journey
from
London
has
been
a
happy
one,
and
that
you
will
enjoy


your
stay
in
my
beautiful
land.‐‐Your
friend,
Dracula."
4
May‐‐I
found
that
my
landlord
had


got
a
letter
from
the
Count,
directing
him
to
secure
the
best
place
on
the
coach
for
me;
but


on
making
inquiries
as
to
details
he
seemed
somewhat
reticent,
and
pretended
that
he


could
not
understand
my
German.
This
could
not
be
true,
because
up
to
then
he
had


understood
it
perfectly;
at
least,
he
answered
my
questions
exactly
as
if
he
did.
He
and
his


wife,
the
old
lady
who
had
received
me,
looked
at
each
other
in
a
frightened
sort
of
way.
He


mumbled
out
that
the
money
had
been
sent
in
a
letter,
and
that
was
all
he
knew.
When
I


asked
him
if
he
knew
Count
Dracula,
and
could
tell
me
anything
of
his
castle,
both
he
and
his


wife
crossed
themselves,
and,
saying
that
they
knew
nothing
at
all,
simply
refused
to
speak


further.
It
was
so
near
the
time
of
starting
that
I
had
no
time
to
ask
anyone
else,
for
it
was
all


very
mysterious
and
not
by
any
means
comforting.
Just
before
I
was
leaving,
the
old
lady


came
up
to
my
room
and
said
in
a
hysterical
way:
"Must
you
go?
Oh!
Young
Herr,
must
you


go?"
She
was
in
such
an
excited
state
that
she
seemed
to
have
lost
her
grip
of
what
German


she
knew,
and
mixed
it
all
up
with
some
other
language
which
I
did
not
know
at
all.
I
was


just
able
to
follow
her
by
asking
many
questions.
When
I
told
her
that
I
must
go
at
once,
and


that
I
was
engaged
on
important
business,
she
asked
again:
"Do
you
know
what
day
it
is?"
I
 answered
that
it
was
the
fourth
of
May.
She
shook
her
head
as
she
said
again:
"Oh,
yes!
I
 know
that!
I 
know
that,
but
do
you
know
what
day
it
is?"
On
my
saying
that
I
did
not
 understand,
she
went
on:
"It
is
the
eve
of
St.
George’s
Day.
Do
you
not
know
that
tonight,
 when
the
clock
strikes
midnight,
all
the
evil
things
in
the
world
will
have
full
sway?
Do
you
 know
where
you
are
going,
and
what
you
are
going
to?"
She
was
in
such
evident
distress
 that
I
tried
to
comfort
her,
but
without
effect.
Finally,
she
went
down
on
her
knees
and
 implored
me
not
to
go;
at
least
to
wait
a
day
or
two
before
starting.
It
was
all
very
ridiculous
 but
I
did
not
feel
comfortable.
However,
there
was
business
to
be
done,
and
I
could
allow
 nothing
to
interfere
with
it.
I
tried
to
raise
her
up,
and
said,
as
gravely
as
I
could,
that
I
 thanked
her,
but
my
duty
was
imperative,
and
that
I
must
go.
She
then
rose
and
dried
her
 eyes,
and
taking
a
crucifix
from
her
neck
offered
it
to
me.
I
did
not
know
what
to
do,
for,
as
 an
English
Churchman,
I
have
been
taught
to
regard
such
things
as
in
some
measure
 idolatrous,
and
yet
it
seemed
so
ungracious
to
refuse
an
old
lady
meaning
so
well
and
in
 such
a
state
of
mind.
She
saw,
I
suppose,
the
doubt
in
my
face,
for
she
put
the
rosary
round
 my
neck
and
said,
"For
your
mother’s
sake,"
and
went
out
of
the
room.
I
am
writing
up
this
 part
of
the
diary
whilst
I
am
waiting
for
the
coach,
which
is,
of
course,
late;
and
the
crucifix
is
 still
round
my
neck.
Whether
it
is
the
old
lady’s
fear,
or
the
many
ghostly
traditions
of
this
 place,
or
the
crucifix
itself,
I
do
not
know,
but
I
am
not
feeling
nearly
as
easy
in
my
mind
as
 usual.
If
this
book
should
ever
reach
Mina
before
I
do,
let
it
bring
my
goodbye.
Here
comes


the
coach!
5
May.
The
Castle.‐‐The
gray
of
the
morning
has
passed,
and
the
sun
is
high
over


the
distant
horizon,
which
seems
jagged,
whether
with
trees
or
hills
I
know
not,
for
it
is
so
 far
off
that
big
things
and
little
are
mixed.
I
am
not
sleepy,
and,
as
I
am
not
to
be
called
till
I
 awake,
naturally
I
write
till
sleep
comes.
There
are
many
odd
things
to
put
down,
and,
lest
 who
reads
them
may
fancy
that
I
dined
too
well
before
I
left
Bistritz,
let
me
put
down
my
 dinner
exactly.
I
dined
on
what
they
called
"robber
steak"‐‐bits
of
bacon,
onion,
and
beef,
 seasoned
with
red
pepper,
and
strung
on
sticks,
and
roasted
over
the
fire,
in
simple
style
of
 the
London
cat’s
meat!
The
wine
was
Golden
Mediasch,
which
produces
a
queer
sting
on
the
 tongue,
which
is,
however,
not
disagreeable.
I
had
only
a
couple
of
glasses
of
this,
and
 nothing
else.
When
I
got
on
the
coach,
the
driver
had
not
taken
his
seat,
and
I
saw
him
 ta lking
to
the
landlady.
They
were
evidently
talking
of
me,
for
every
now
and
then
they
 looked
at
me,
and
some
of
the
people
who
were
sitting
on
the
bench
outside
the
door‐‐ came
and
listened,
and
then
looked
at
me,
most
of
them
pityingly.
I
could
hear
a
lot
of
 words
often
repeated,
queer
words,
for
there
were
many
nationalities
in
the
crowd,
so
I
 quietly
got
my
polyglot
dictionary
from
my
bag
and
looked
them
out.
I
must
say
they
were
 not
cheering
to
me,
for
amongst
them
were
"Ordog"‐‐Satan,
"Pokol"‐‐hell,
"st regoica"‐‐ witch,
"vrolok"
and
"vlkoslak"‐‐both
mean
the
same
thing,
one
being
Slovak
and
the
other
 Servian
for
something
that
is
either
werewolf
or
vampire.
(Mem.,
I
must
ask
the
Count
about
 these
superstitions.)
When
we
started,
the
crowd
round
the
inn
door,
which
had
by
this
time
 swelled
to
a
considerable
size,
all
made
the
sign
of
the
cross
and
pointed
two
fingers
 towards
me.
With
some
difficulty,
I
got
a
fellow
passenger
to
tell
me
what
they
meant.
He
 would
not
answer
at
first,
but
on
learning
that
I
was
English,
he
explained
that
it
was
a
 charm
or
guard
against
the
evil
eye.
This
was
not
very
pleasant
for
me,
just
starting
for
an
 unknown
place
to
meet
an
unknown
man.
But
everyone
seemed
so
kind‐hearted,
and
so
 sorrowful,
and
so
sympathetic
that
I
could
not
but
be
touched.
I
shall
never
forget
the
last
 glimpse
which
I
had
of
the
inn
yard
and
its
crowd
of
picturesque
figures,
all
crossing
 themselves,
as
they
stood
round
the
wide
archway,
with
its
background
of
rich
foliage
of
 oleander
and
orange
trees
in
green
tubs
clustered
in
the
centre
of
the
yard.
Then
our
driver,
 whose
wide
linen
drawers
covered
the
whole
front
of
the
boxseat,‐‐"gotza"
they
call
them‐‐ cracked
his
big
whip
over
his
four
small
horses,
which
ran
abreast,
and
we
set
off
on
our
 journey.
I
s oon
lost
sight
and
recollection
of
ghostly
fears
in
the
beauty
of
the
scene
as
we


drove
along,
although
had
I
known
the
language,
or
rather
languages,
which
my
fellow‐ passengers
were
speaking,
I
might
not
have
been
able
to
throw
them
off
so
easily.
Before
us
 lay
a
green
sloping
land
full
of
forests
and
woods,
with
here
and
there
steep
hills,
crowned
 with
clumps
of
trees
or
with
farmhouses,
the
blank
gable
end
to
the
road.
There
was
 everywhere
a
bewildering
mass
of
fruit
blossom‐‐ apple,
plum,
pear,
cherry.
And
as
we
drove
 by
I
could
see
the
green
grass
under
the
trees
spangled
with
the
fallen
petals.
In
and
out
 amongst
these
green
hills
of
what
they
call
here
the
"Mittel
Land"
ran
the
road,
losing
itself
 as
it
swept
round
the
grassy
curve,
or
was
shut
out
by
the
straggling
ends
of
pine
woods,
 which
here
and
there
ran
down
the
hillsides
like
tongues
of
flame.
The
road
was
rugged,
but
 still
we
seemed
to
fly
over
it
with
a
feverish
haste.
I
could
not
understand
then
what
the
 haste
meant,
but
the
driver
was
evidently
bent
on
losing
no
time
in
reaching
Borgo
Prund.
I
 was
told
that
this
road
is
in
summertime
excellent,
but
that
it
had
not
yet
been
put
in
order
 after
the
winter
snows.
In
this
respect
it
is
different
from
the
general
run
of
roads
in
the
 Carpathians,
for
it
is
an
old
tradition
that
they
are
not
to
be
kept
in
too
good
order.
Of
old
 the
Hospadars
would
not
repair
them,
lest
the
Turk
should
think
that
they
were
preparing
to
 bring
in
foreign
troops,
and
so
hasten
the
war
which
was
always
really
at
loading
point.
 Beyond
the
green
swelling
hills
of
the
Mittel
Land
rose
mighty
slopes
of
forest
up
to
the
lofty
 steeps
of
the
Carpathians
themselves.
Right
and
left
of
us
they
towered,
with
the
afternoon
 sun
falling
full
upon
them
and
bringing
out
all
the
glorious
colours
of
this
beautiful
range,
 deep
blue
and
purple
in
the
shadows
of
the
peaks,
green
and
brown
where
grass
and
rock
 mingled,
and
an
endless
perspective
of
jagged
rock
and
pointed
crags,
till
these
were
 themselves
lost
in
the
distance,
where
the
snowy
peaks
rose
grandly.
Here
and
there
 seemed
mighty
rifts
in
the
mountains,
through
which,
as
the
sun
began
to
sink,
we
saw
now
 and
again
the
white
gleam
of
falling
water.
One
of
my
companions
touched
my
arm
as
we
 swept
round
the
base
of
a
hill
and
opened
up
the
lofty,
snow‐covered
peak
of
a
mountain,
 which
seemed,
as
we
wound
on
our
serpentine
way,
to
be
right
before
us.
"Look!
Isten
 szek!"‐‐"God’s
seat!"‐‐and
he
crossed
himself
reverently.
As
we
wound
on
our
endless
way,
 and
the
sun
sank
lower
and
lower
behind
us,
the
shadows
of
the
evening
began
to
creep
 round
us.
This
was
emphasized
by
the
fact
that
the
snowy
mountain‐top
still
held
the
sunset,
 and
seemed
to
glow
out
with
a
delicate
cool
pink.
Here
and
there
we
passed
Cszeks
and
 slovaks,
all
in
picturesque
attire,
but
I
noticed
that
goitre
was
painfully
prevalent.
By
the
 roadside
were
many
crosses,
and
as
we
swept
by,
my
companions
all
crossed
themselves.
 Here
and
there
was
a
peasant
man
or
woman
kneeling
before
a
shrine,
who
did
not
even
 turn
round
as
we
approached,
but
seemed
in
the
self‐surrender
of
devotion
to
have
neither
 eyes
nor
ears
for
the
outer
world.
There
were
many
things
new
to
me.
For
instance,
hay‐ ricks
in
the
trees,
and
here
and
there
very
beautiful
masses
of
weeping
birch,
their
white
 stems
shining
like
silver
through
the
delicate
green
of
the
leaves.
Now
and
again
we
passed
a
 leiter‐wagon‐‐the
ordinary
peasants’s
cart‐‐with
its
long,
snakelike
vertebra,
calculated
to
 suit
the
inequalities
of
the
road.
On
this
were
sure
to
be
seated
quite
a
group
of
 homecoming
peasants,
the
Cszeks
with
their
white,
and
the
Slovaks
with
their
coloured
 sheepskins,
the
latter
carrying
lance‐fashion
their
long
staves,
with
axe
at
end.
As
the
 evening
fell
it
began
to
get
very
cold,
and
the
growing
twilight
seemed
to
merge
into
one
 dark
mistiness
the
gloom
of
the
trees,
oak,
beech,
and
pine,
though
in
the
valleys
which
ran
 deep
between
the
spurs
of
the
hills,
as
we
ascended
through
the
Pass,
the
dark
firs
stood
 out
here
and
there
against
the
background
of
late‐lying
snow.
Sometimes,
as
the
road
was
 cut
through
the
pine
woods
that
seemed
in
the
darkness
to
be
closing
down
upon
us,
great
 masses
of
greyness
which
here
and
there
bestrewed
the
trees,
produced
a
peculiarly
weird
 and
solemn
effect,
which
carried
on
the
thoughts
and
grim
fancies
engendered
earlier
in
the
 evening,
when
the
falling
sunset
threw
into
strange
relief
the
ghost‐like
clouds
which
 amongst
the
Carpathians
seem
to
wind
ceaselessly
through
the
valleys.
Sometimes
the
hills
 were
so
steep
that,
despite
our
driver’s
haste,
the
horses
could
only
go
slowly.
I
wished
to


get
down
and
walk
up
them,
as
we
do
at
home,
but
the
driver
would
not
hear
of
it.
"No,
no,"
 he
said.
"You
must
not
walk
here.
The
dogs
are
too
fierce."
And
then
he
added,
with
what
he
 evidently
meant
for
grim
pleasantry‐‐ for
he
looked
round
to
catch
the
approving
smile
of
the
 rest ‐‐"And
you
may
have
enough
of
such
matters
before
you
go
to
sleep."
The
only
stop
he
 would
make
was
a
moment’s
pause
to
light
his
lamps.
When
it
grew
dark
there
seemed
to
 be
some
excitement
amongst
the
passengers,
and
they
kept
speaking
to
him,
one
after
the
 other,
as
though
urging
him
to
further
speed.
He
lashed
the
horses
unmercifully
with
his
 long
whip,
and
with
wild
cries
of
encouragement
urged
them
on
to
further
exertions.
Then
 through
the
darkness
I
could
see
a
sort
of
patch
of
grey
light
ahead
of
us,
as
though
there
 were
a
cleft
in
the
hills.
The
excitement
of
the
passengers
grew
greater.
The
crazy
coach
 rocked
on
its
great
leather
springs,
and
swayed
like
a
boat
tossed
on
a
stormy
sea.
I
had
to
 hold
on.
The
road
grew
more
level,
and
we
appeared
to
fly
along.
Then
the
mountains
 seemed
to
come
nearer
to
us
on
each
side
and
to
frown
down
upon
us.
We
were
entering
 on
the
Borgo
Pass.
One
by
one
several
of
the
passengers
offered
me
gifts,
which
they
 pressed
upon
me
with
an
earnestness
which
would
take
no
denial.
These
were
certainly
of
 an
odd
and
varied
kind,
but
each
was
given
in
simple
good
faith,
with
a
kindly
word,
and
a
 blessing,
and
that
same
strange
mixture
of
fear‐meaning
movements
which
I
had
seen
 outside
the
hotel
at
Bistritz‐‐the
sign
of
the
cross
and
the
guard
against
the
evil
eye.
Then,
as
 we
flew
along,
the
driver
leaned
forward,
and
on
each
side
the
passengers,
craning
over
the
 edge
of
the
coach,
peered
eagerly
into
the
darkness.
It
was
evident
that
something
very
 exciting
was
either
happening
or
expected,
but
though
I
asked
each
passenger,
no
one
 would
give
me
the
slightest
explanation.
This
state
of
excitement
kept
on
for
some
little
 time.
And
at
last
we
saw
before
us
the
Pass
opening
out
on
the
eastern
side.
There
were
 dark,
rolling
clouds
overhead,
and
in
the
air
the
heavy,
oppressive
sense
of
thunder.
It
 seemed
as
though
the
mountain
range
had
separated
two
atmospheres,
and
that
now
we
 had
got
into
the
thunderous
one.
I
was
now
myself
looking
out
for
the
conveyance
which
 was
to
take
me
to
the
Count.
Each
moment
I
expected
to
see
the
glare
of
lamps
through
the
 blackness,
but
all
was
dark.
The
only
light
was
the
flickering
rays
of
our
own
lamps,
in
which
 the
steam
from
our
hard‐ driven
horses
rose
in
a
white
cloud.
We
could
see
now
the
sandy
 road
lying
white
before
us,
but
there
was
on
it
no
sign
of
a
vehicle.
The
passengers
drew
 back
with
a
sigh
of
gladness,
which
seemed
to
mock
my
own
disappointment.
I
was
already
 thinking
what
I
had
best
do,
when
the
driver,
looking
at
his
watch,
said
to
the
others
 something
which
I
could
hardly
hear,
it
was
spoken
so
quietly
and
in
so
low
a
tone,
I
thought
 it
was
"An
hour
less
than
the
time."
Then
turning
to
me,
he
spoke
in
German
worse
than
my
 own.
"There
is
no
carriage
here.
The
Herr
is
not
expected
after
all.
He
will
now
come
on
to
 Bukovina,
and
return
tomorrow
or
the
next
day,
better
the
next
day."
Whilst
he
was
 speaking
the
horses
began
to
neigh
and
snort
and
plunge
wildly,
so
that
the
driver
had
to
 hold
them
up.
Then,
amongst
a
chorus
of
screams
from
the
peasants
and
a
universal
 crossing
of
themselves,
a
caleche,
with
four
horses,
drove
up
behind
us,
overtook
us,
and
 drew
up
beside
the
coach.
I
could
see
from
the
flash
of
our
lamps
as
the
rays
fell
on
them,
 that
the
horses
were
coal‐black
and
splendid
animals.
They
were
driven
by
a
tall
man,
with
a
 long
brown
beard
and
a
great
black
hat,
which
seemed
to
hide
his
face
from
us.
I
could
only
 see
the
gleam
of
a
pair
of
very
bright
eyes,
which
seemed
red
in
the
lamplight,
as
he
turned
 to
us.
He
said
to
the
driver,
"You
are
early
tonight,
my
friend."
The
man
stammered
in
reply,
 "The
English
Herr
was
in
a
hurry."
To
which
the
stranger
replied,
"That
is
why,
I
suppose,
you
 wished
him
t o
go
on
to
Bukovina.
You
cannot
deceive
me,
my
friend.
I
know
too
much,
and
 my
horses
are
swift."
As
he
spoke
he
smiled,
and
the
lamplight
fell
on
a
hard‐looking
mouth,
 with
very
red
lips
and
sharp‐looking
teeth,
as
white
as
ivory.
One
of
my
companions
 whispered
to
another
the
line
from
Burger’s
"Lenore".
"Denn
die
Todten
reiten
Schnell."
 ("For
the
dead
travel
fast.")
The
strange
driver
evidently
heard
the
words,
for
he
looked
up
 with
a
gleaming
smile.
The
passenger
turned
his
face
away,
at
the
same
time
putting
out
his


two
fingers
and
crossing
himself.
"Give
me
the
Herr’s
luggage,"
said
the
driver,
and
with
 exceeding
alacrity
my
bags
were
handed
out
and
put
in
the
caleche.
Then
I
descended
from
 the
side
of
the
coach,
as
the
caleche
was
close
alongside,
the
driver
helping
me
with
a
hand
 which
caught
my
arm
in
a
grip
of
steel.
His
strength
must
have
been
prodigious.
Without
a
 word
he
shook
his
reins,
the
horses
turned,
and
we
swept
into
the
darkness
of
the
pass.
As
I
 looked
back
I
saw
the
steam
from
the
horses
of
the
coach
by
the
light
of
the
lamps,
and
 projected
against
it
the
figures
of
my
late
companions
crossing
themselves.
Then
the
driver
 cracked
his
whip
and
called
to
his
horses,
and
off
they
swept
on
their
way
to
Bukovina.
As
 they
sank
into
the
darkness
I
felt
a
strange
chill,
and
a
lonely
feeling
come
over
me.
But
a
 cloak
was
thrown
over
my
shoulders,
and
a
rug
across
my
knees,
and
the
driver
said
in
 excellent
German‐‐"The
night
is
chill,
mein
Herr,
and
my
master
the
Count
bade
me
take
all
 care
of
you.
There
is
a
flask
of
slivovitz
(the
plum
brandy
of
the
country)
underneath
the
 seat,
if
you
should
require
it."
I
did
not
take
any,
but
it
was
a
comfort
to
know
it
was
there
all
 the
same.
I
felt
a
little
strangely,
and
not
a
little
frightened.
I
think
had
there
been
any
 alternative
I
should
have
taken
it,
instead
of
prosecuting
that
unknown
night
journey.
The
 carriage
went
at
a
hard
pace
straight
along,
then
we
made
a
complete
turn
and
went
along
 another
straight
road.
It
seemed
to
me
that
we
were
simply
going
over
and
over
the
same
 ground
again,
and
so
I
took
note
of
some
salient
point,
and
found
that
this
was
so.
I
would
 have
liked
to
have
asked
the
driver
what
this
all
meant,
but
I
really
feared
to
do
so,
for
I
 thought
that,
placed
as
I
was,
any
protest
would
have
had
no
effect
in
case
there
had
been
 an
intention
to
delay.
By‐and ‐by,
however,
as
I
was
curious
to
know
how
time
was
passing,
I
 struck
a
match,
and
by
its
flame
looked
at
my
watch.
It
was
within
a
few
minutes
of
 midnight.
This
gave
me
a
sort
of
shock,
for
I
suppose
the
general
superstition
about
midnight
 was
increased
by
my
recent
experiences.
I
waited
with
a
sick
feeling
of
suspense.
Then
a
dog
 began
to
howl
somewhere
in
a
farmhouse
far
down
the
road,
a
long,
agonized
wailing,
as
if
 from
fear.
The 
sound
was
taken
up
by
another
dog,
and
then
another
and
another,
till,
 borne
on
the
wind
which
now
sighed
softly
through
the
Pass,
a
wild
howling
began,
which
 seemed
to
come
from
all
over
the
country,
as
far
as
the
imagination
could
grasp
it
through
 the
g loom
of
the
night.
At
the
first
howl
the
horses
began
to
strain
and
rear,
but
the
driver
 spoke
to
them
soothingly,
and
they
quieted
down,
but
shivered
and
sweated
as
though
after
 a
runaway
from
sudden
fright.
Then,
far
off
in
the
distance,
from
the
mountains
on
each
side
 of
us
began
a
louder
and
a
sharper
howling,
that
of
wolves,
which
affected
both
the
horses
 and
myself
in
the
same
way.
For
I
was
minded
to
jump
from
the
caleche
and
run,
whilst
they
 reared
again
and
plunged
madly,
so
that
the
driver
had
to
use
all
his
great
strength
to
keep
 them
from
bolting.
In
a
few
minutes,
however,
my
own
ears
got
accustomed
to
the
sound,
 and
the
horses
so
far
became
quiet
that
the
driver
was
able
to
descend
and
to
stand
before
 them.
He
petted
and
soothed
them,
and
whispered
something
in
their
ears,
as
I
have
heard
 of
horse‐tamers
doing,
and
with
extraordinary
effect,
for
under
his
caresses
they
became
 quite
manageable
again,
though
they
still
trembled.
The
driver
again
took
his
seat,
and
 shaking
his
reins,
started
off
at
a
great
pace.
This
time,
after
going
to
the
far
side
of
the
Pass,
 he
suddenly
turned
down
a
narrow
roadway
which
ran
sharply
to
the
right.
Soon
we
were
 hemmed
in
with
trees,
which
in
places
arched
right
over
the
roadway
till
we
passed
as
 through
a
tunnel.
And
again
great
frowning
rocks
guarded
us
boldly
on
either
side.
Though
 we
were
in
shelter,
we
could
hear
the
rising
wind,
for
it
moaned
and
whistled
through
the
 rocks,
and
the
branches
of
the
trees
crashed
together
as
we
swept
along.
It
grew
colder
and
 colder
still,
and
fine,
powdery
snow
began
to
fall,
so
that
soon
we
and
all
around
us
were
 covered
with
a
white
blanket.
The
keen
wind
still
carried
the
howling
of
the
dogs,
though
 this
grew
fainter
as
we
went
on
our
way.
The
baying
of
the
wolves
sounded
nearer
and
 nearer,
as
though
they
were
closing
round
on
us
from
every
side.
I
grew
dreadfully
afraid,
 and
the
horses
shared
my
fear.
The
driver,
however,
was
not
in
the
least
disturbed.
He
kept
 turning
his
head
to
left
and
right,
but
I
could
not
see
anything
through
the
darkness.


Suddenly,
away
on
our
left
I
saw
a
faint
flickering
blue
flame.
The
driver
saw
it
at
the
same
 moment.
He
at
once
checked
the
horses,
and,
jumping
to
the
ground,
disappeared
into
the
 darkness.
I
did
not
know
what
to
do,
the
less
as
the
howling
of
the
wolves
grew
closer.
But
 while
I
wondered,
the
driver
suddenly
appeared
again,
and
without
a
word
took
his
seat,
 and
we
resumed
our
journey.
I
think
I
must
have
fallen
asleep
and
kept
dreaming
of
the
 incident,
for
it
seemed
to
be
repeated
endlessly,
and
now
looking
back,
it
is
like
a
sort
of
 awful
nightmare.
Once
the
flame
appeared
so
near
the
road,
that
even
in
the
darkness
 around
us
I
could
watch
the
driver’s
motions.
He
went
rapidly
to
where
the
blue
flame
 arose,
it
must
have
been
very
faint,
for
it
did
not
seem
to
illumine
the
place
around
it
at
all,
 and
gathering
a
few
stones,
formed
them
into
some
device.
Once
there
appeared
a
strange
 optical
effect.
When
he
stood
between
me
and
the
flame
he
did
not
obstruct
it,
for
I
could
 see
its
ghos tly
flicker
all
the
same.
This
startled
me,
but
as
the
effect
was
only
momentary,
I
 took
it
that
my
eyes
deceived
me
straining
through
the
darkness.
Then
for
a
time
there
were
 no
blue
flames,
and
we
sped
onwards
through
the
gloom,
with
the
howling
of
the
wolves
 around
us,
as
though
they
were
following
in
a
moving
circle.
At
last
there
came
a
time
when
 the
driver
went
further
afield
than
he
had
yet
gone,
and
during
his
absence,
the
horses
 began
to
tremble
worse
than
ever
and
to
snort
and
scream
with
fright.
I
could
not
see
any
 cause
for
it,
for
the
howling
of
the
wolves
had
ceased
altogether.
But
just
then
the
moon,
 sailing
through
the
black
clouds,
appeared
behind
the
jagged
crest
of
a
beetling,
pine‐clad
 rock,
and
by
its
light
I
saw
around
us
a
ring
of
wolves,
with
white
teeth
and
lolling
red
 tongues,
with
long,
sinewy
limbs
and
shaggy
hair.
They
were
a
hundred
times
more
terrible
 in
the
grim
silence
which
held
them
than
even
when
they
howled.
For
myself,
I
felt
a
sort
of
 paralysis
of
fear.
It
is
only
when
a 
man
feels
himself
face
to
face
with
such
horrors
that
he
 can
understand
their
true
import.
All
at
once
the
wolves
began
to
howl
as
though
the
 moonlight
had
had
some
peculiar
effect
on
them.
The
horses
jumped
about
and
reared,
and
 looked
helplessly
round
with
eyes
that
rolled
in
a
way
painful
to
see.
But
the
living
ring
of
 terror
encompassed
them
on
every
side,
and
they
had
perforce
to
remain
within
it.
I
called
 to
the
coachman
to
come,
for
it
seemed
to
me
that
our
only
chance
was
to
try
to
break
out
 throug h
the
ring
and
to
aid
his
approach,
I
shouted
and
beat
the
side
of
the
caleche,
hoping
 by
the
noise
to
scare
the
wolves
from
the
side,
so
as
to
give
him
a
chance
of
reaching
the
 trap.
How
he
came
there,
I
know
not,
but
I
heard
his
voice
raised
in
a
tone
of
imperious
 command,
and
looking
towards
the
sound,
saw
him
stand
in
the
roadway.
As
he
swept
his
 long
arms,
as
though
brushing
aside
some
impalpable
obstacle,
the
wolves
fell
back
and
back
 further
still.
Just
then
a
heavy
cloud
passed
across
the
face
of
the
moon,
so
that
we
were
 again
in
darkness.
When
I
could
see
again
the
driver
was
climbing
into
the
caleche,
and
the
 wolves
disappeared.
This
was
all
so
strange
and
uncanny
that
a
dreadful
fear
came
upon
me,
 and
I
was
afraid
to
speak
or
move.
The
time
seemed
interminable
as
we
swept
on
our
way,
 now
in
almost
complete
darkness,
for
the
rolling
clouds
obscured
the
moon.
We
kept
on
 ascending,
with
occasional
periods
of
quick
descent,
but
in
the
main
always
ascending.
 Suddenly,
I
became
conscious
of
the
fact
that
the
driver
was
in
the
act
of
pulling
up
the
 horses
in
the
courtyard
of
a
vast
ruined
castle,
from
whose
tall
black
windows
came
no
ray
 of
light,
and
whose
broken
battlements
showed
a
jagged
line
against
the
sky.



Copy
this
chapter
into
word
or
another
program
that
allows
you
to
annotate
the
text.
Work
 in
pairs
to
annotate
the
text.
Provide
information
about
the
gothic
elements
in
the
story,
 contextual
notes
as
well
as
interesting
notes
about
the
text
itself
including
an
analysis
of
the
 use
of
techniques. 
If
you
can,
include
images
and
sound
effects
or
music
to
add
to
the
 experience.
You
can
design
these
images
or
compose
the
music
or
sorce
them
(legally)
from
 the
internet.



If
you
wish
to
challenge
yourself
further,
you
may
choose
to
do
a
different
chapter
from
the


novel.
They
are
reasonably
easy
to
find
on
the
internet.



Compose
a
letter
from
Dracula
to
someone
inviting
them
to
his
castle.
You
may
need
to
some


research
into
how
Dracular
may
speak,
how
a
letter
should
be
formatted
and
how
to
express


youself
creatively.



You
have
been
asked
to
write
a
pitch
for
a
new
Dracula
film.
Consider
the
vampire
film


adaptations
you
have
seen
in
class.
What
can
you
differently?
How
can
you
differentiate
your


film
from
what
has
been
done
and
the
current
Twilight
trend?
How
would
you
cast
the
film?


Where
would
you
film
it?
What
elements
from
Dracula
would
you
focus
on
and
what
effect


would
you
hope
to
have?
What
changes
would
you
like
to
make?



Formulate
your
pitch
into
a
formal
letter
to
a
specific
production
company.
You
may
need
to


do some research in how to write a pitching letter and your chosen production company.

King Verence Becomes A Ghost – Terry Pratchett

The
following
is
a
conversation
between
a
king
who
has
just
been
murdered
and
Death,
who


has
arrived
to
tell
the
king
that
he
must
become
a
ghost.



YOU’RE
UNDEAD,
YOU
SEE.
GHOSTS
INHABIT
A
WORLD
BETWEEN
THE
LIVING
AND
THE
DEAD.
IT’S


NOT
MY
RESPONSIBILITY.
He
patted
the
king
on
the
shoulder.
DON’T
WORRY,
he
sad,
IT
WON’T
BE


FOREVER.



‘Good.’


IT
MAY
SEEM
LIKE
FOREVER.



‘How
long
will
it
really
be?’


UNTIL
YOU
HAVE
FULFILLED
YOUR
DESTINY,
I
ASSUME.



‘And
how
will
I
know
what
my
destiny
is?’
said
the
king,
desperately.



CAN’T
HELP
THERE.
I’M
SORRY.



‘Wel,
how
can
I
find
out?’


THESE
THINGS
GENERALLY
BECOME
APPAREN T,
I
UNDERSTAND,
said
Death,
and
swung
himself
into
 the
saddle.



‘And
until
then
I
have
to
haunt
this
place.’
King
Verence
stared
around
at
the
draghty
battlements.
 ‘All
alone
I
suppose.
Won’t
anyone
be
able
to
see
me?’ 


OH
THE
PSYCHICALLY
INCLINED.
CLOSE
RELATIVES.
AND
CATS,
OF
COURSE.



The
kind
stared
gloomily
at
the
dawn.
His
dogs.
He’d
really
miss
his
dogs.
And
it
looked
like
such
a


good
hunting
day.



He
wondered
if
ghosts
hunted.
Almost
certainly
not,
he
imagined.
Or
ate,
or
drank
either
for
that
 matter ,
and
that
was
really
depressing.
He
liked
a
big
noisy
banquet
and
had
quaffed*
many
a
good
 pint
of
good
ale.



He
kicked
despondently
at
a
stone,
and
noted
gloomily
that
his
foot
went
right
through
it.
No
 hunting,
drinking,
carousing,
no
wassailing,
no
haw king,
it
was
dawning
on
him
that
the
pleasures
of
 the
flesh
were
pretty
sparse
without
flesh.
Suddenly
life
wasn’t
worth
living.
The
fact
that
he
wasn’t
 living
it
didn’t
cheer
him
up
at
all.



SOME
PEOPLE
LIKE
TO
BE
GHOSTS,
sad
Death.



‘Hmm?’
said
Verence,
gloomily.



IT’S
NOT
SUCH
A
WRENCH,
I
ASSUME.
THEY
CAN
SEE
HOW
THEIR
DESCENDANTS
GET
ON.



*Quaffing
is
like
drinking,
but
you
spill
more.



From
Wyrd
Sisters
by
Terry
Pratchett


How
does
Death
describe
ghosts?
What
genre‐based
form
does
this
imply
the
text
is?


(Appropriation/Subverted
Readings/Intertextuality)
How
so?


What
do
you
think
Verence’s
destiny
might
be?
What
makes
you
think
this?
Write
a
short


scene
where
Verence
finds
out/realises
his
destiny.
How
does
he
figure
this
out?
How
long


has
he
been
dead
for?
How
does
he
feel
about
his
destiny?


Write A Gothic Story

Assignment:
Write
a
short
story
utilising
the
elements
of
the
Gothic
Horror
Genre


Hints 


Setting
the
scene


Begin
your
story
with
up
to
two
paragraphs
setting
the
initial
scene
(this
does
not
mean
you


can’t
add
more
later!).
What
is
frightening?
How
is
your
character
reacting
to
the
setting?



The
spooky
character


Include
a
description
of
the
place’s
reputation.
Why
does
it
strike
fear
into
people?


Something
evil
is
lurking.
Is
the
place
haunted
by
ghosts,
the
home
of
a
vampire,
the
lair
of
a


werewolf?


The
character’s
feelings


Describe
how
your
character
feels
at
the
beginning
of
the
story.
Nervous?
Excited?
Brave?


What
happens
to
suddenly
frighten
him
or
her?
Write
about
how
his
or
her
feelings
change


because
of
the
events
that
take
place.



Build
up
suspense


Use
short
sentences,
and
drag
out
the
events
in
the
last
couple
of
paragraphs.



The
end


Your
ending
should
be
strong.
Think
about
whether
you
will
reveal
all,
or
leave
your
readers


guessing
about
the
true
nature
of
the
gothic
place.
You
could
end
the
story
with
a
cliff‐

hanger
or
a
twist.



Vampire Handbook

Vampire Handbook 24

Setting the Scene

Setting the Scene 25

The Castle

The Castle 26

Frankenstein’s Monster




Creating A Monster

Mary
Shelley
wrote
Frankenstein
in
1818,
when
she
was
still
a
teenager.
It
is
a
classic
story


of
the
mad
professor
creating
a
monster
he
cannot
control.



Read
the
passage
carefully
and
answer
the
following
questions:



1. How
does
the
narrator
describe
the
setting
before
the
monster
awakes?
What
kind


of
atmosphere
is
created
by
this
description?



2. In
your
own
words,
explain
the
first
three
things
the
monster
does
when
it
comes
to


life.



3. In
the
second
paragraph
the
moster
is
described
in
detail.
It
does
have
some


attractive
features.
What
are?
Why
do
you
think
Shelley
included
these?
What
effect


does
it
have?



4. Write
your
own
description
of
Frankenstein’s
monster.
You
should
consider
the


following:


Its
hair


Its
teeth


How
its
skin
looks


Its
eyes
and
sockets 


The
colour
of
its
lips


5. Dr.
Frankenstein
runs
away
form
the
monster.
Explain
in
detail
why
you
think
he


does
this.
You
may
need
to
do
some
more
research
about
the
whole
story
to
answer


this.



Imagin
you,
like
Dr.
Frankenstein,
have
created
a
monster.
Write
a
description
of
the
moment


it
woke
up.



Try
to
include
the
following:


A
spooky
setting
for
your
tale.



Describe
in
detail
what
the
monster
looks,
smalls,
feels
and
sounds
like.
Does
it
speak


to
you?
How
does
it
move?



Describe
your
own
feelins
when
you
see
the
monster
come
alive.