Dracula Creative Writing

“Josef, you never venture out into those woods, ever!” Those were the words I had heard numerous times over the past few days, ever since I had gained the knowledge that my mom and I live in the backyard of the infamous vampire Count Dracula. The problem is that I, without a doubt, want to meet him. My mother, Maria, a loving, but protecting mom, seems to have a problem with that, but I have no clue why. “Josef, time to eat!” As I sat down at the old, wooden dinner table, I started to think long and hard. Between bites of porridge, I asked my mother- “Mom, why can’t…….. I go……….. into the…….. woods.” “Because Josef, I’ve told you many times before, it’s just too dangerous for little boys like you. I don’t want you to harm yourself.” “But

Then, I creeped out of the house, quiet as a church mouse, making sure the old maple door wouldn’t creek. The cold, midnight air shocked me, like a firm slap to the cheek. As I descended into the dark valley, with a thick fog starting to settle over the forest like a warm blanket, I started to get the chills. They rattled down my spine, sounding like an old car’s engine. The wind continued to howl through the ravine, but I kept going. As I turned the corner, I saw it. Dracula’s mansion. It had dark windows, and made shadows that resembled spirits dancing in the cold night. I came to the front, which said, “Enter if you dare.” I snickered to myself, in such, pitying the man. When I opened the door, all I saw were cobwebs, everywhere. They covered everything, making the walls white, like snow. The dim lighting in the foyer made the room especially eerie. There was a dark staircase leading upstairs straight ahead of me, so that’s where I proceeded to. The corridor was dark, with hardly any visibility, but at the end, there was a sign. It looked to be written in blood, human blood. It said “To the catacombs, with an arrow pointing right. To the ****, with an arrow pointing left.” I decided to turn left, hoping to find my target. I opened the door, which squeaked like a tire that needed oiling. It led to a dark passageway, which had pictures depicting old men