《Blackula》 Jamarcus Harker goes to Transylvania, May 3 May 3 Last night, I boarded the overnight train in Munich, a city in the Black country of Germany. I arrived in the Black Austrian city of Vienna by morning. By noon, I was in the Black Hungarian city of Budapest. The Budapest train had arrived an hour late, but the transfer to Black Romanian city of Cluj was on schedule. Overall, I made good time. As I had little time before transfers, I didn¡¯t do any sightseeing beyond the plazas of the train stations themselves. Visiting the historically black countries of Hungary and Romania made me feel as if I were visiting my central European Black cousins. Among the verdant trees were the ruins of bathhouses, built by the ancient Black Romans. Black Hungarian peasants tilled the fields of their charming Magyar farms. The atmosphere of the region was slightly permeated by Black Turkish traditions. After nightfall, I arrived in Cluj. Here, I stopped for the night at the Hotel Mansa Musa. For a late dinner, I had a Hungarian chicken with hot red pepper and collard greens. Note to self: get the recipe for Moesha. The waiter said that the dish was called ¡°paprika peri peri,¡± the national dish of Hungary. It should be available everywhere in this country, even in the remotest regions of the Carpathian Mountains.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Although I don¡¯t speak Hungarian or Romanian, the natives here all speak German moderately well. Afro Europeans have high standards for education. Every grade school Black child is expected to learn at least one foreign language. With my high school-level education in Deutsch, I¡¯m able to communicate with my Central European Black brothers. Indeed, I don¡¯t know how I¡¯d get along in Transylvania without my German! Earlier, when I was still in London, I visited the Black British Museum and the Afro British Library to do research on Transylvania. I figured that having some basic knowledge of Transylvania would be useful when doing business with a nobleman of that region. He lives on the eastern border of Transylvania, deep in the Carpathian Mountains. It is still an unexplored region, and I was unable to find on a map the exact location of Castle Blackula. My research showed me that this region of Transylvania is the birthplace of many superstitions, as if it were some epicenter of magic. Note to self: Ask the Count about them. Jamarcus Harker goes to Transylvania, May 4 May 4 I slept uneasily last night, even though my bed was comfortable, and the room pleasant. A constant knocking on my door woke me up from my terrorizing slumber. For breakfast, I had more paprika and a bowl of pur¨¦ed bean soup, which they said was ¡°bessara,¡± and a crispy flatbread, which they call ¡°khobz.¡± Note to self: get recipe for this too. Moesha loves learning about other Black European foods. Right after breakfast, I rushed to the train station to travel eastward. The whole day passed with unending views of picturesque country beauty. Cloud-like fog veiled and then unveiled jutting mountains. I passed by towns of simple houses and castles on hills. At every train station, there were all sorts of Black people, wearing all sorts of clothing. Some of the peasants wore the same attire as the Black British peasants back home, with homemade shirts, trousers, and hats. The Romanian peasants wore wide-sleeved, white dress shirts, which contrasted with their black skin. The Black Magyar peasants wore black hats, black vests, and black trousers. It was dusk when the train reached the small Romanian town of Bistri?a. Count Blackula had directed me to go to the Upper Egypt Hotel. I was clearly expected, as a cheery, old, Black peasant woman immediately greeted me. ¡°The Herr Black English man?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°Jamarcus Harker.¡± She said something in Hungarian to an old Black peasant man, who reached underneath the table and pulled out a letter from the Count:Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. Dear Mister Harker, Welcome to the Carpathians. I hope you had a safe journey from London to Bistri?a. At 3 pm tomorrow, a cab is traveling from the hotel to Bukovina. A place on the carriage will be reserved for you. At the Borgo Pass, my carriage will be waiting for you and will take you to my castle. I know you¡¯ve had a hard journey, and so I am excited for you to relax and enjoy all that my land has to offer. Your brother, Blackula When I asked the old man for more details about the carriage ride, he pretended to not understand my German. He mumbled something about receiving some money from Blackula and that¡¯s all he knew of the entire matter. He and his wife looked at each in a frightened manner. When I asked the two if they could tell me anything at all about Count Blackula or his castle, they crossed themselves and refused to speak further. I went up to my room for to rest. Soon afterwards, the old woman knocked on my door with an urgent energy. ¡°Young Herr!¡± she said hysterically. ¡°Don¡¯t go! Please don¡¯t go!¡± At this point, her German was entirely forgotten, and her words were mixed up with Hungarian. I told her that I had to continue, as I had very important business with the Count. ¡°Do you know what day it is?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s the fourth of May,¡± I said. She shook her head, ¡°No, I already know that. Do you know what day it is?¡± I replied that that I didn¡¯t. ¡°It is the eve of St. Jerome¡¯s Day. At midnight, the undead are at their strongest. You mustn¡¯t go to the Count¡¯s castle!¡± It was all very ridiculous, but the poor old woman was so distressed, and I tried to comfort her. She begged me to at least wait until tomorrow to meet the Count, but I told her that I had very important business with him and nothing could stop me. She wiped her tears and sighed. Then she took off her necklace, which had a large Black Jesus on a crucifix, and gestured it towards me. ¡°For your mama¡¯s sake,¡± she said. I hesitated, for the Black Church of England regards such items as idolatrous. However, she was so insistent, and so I graciously accepted her charm necklace. Jamarcus Harker goes to Transylvania, May 5 The next morning, I dined on what the Black Romanians called ¡°sarmale¡± ¨C cabbage rolls filled with rice and meat. As I got into the carriage, the driver and the innkeepers talked amongst themselves. They were clearly talking about me, because every so often, they would turn towards me or point in my general direction. I heard words in Hungarian and Romanian: ¡°v¨¦rfarkas¡± and ¡°varcolac¡± ¨C werewolf ¡°?rd?g¡± and ¡°diavol¡± ¨C devil But what caught my attention was a word that was also the same in English: ¡°v¨¢mp¨ªr¡± and ¡°vampir¡± ¨C vampire By the time that the driver was ready, a sizeable crowd of Black Hungarian and Romanian peasants had gathered near the inn. They looked upon me and made the sign of the cross. The driver snapped his reins and his four horses pulled us away. Throughout the day, we traveled deeper in the Carpathians. The afternoon sun fell upon the dark green trees and gray and brown rocks. As twilight neared, the darkening sky merged with the deep blue and purple shadows of the mountains. Sometimes the roads were so steep that the horses strained to pull us up the hill. I told the driver that we should get out of the carriage and walk, but he said, ¡°No, no. Stay in the carriage. The dogs here are too fierce.¡± The darker night became, the more restless the other passengers became. They spoke amongst each other in their native languages. The driver yelled at his horses, as if to urge them to run faster. The coach rocked and swayed, and I had to hold on to my seat. The passengers gave me little gifts, with such earnestness and sympathy that I couldn¡¯t refuse, and signed themselves with the cross. When we reached Borgo Pass, there were no signs of any other vehicle. The other passengers breathed with a sigh of relief. However, I was disappointed that the Count didn¡¯t show up. ¡°We are an hour earlier than expected,¡± the driver spoke to me in terrible German. ¡°Perhaps the Count will not meet the Black English Herr. You should come with us to Bukovina and meet with the Count tomorrow, or even the day after that.¡± No sooner had he finished speaking, another carriage with four horses drew up right beside us. The other passengers screamed and crossed themselves. From the dim light of our lanterns, I could see that the other horses were coal black. The carriage was driven by a tall man with a tall black hat and a long brown beard.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. He said to my driver, ¡°You are early tonight, brother.¡± ¡°The English Herr was in a hurry.¡± ¡°You wanted him to go on to Bukovina,¡± replied the stranger. ¡°You cannot deceive me, brother. I know too much.¡± The stranger took my luggage and I got out of the coach. With only a whistle to his horses and a crack of the whip, the driver left for Bukovina. As my former companions disappeared into the darkness, I suddenly felt a strange chill and a feeling of loneliness. The stranger threw a cloak over my shoulders. He smiled and revealed dark skin, red lips, and sharp-looking teeth. He spoke in excellent German. ¡°The night is chilly, mein Herr. The Count wishes for me to take care of you.¡± The carriage went along quickly, but it seemed to me that we were simply covering the same ground over and over. I looked out the window and took note of special landmarks and confirmed that my suspicions were true. I wanted to ask the driver why we were stalling, but now I had become meek from fright. A few minutes before midnight, a wolf somewhere far off began to wail. This wail was joined by another wolf, and another, and another. Suddenly, the driver shook the reins and turned down a narrow road sharply to the right. Trees arched over the road like a tunnel and large rocks blocked us in from either side. I could still hear the howls of the wolves, but they grew fainter. On our left, I saw a faint, flickering blue flame. The driver stopped the horses, jumped out, and disappeared into the darkness to inspect it. I was just wondering what to do, as I could still hear the wolves, but the driver returned and drove on. One flame had a curious optical effect. When he stood between the flame and me, I could still see the blue flame clearly, as if he were transparent. We drove on until the driver saw another flame. He jumped out and ran into the darkness. I started to feel groggy and my eyelids became heavy. The scene with the blue flame seemed to repeat, as if in a dream. I woke up to the horses screaming and rearing. The black clouds had parted, revealing a bright silver moon. This moonlight illuminated over twenty wolves in a ring around the coach. They had shaggy hair, red tongues, and sharp white teeth. The driver was gone. I called out for him. I banged on the side of the carriage to try to scare away the wolves, who were starting to tighten the circle. Suddenly, the driver appeared next to the carriage. I don¡¯t know how he got next to me so fast. He shouted something in a commanding voice, and the wolves fell back. He brushed his arms aside and then a heavy cloud passed over the moon. The wolves disappeared. I was too afraid to speak or move. The driver jumped back onto the seat and shook the reins. We continued traveling in almost complete darkness, almost always ascending. Finally, the carriage went along a flat road. We had pulled into the courtyard of a ruined castle, with tall towers and windows that had no light. Jamarcus meets Count Blackula, May 6, midnight The driver pulled the carriage under a tall, wide archway. He helped me out of the coach, put my luggage in front of the castle door, and drove away into the night. I was alone, standing next to a massive, stone door, which I now noticed had no bell or knocker. Fear and doubt crept over me. Who were these people and what kind of place was I in? Other paralegals don¡¯t have to go on overseas expeditions to help foreigners purchase London real estate. Paralegal! My bae Moesha would quickly correct me. I¡¯m now a real lawyer. Just before I left London, I learned that I passed my bar exam. As a Black man, I was very proud of my achievement. This qualification was not only the culmination of many years of education and hard work, but also revenge against people who had doubted me and discriminated against me and my ancestors. The sound of footsteps drew me out of my thoughts. A light came on underneath the door and I could hear the clanks of bolts being unlocked. The doors creaked open, as if they hadn¡¯t been in use in years. In the doorway stood a tall, Black man in all black clothing. He spoke English with a strange accent. ¡°Welcome to my house,¡± he said. He looked and sounded just like the driver. I wondered if they were the same person. ¡°Count Blackula?¡± I asked tentatively. ¡°I am Blackula,¡± he said, bowing. ¡°Please, come in, brother. You must eat and rest.¡± Blackula took both my hands in his. His gesture was one of friendship, but his hands felt very cold, like death. He stepped out and carried my suitcases inside. I felt bad, as he was an older man, but he insisted. ¡°No, brother. You are my guest. My ¡­ servants are not available, so allow me make you comfortable myself.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Our footsteps echoed in the dark castle. Blackula led me up a wide, winding staircase, down a long corridor, up another staircase, and finally to my room. To my relief, the door opened to a cheery, well-lit room with a large bed, a fireplace burning with fresh logs, and a table with dinner laid out. All my fears went away. ¡°Your en suite bathroom is over there. After your long journey, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll need to refresh yourself,¡± said the Count. ¡°When you¡¯re finished, we can have dinner together.¡± I was very hungry, so I quickly did my toilet business and washed up. When I went back into my room, I found my host standing by the fireplace. ¡°I have already dined, so I won¡¯t be joining you for dinner,¡± Blackula said. ¡°But I am happy to have your company all the same, brother.¡± I handed him a letter from my Black boss, Mr. Hawkins. He read it, then handed the letter back to me. Dear Count Blackula, Thank you for choosing Black London Homes for helping you legally purchase property in the United Black Kingdom. Regretfully, my health is poor due to chronic diabetes, and I am unable to travel. However, I¡¯m happy to send Mr. Jamarcus Harker as my substitute. He is a young, energetic, and talented man. He is the epitome of Black excellence. He¡¯ll attend to you and help you in any matters you desire. Yours truly, Abebe Hawkins The count took off the cloche with a flourish and revealed spicy chicken tenders, biscuits, red beans, rice, and a salad. After I devoured the food, we sat by the fireplace with a glass of brandy, although he excused himself and said that he did not drink. We spoke at length about my journey and all the people that I had met. Now that I had no distractions, I could finally observe his appearance. Although Count Blackula had dark skin, his skin still seemed pale and death-like. His white Afro grew abundantly on the top of his head, but not along the sides. His white eyebrows were bushy, almost a unibrow. His white mustache was wide and flared to tips by his cheeks. His both his ears and fingernails were pointed. But by far, his most prominent feature was his exceptionally sharp canine teeth, which protruded over his dark lips. Blackula stood up and said, ¡°You must be tired. I have business until afternoon, so feel free to sleep in as late as you want, brother.¡± I looked toward the window and I noticed the first rays of dawn. The Count took my right hand in his right, then pulled me in an embrace with his left. His breath smelled rotten and I felt nauseous. Strangely, I felt a terrible sense of dread. I involuntarily shuddered. The Count noticed it and released me. He bowed and left. His grim smile showed more of his canine teeth. Jamarcus meets Count Blackula, May 6, evening I slept in until early evening. I went downstairs to eat dinner or breakfast ¨C I¡¯m not sure which word is more appropriate. I left my plate on the table, but I didn¡¯t see a servant come to take it away. The castle was beautifully furnished. The furniture was made of exquisitely carved cherry wood. The curtains and upholstery were made with luxurious fabrics. Still, I couldn¡¯t find a single mirror in the entire castle. There wasn¡¯t even a mirror in my bathroom. I had to shave using my travel mirror. I walked around the castle, but every door that I tried was locked. The only open room, besides my own bedroom, was the library. The Count had evidently been collecting books, magazines, and newspapers about Black English customs and manners. Entire shelves were filled with books about Black English history, Black English geography, Black English politics, Black English economy, Black English ecology, Black English geology ¨C and my favorite ¨C Black English law.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Count Blackula entered the library. ¡°I¡¯m glad you found your way in here,¡± said Blackula. ¡°Did you know that I learned English entirely from books?¡± ¡°Really?¡± I exclaimed. ¡°Your English is very good.¡± ¡°Thank you, but I only know the grammar and words,¡± he replied. ¡°But I don¡¯t really know how to speak the language.¡± ¡°But you speak excellently!¡± ¡°If anyone in London spoke to me, they¡¯d immediately know I was a foreigner.¡¯¡± The Count scooted his chair closer to mine. ¡°When bad things happen, the first person they¡¯ll be suspicious of is the foreigner,¡± said the count. ¡°I want to blend in.¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± I replied. ¡°Even though we are all Black, and therefore, Black brothers and sisters, some people still treat foreign Blacks poorly.¡± ¡°You¡¯re officially here as a representative of Hawkins Abebe, but I hope you¡¯ll also stay here a while and talk to me, so I can learn the Black English intonation.¡± ¡°Err ¡­ Abebe Hawkins?¡± ¡°Oh, in the Black Hungarian language, the surname goes before the first name. See? That¡¯s why I need you to point out my mistakes,¡± he said. Blackula smiled and put his hands on mine. I felt hair on the palms of his hands. This time, I managed to conceal my shock. Jamarcus meets Count Blackula, May 7, midnight For the rest of the evening, we discussed plans, deeds, and figures of Blackula¡¯s new estates. He showed me his atlas, which was opened to Germany. ¡°This property in the Black Forest has three villas. Each villa has a terrace and a direct view of the lake. All three of your new vacation comes are connected by a boardwalk.¡± ¡°Excellent,¡± said Blackula. He then flipped the atlas to England. There were already two markers, signifying the second and third properties that the count wanted to buy: one on Whitby, a town on the Yorkshire coast, and another one Piccadilly, an east London suburb. ¡°Whitby is perfect for your home away from home, Count B. It¡¯s very isolated and private,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s 20 acres and surrounded by a tall, stone wall and guarded by an iron gate. The walls are crumbling, and the gate is rusted, but it¡¯ll be fun home improvement project to fix it up.¡± I continued on. ¡°There are only a few other residential houses around your house. The two major neighboring buildings are a lunatic asylum and an old chapel. But I visited the property myself, and I can assure you, the lunatic asylum isn¡¯t visible from the grounds.¡± ¡°The mansion itself is very old, built in the medieval period. There are only a few windows, and they¡¯re very high up and barred with iron.¡± My client was seemed happy with my real estate spiel, depressing as it was. ¡°I¡¯m glad that the house is old and big, Jamarcus. I love the shadow and darkness of night.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Right. Sun is overrated.¡± I then changed the subject to Piccadilly. ¡°This townhouse in Piccadilly is in a cul-de-sac in a quiet residential neighborhood. It¡¯s also walking distance from some of the most excellent schools in East London.¡± Now that the legal business was all settled, I asked Count Blackula if I could explore the castle when he was away on business. ¡°Of course, Jamarcus. You can go anywhere you want ¡­ except where the doors are locked. There is a reason that we do things the way we do. We Transylvania Blacks are different than British Blacks.¡± This led to a conversation about his home country. As the hours went on, I became more courageous and asked him about the blue flames I saw on my first night in his castle. ¡°In traditional Black Hungarian folklore, evil spirits are at their highest power at midnight on St. Jerome¡¯s Day,¡± said Blackula. ¡°On that day, blue flames appear over any place with buried treasure. For centuries, Romania has been fought over by Black foreign armies, the Black Saxons, the Black Turks. But even after they killed our men, women, and children, they found nothing. We hid all our valuables underneath the earth.¡± ¡°But if the blue flames show where the treasure is, why hasn¡¯t it all been dug up by now?¡± ¡°The flames only appear on one night, and our peasants are too cowardly to leave their houses,¡± replied Blackula. ¡°Besides, even if they mark where the flames were, they wouldn¡¯t be able to find them the next day.¡± ¡°Yes, I guess so,¡± I said. The Count told me to stay in the room while he prepared my dinner. I thought it was strange that a nobleman wouldn¡¯t make his servants do menial tasks like cooking food and setting the table. Almost an hour passed before he returned. ¡°Dinner is ready,¡± said the count. Like last night, Blackula said that he had already eaten earlier and so he wouldn¡¯t have anything for dinner, but he sat with me during the meal, all the same. After dinner, we chatted by the fireplace in my room. Count Blackula asked questions on every aspect of Black British life, hour after hour. I felt very tired, but I didn¡¯t complain. We talked until the skies warmed up with the dawn. The count jumped to his feet and said, ¡°It is morning again! Time sure flies by. I¡¯m sorry to have kept you awake all night.¡± He quickly bowed and left. I closed my curtains and tried to get some sleep. Jamarcus meets Count Blackula, May 7, afternoon I went to bed at dawn and woke up in the late afternoon. I washed my face and combed my Afro. I then began to shave, using my small travel mirror to help avoid cutting myself. ¡°Good morning,¡± said Count Blackula¡¯s voice. I was so startled that I accidently cut my chin with my razor, although I didn¡¯t notice it at the time. I hadn¡¯t heard his footsteps. ¡°Good morning, Count B,¡± I replied, waving my travel mirror apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t you see in my mirr¡ª" I glanced at the mirror, but the only things that it reflected back were my Black face and the rest of the room. I looked at the count and then back at the mirror. His reflection was missing. I nervously looked back at him. His dark face was contorted in an intense anger.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Blood ¡­¡± he rasped out. I felt blood trickling down my chin. ¡°Right,¡± I said. ¡°Let me get a towel and stop the bleeding.¡± I laid down my razor and started to look around for a clean cloth, but Count Blackula suddenly moved very close to me. I stumbled backwards and he pressed me against the wall. He grabbed my collar, but immediately withdrew when he accidently touched the beads of my Black Jesus crucifix. The speed in change of demeanor astounded me. He hunched over and cradled his hands, as if they were in pain. The anger was completely gone, replaced by anxiety and cautiousness. ¡°Be careful that you don¡¯t cut yourself,¡± said the count breathlessly. He grabbed my travel mirror and threw it out the window. I heard it shatter onto the stones of the courtyard, several stories below. He turned around curtly and left. Jamarcus meets Count Blackula, May 7, evening I strolled around the castle to exercise and do a bit of exploring. I tried to open the main door to take a walk in the courtyard, but it was locked. I tried a door to another room, but it was locked too. A third room was also locked. A small sense of panic rose within me. I ran up the stairs and through hallways, trying every door and finding them all locked and bolted. There were no windows on the first or second floor. The few windows on the upper floors wouldn¡¯t open. On the south side of the third floor, I found a large window with a terrifying but fantastic view. The castle was built on the edge of a giant cliff. Three sides of the castle looked down onto an abyss that seemed to me to be 1000 feet deep. Beyond the castle were green trees as far as the eye could see. Occasionally a deep chasm or river cut through the forest.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I quietly sat down on the stairs and tried to calm my racing heartbeat. My face and body were covered in sweat and I wiped my wet palms on my pants. I gathered my thoughts. Clearly, I was a prisoner in this house and the Count has done it himself. Even if I did escape from the castle, the woods were filled with wolves. It wouldn¡¯t be any use telling Blackula that I knew this. I didn¡¯t know his motives and he would only deceive me. I had to continue acting completely normal. I heard a door shut below and knew that the count had awaken. I crept in the hallway and peeped into my room. He was making my bed and changing my bedsheets. He then went downstairs. Through the spaces in between the door and the wall frame, I saw him set up the breakfast-dinner spread in the dining room. If a nobleman like the count was doing these menial tasks, then this confirmed that he and I were the only people in the entire castle. Jamarcus is trapped in Castle Blackula, May 8, 9 May 8 I took a lamp and tried all the doors in the castle. They were locked. I went down to the lobby and tried the main door. It was bolted and chained, but I removed them easily. But the door was locked from the inside. ¡°They key must be in the count¡¯s room,¡± I reasoned. ¡°But he¡¯s always either always in his room, with me, or doing chores around the castle. I¡¯ll just have to wait until I¡¯m sure here¡¯s left.¡± May 9, evening During our usual post-dinner chat, Blackula asked me whether I had written any letters to anyone since I had arrived at the castle.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯ve written some letters,¡± I replied, ¡°But I haven¡¯t been able to find a post box.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll mail your letters for you,¡± said the count, smiling. ¡°In addition, I want you to write a letter to Abebe Hawkins. Tell him that you¡¯ll stay with me for another month, at least.¡± ¡°But Count B, that¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s so long.¡± ¡°I desire it, Jamarcus Harker. When your employer sent someone on his behalf, it was understood that you would attend to my needs. I¡¯m not asking too much, am I?¡± He actually was, but I wasn¡¯t about to say it out loud. Not while I was a prisoner in a castle in the middle of nowhere. I bowed to him in acceptance. He handed me some sheets of paper and envelopes. He didn¡¯t give me anything to seal the envelopes. It was understood that he would be reading anything that I wrote. ¡°Jay, brother, you should tell your friends of how well our business is going,¡± said Blackula with a sharp-toothed smile. ¡°You¡¯re looking forward to getting home to them, aren¡¯t you?¡± I had to figure out a way to write to Mr. Hawkins and Moesha in secret. Jamarcus is trapped in Castle Blackula, May 11 I have developed a routine at Castle Blackula: wake up in the late afternoon, try out all the doors and windows, eat dinner while the count watches me, then talk and talk until morning. This night, Count Blackula said that he wouldn¡¯t talk with me and I could go to bed early, if I liked. While at the door, he paused and turned around.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°This castle is old. Some say that it¡¯s haunted,¡± said Count B. ¡°If you feel sleepy, then hurry to your own room to sleep there. Otherwise, you will have very bad dreams. Be careful, Jamarcus. Be careful.¡± Jamarcus is trapped in Castle Blackula, May 12, midnight After he left me, I sat in my room and listened for movement. After I couldn¡¯t hear any more sounds, I went downstairs to the large window on the third floor. I looked around for any way to escape. A movement from a window, caught my eye. It was one story down and to the left. ¡°That must be Blackula¡¯s bedroom,¡± I thought.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The count¡¯s window was just a hole ¨C it had no glass. He then stuck his dark face out the window hole, then his dark hands, then his dark torso. I became anxious because I thought he was going to fall to the floor below, but soon that anxiety turned into disgust. He crawled down the castle wall, head down, feet up. His fingers grasped the crevices like a black lizard and his cloak spread out behind him like a pair of black wings. Jamarcus is trapped in Castle Blackula, May 15 Today was the second time that I saw the count go down lizard-style. This time, he went to some small hole or window in the castle wall and vanished. I now knew that, for now, he was gone, and gained the courage to explore his room. This appeared a woman¡¯s bedroom. The walls were painted pastel, although I couldn¡¯t make out the exact color in the moonlight. The furniture was dusty, but comfortable and feminine. In the corner was a pretty, little writing desk. I imagined this is where women in the far past would do cute female activities, like sew, writing letters to their husbands, chat with their friends. I felt comfort in this room. It was a welcome reprieve from the terror of the rest of this castle.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Jamarcus is trapped in Castle Blackula, May 16, midnight It was time to go to bed, but I kept thinking about B¡¯s strangely feminine bedroom and its cozy bed. Blackula¡¯s warning about not sleeping in any room other than my own came to mind, but I was tired of that old geezer. I went back into Count B¡¯s room and pulled out a large sofa and placed it in front of the window. Surrounded by soft cushions, quaint furniture, and daydreams of women that may have slept in this bedroom, I looked at the view of the nighttime forests and drifted to sleep. When I woke up, there were three young Black women standing next to my bed. They cast no shadows on the floor. One had an Afro, one had braids, and one had a weave. All three had long, sharp canine teeth. ¡°Ay yo! Are you Dr. Martin Luther King Jr?¡± asked the Black woman with the weave. ¡°Because I had a dream bout you.¡± ¡°What ¡­ who is ¡­ do you mean the Black German man who broke off from the Black Catholic church?¡± ¡°Hol up,¡± said the Afro-haired Black women. ¡°Don¡¯t you be trying to hog him. Mmm mmm, he fine as hell.¡± ¡°Gurl, you know he be enough for all of us,¡± said the woman with the braids. ¡°Denzel Washington here gonna share his thick body with everyone.¡± ¡°And if he don¡¯t,¡± added the weave Black woman. ¡°He gonna get his ass whooped so hard, his bottom gonna be all leg, no ass.¡± The Black woman with the weave leapt in bed with me. She got on her hands and knees and sat in between my legs. She arched her back and licked her lips. Her sharp canine teeth gleaned blueish-white in the moonlight. Slowly, she lowered her head toward my lower torso. I tried to move, but my body felt heavy.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Wait, please,¡± I said. ¡°I have a fianc¨¦e. You can¡¯t do this.¡± She smiled and looked up at me. Then she crawled closer to my head. I could feel her hot breath on my neck. My skin tingled as she moved in closer, closer. Her lips lightly kissed the most sensitive part of my neck. Then, I felt the two indentations of her canine teeth. My heart thumped louder and louder. But then, the room grew cold and dark. A dark hand grabbed the woman¡¯s hair and pulled her back. ¡°Get your hands off of me!¡± she screamed. Count Blackula wretched her out of the bed and onto the floor. With one hand, the woman cradled her head. With the other, she raised her index finger and waved it at the Count. ¡°Aww hell naw! Anybody who touch my weave ¨C I will cut them.¡± Her black eyebrows furrowed, and she snarled like an animal. But the Count¡¯s anger was far greater than hers, as if the fires of Black hell were within him. The lines of his face were deep and hard. He grabbed the woman by the shoulder and flung her across the room. The two other women screamed and flailed their arms. Count Blackula then swept his arm, the same way that I saw the carriage driver sweep his arm with the wolves on the night that I first arrived. All three women immediately retreated into a corner and whimpered. ¡°Back! Get back!¡± shouted Count Blackula. ¡°How dare any of your wenches touch him, even look at him, when I had forbidden it?¡± A Black woman an Afro said, ¡°Men really be thinking they can treat us like this. This ain¡¯t right, bae.¡± ¡°I promise that when I¡¯m done with him, all of you can have your way with him.¡± ¡°And what about tonight? I¡¯m hungry,¡± said the braid-haired women. The Count took out a sack from his cloak and threw it at the women. I heard a faint cry come out of the bag as it thudded on the floor. The Black women crowded around the bag and pulled out a barely moving child. They cackled and left. But they didn¡¯t go out of the room through the door. They crawled to the window, jumped out, and turned into shadowy flying creatures. The Count stood over me and swept his arm. My body felt very tired and I passed out. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, May 18 I woke up in my own bed. I was wearing pajamas. My old clothes laundered, folded, and placed on the table next to me. The Count must¡¯ve carried me back here, undressed me, then did maid services. I felt relief and calm. As terrifying as the rest of the castle was, my room was a sanctuary. For whatever reason, those blood-sucking women were forbidden from coming in this particular room. However terrifying Count B was, he was the only one who could protect me ¡­ for now.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I got dressed and went back down to B¡¯s girlfriends¡¯ bedroom. But now the door was not only locked, but it was jammed against the doorway. Some of the wood had splintered, as if a giant had picked it up and thrown it against the doorframe. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, May 19, evening After Count B watched me eat dinner, he escorted me back to my room. He told me write three specific letters to Abebe Hawkins. ¡°In the first letter, write that your work is progressing well, and you should be finishing up soon. In the second letter, write that you¡¯ll start your return journey to England the next morning. And in the third letter, write that you have left the castle and arrived at the Bistritz train station.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better if I wrote the letters as those events happen?¡± I asked.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°The Black Romanian postman rarely comes to my castle. I¡¯ll deliver your letters directly to Bistritz tonight,¡± explained the count. ¡°You¡¯ll feel less anxious if you know your letters are already safely in the post office.¡± I knew too much, and Count B would kill me ¡­ eventually. For now, I had to cooperate and prolong my chance of escape. I picked up my pen and pressed the tip against the paper. ¡°When should I date these letters?¡± He thought for a minute, then answered, ¡°Date the first letter June 12, the second June 19, and the third June 29.¡± I had to escape by June 29, or Count B would eat me. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, May 27 A band of Black gypsies are camped out in the courtyard. They are called ¡°cig¨¢ny¡± in the count¡¯s native language. There are thousands of them in in Hungary and Transylvania. I hastily wrote letters to Moesha and Abebe Hawkins. To Abebe, I wrote in English. But to Moesha, I wrote in Ovambo, the language of the people of Namibia. We try to uphold the pride of our African heritage by learning the language of our ancestor¡¯s. When we want to talk privately, Moesha and I speak Ovambo to each other. If Count Blackula intercepted the letters, he wouldn¡¯t be able to read Moesha¡¯s letter, at least.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I called to tried to get a cig¨¢ny¡¯s attention from my window. The Black gypsy walked over to me and said something in his Black native language, but I couldn¡¯t understand. I threw out my letters and a couple of coins, then mimed putting the letters in a mailbox. The Black gypsy took the letters and coins, pressed them to his heart, then put them in his cap. I hope the letters get to England without Count B finding out ¡­ Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, May 28 Count Blackula sat across from me at the dinner table. ¡°The cig¨¢ny gave me these.¡± He passed me two envelopes. Both had been opened. ¡°I don¡¯t understand the strange language on this letter,¡± said Blackula, pointing to Moesha¡¯s letter. ¡°But I clearly can¡¯t send Abebe¡¯s letter.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He walked over to the fireplace and threw the letters into the flames. We both watched until the papers were completely burned. He stood over me while I re-wrote the letters. ¡°I¡¯ll just take all of these,¡± said Count B, scooping up all the paper and pens. ¡°You know how valuable and scarce good stationary is.¡± He bowed courteously and left. After he went out of the room, I could hear a key turn. A minute later, I tried my room door. It was locked. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, May 31 This morning, I heard the sound of horse whinnying and wheels scraping the courtyard cobblestone. I hurried to the window and looked down. There were two large wagons, each drawn by eight horses. ¡°I can escape with them,¡± I thought, but my room door was still locked.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I banged on my window to get their attention. The Black horseman looked up at my window and then said something to his Black gypsy friends. They laughed and then ignored me. I watched them continued to unload their boxes. They carried the boxes easily, so they must¡¯ve been empty. By late morning, there were a small mountain of boxes in one corner of the courtyard. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, June 4 Tonight, I heard the sound of a weeping woman in the courtyard. I went to my window and looked down. A Black peasant gripped the bars of the gate. Her Afro was disheveled and wild. ¡°You monster! Give me back my child!¡± The gate rattled the gate with the force of her shaking. From another room in the castle, I heard B¡¯s voice. He yelled at the sky. A few seconds later, wolves from far and wide answered his calls. The forest and courtyard echoed with the menacing sounds of animal howls.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. My palms became sweaty, and my heart raced. I opened my window, ¡°Get out of here, miss!¡± I yelled. ¡°Get out!¡± But it was too late. A pack of wolves flooded into the courtyard. Within minutes, she was entirely devoured. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, June 10, midnight I noticed floating specks outside my window. They glowed purple, the traditional color of Black African royalty. The specks whirled together with the moonlight and slowly took shape. Two of Blackula¡¯s brides floated into my room. ¡°Hey, sugar,¡± said the Black woman with the braids. ¡°We¡¯ve missed you so much.¡± ¡°Ah lawd have mercy, I am ready to bone. Boy, I dare you to take off my panties ¨C cuz when you do, you finna see steam come out of there like a boiling kettle,¡± said the one with the afro. I felt unnaturally sleepy and weak. The two women carried me to the bed. One of the women sat by the pillow and the other straddled my thighs. I managed to gasp out, ¡°Get away from me, vile temptress.¡± ¡°We good, Jamarcus. We good,¡± said the woman who was sitting by my head. ¡°You know what? I feel you. I feel you,¡± said the Afro-haired woman who was sitting on my thighs. ¡°I need you to pump your brakes. You know what I¡¯m saying?¡± ¡°She¡¯s saying you need to relax,¡± translated her friend.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The woman unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down slightly. Her breath felt warm on my lower regions. Slowly, she licked, and slowly, she pulled down my underwear. She smiled at me and bared her sharp teeth. She lowered her head, and I felt a slight pain in my thigh. I felt a great shame, as I also wanted this to continue. Suddenly we heard another female voice from outside. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong with dat coffin lid. It¡¯s super glued together.¡± Both women became stiff and nervous. The Afro-haired woman quickly buttoned up my pants and got off the bed. She said very loudly, ¡°Uh, so like I was saying, Mr. Harker, where¡¯d you get those nails did? They on fleek.¡± The third Blackula bride floated in. This was the one with the weave. ¡°What is you two doing in here? The last time I checked, ya¡¯ll asses supposed to be sitting in the tower. Which means, ya asses supposed to be sitting in your coffin, til we supposed to be eatin.¡± Blood leaked through my pants and onto the bed. ¡°Ah, hell no! Was happened to him?¡± she exclaimed. ¡°We just here to check up on Mr. Harker, make sure he¡¯s doin aiight,¡± said the Afro-haired woman. ¡°We ain¡¯t trying to front nobody.¡± ¡°Ah no no no no. His femoral artery bleeding out,¡± said the weave-haired woman. ¡°Ya¡¯ll need to be ashamed of yourselves.¡± She grabbed her two companions by the backs of their dresses and shoved them out the window. ¡°Get out there and fix my damn coffin.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± said the woman with the braids. ¡°And get this man some gauze and a tourniquet,¡± said the weave-haired bride. ¡°Do I gotta do every single thing myself? She turned toward me. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, Mr. Harker. I¡¯s be making sure no one eats you until we¡¯s supposed to.¡± Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, June 11 and June 19 June 11 Room door still locked. I¡¯ve tried ramming with my shoulder and achieved nothing but a sore shoulder. I¡¯ve tried kicking and achieved nothing but a sore foot. June 19 Today, one of my post-dated letters should have been sent out. I was running out of time. I thought about this logically. It was always at night when scary things happened. In fact, I had never seen Blackula, his brides, or his wolves during the day. Either he had a very strict and very odd sleep schedule ¨C or I was safe during the day. I had to get into his room. Not his brides¡¯ room ¨C Count Blackula¡¯s real room. He probably kept his key in there. Even if I couldn¡¯t find the key, maybe I could find something else to help me escape. But that room could only be reached by that hole in the tower wall. Blackula could scale walls and his brides could fly. I could do neither. But times were desperate. I opened my window and memorized the general direction of Count B¡¯s hole. Then I took a deep breath, heaved my legs over the windowsill, and stepped on the stones on the tower outside. The stones were big, roughly cut, and covered with centuries¡¯ worth of sticky grime.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Don¡¯t look down. Don¡¯t look down,¡± I thought to myself. I looked down. The depth immediately made me dizzy. From then on, I kept my eyes on the stone in front of me. Within a few minutes, I was at the windowsill of the count¡¯s room. I slid in and crouched down, looking for Blackula, but he wasn¡¯t in the room. Not only that, but the room was also almost completely empty. There were a few random pieces of furniture, but they were covered with a thick layer of dust. I quickly looked around the room, but there was no key. In the room were two doors: one door that led to the normal part of the castle, and the other that seemed to be a tunnel leading downwards. I carefully went down the tunnel. It was dark and musky. After some time of walking, I came to a heavy, metal door. I calculated that I was on the first floor of the castle. I pulled open the door and looked inside. There were several rooms inside the first-floor vault. Piled around all the rooms were large boxes. I opened the lid of a few of them. There was nothing but dirt inside them. Each room had a large, ornate coffin. I walked into one of the smaller rooms and opened the lid of the coffin. I stifled a gasp. The Black woman with the weave was inside it. But she didn¡¯t seem truly sleeping. She was not breathing. She had no heartbeat. I quietly closed the lid and went back into the largest room. This time there were no surprises. I opened the lid and found Count Blackula inside his coffin. No breath, no heartbeat. He too, seemed lifeless. His Black skin was sunken in and ashy. His white Afro and white mustache were thinning. My fingers trembled but I forced myself to go through all his pockets. No key. I stood there thinking about what I should do, when Blackula¡¯s eyes suddenly opened. His eyes were glassy and dead. I screamed, ran away from the mausoleum, and climbed over the walls of the tower. I threw myself on my bed and covered myself with a blanket. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, June 29, evening ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s the big day,¡± announced Count Blackula. He set my tray of breakfast-dinner down on the table. ¡°I have already sent your letters,¡± continued B. ¡°Tomorrow morning, my Black driver will take you to the Borgo Pass. You can then take a cab to Bistrita and within a week, you¡¯ll be back home in London.¡± I tried to look more courageous than I felt. ¡°I want to leave right now,¡± I said. ¡°But the carriage won¡¯t arrive until tomorrow. You don¡¯t want to leave all your luggage here, do you?¡± asked the Black Count. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ll buy everything new in England, the homeland of the Black English people.¡± I then thought about my poor financial situation. Although all businesses were Black-owned, there still existed Blacks of modest means, such as myself.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Or I¡¯ll send for it later,¡± I added. Count Blackula stood up. ¡°Of course, if you wish to leave, you can,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°This isn¡¯t a prison.¡± For the first time in a month, he allowed me out of my room. He led me down the stairs and to the main entrance. Once we were in front of the door, the Count smiled, showing his teeth. Suddenly, Blackula gave a great howl. Outside, I heard the return howling of wolves. Within a few seconds, I heard the sounds of dozens of animals snarling and growling outside the door. Count B made a great show of drawing back the bolts and chains. Then he took out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He motioned for me to open the door. I pulled the door open an inch and peeked outside. On the front steps of the castle were a pack of wolves. Their eyes glowed yellow and their teeth reflected white. One of them lunged forward. I slammed the door shut, catching its limb in the gap. It whimpered and withdrew its leg. I turned my back and put all my weight into keeping the door closed. ¡°Right,¡± I said, breathlessly. ¡°Well, I suppose I could wait until tomorrow to go home.¡± Count Blackula swept his arm, and the wolves retreated back into their homes in the woods. I stood by silently as he redid the bolts and chains. Triumph sparkled in his eyes as he took out his key and locked the main door once again. Jamarcus knows Blackula’s secret, 30 June, morning I opened my eyes and woke up. It was morning and I was still alive. I ran down the stairs, to the main entrance, and tried to open the doors. I shook it, rattled it, pushed, and pulled, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Count B must¡¯ve locked it after yesterday¡¯s theatrics. If I didn¡¯t get the key, Blackula¡¯s brides would surely eat me tonight. Adrenaline took control of me and I scaled the walls again to B¡¯s bedroom. He wasn¡¯t in the human bed. I searched his room for a key, but I couldn¡¯t find it. I opened the door in the corner and went down the dark tunnel. I now knew where he really slept. I went downstairs into the dark tunnel. Blackula¡¯s coffin bed now had a lid over it, like a normal human would sleep with a duvet. I lifted the cover and took a closer look at B¡¯s Black face. It was clearly him, but he looked 30 years younger. His white Afro and mustache were now black. Before, he seemed thin and gaunt, but now his dark cheeks were chubby and pink. His face had an expression of satisfied greed. I glanced around the room for a weapon. There was only a workman¡¯s shovel. Even though my hands were shaking, I picked up the shovel, lifted it over my shoulder, turned the edge toward him, and struck Count B¡¯s face. But even though I made a direct hit, there wasn¡¯t even a small cut on the count¡¯s skin. I tried a second, a third, and a fourth time, but his body seemed immune to physical attacks.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. In any case, he wouldn¡¯t be waking up anytime soon. I searched through his clothes for a key, but I couldn¡¯t find it. There had to be another way out. I walked further into the tunnel. I had to be careful as there was little light, and the path was uneven. Then I heard the sound of many footsteps and heavy objects being set on the floor. Blackula¡¯s employees were probably shipping all those boxes of dirt. At the end of the tunnel, I saw a faint light from a half-opened door. My heart pounded as I jogged toward the workers. I hid behind a box and peeped over the top. The Black employees were heaving dozens and dozens of boxes onto carriages. Every few minutes, a driver left with his cargo. I crouched behind a box of dirt and watched the workers fill up the back of the carriage with boxes. A Black worker gave a signal to the driver, who shook his reins and started to drive away. As soon as the worker turned around, I sprinted toward the carriage and jumped in the back. In the words of the great Black freedom fighter Martin Luther King Jr: Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, I am free at last! A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 6 Captain Sefu Gravely Jr. was proud of his crew. His first mate was a Romanian Black man with a logical mind and strong sense of duty. The second mate, five crew hands, and cook were Russian Blacks. They were more superstitious than their Romanian companion, but still hardworking and steady. Together, they represented the excellence that Blacks could achieve in a world in which they had the opportunity and support to pursue their dreams in maritime transportation.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Over the next month, these Black brothers would sail the S.S. Demeter from Varna, Bulgaria to Yorkshire, England. They were carrying hundreds of heavy, large boxes from an eccentric Romanian nobleman named Count Blackula. A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 11-16

July 11

The S.S. Demeter arrived at the Strait of Istanbul. This was the eastern part of a natural strait in Turkey.

July 12

The S.S. Demeter arrived at the Dardanelles. This was the western part of a natural strait in Turkey.

July 13

The S.S. Demeter reached at Cape Matapan in southwest Greece.

July 14

The crew appeared to be scared and restless. The first mate asked them what was wrong, but they only crossed themselves in silence.

July 16

At the change of shifts, Black Russian Derrel Olgaren ran to the ship¡¯s helm and waved to his Black Russian friend, Jerome Petrofsky. Jerome had been on port watch for eight hours and it was now Derrel¡¯s turn to man the watchtower.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Hello there, Jerome,¡± called Derrel. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m late.¡± ¡°Hallelujah! I been waiting up here forever,¡± came Jerome¡¯s voice. ¡°Somebody better start praying before I forget I know Black Jesus.¡± Jerome hopped down from the deck. ¡°Preach!¡± said Jerome. ¡°What does that mean?¡± asked Derrel. ¡°Ay, K, I¡¯m keeping it real,¡± said Jerome. ¡°Let me hear it, let me hear it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I kept you waiting,¡± said Kellan. ¡°I know that when you¡¯re tired, every minute seems like an eternity.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just playing with you, dawg. We good,¡± said Jerome. Jerome gave Derrel a half hug by putting his right hand on Derrel¡¯s right shoulder. ¡°Proverbs 14:30: don¡¯t hate the player,¡± said Jerome. Jerome walked away. Derrel stood for a moment, puzzled. His friend never talked like that before. He hoped that he was all right. A few hours into Derrel¡¯s shift, Kellan Amramoff came by and asked where Jerome was. Apparently, Jerome never showed up to his bedroom. The crew arranged a search party, but they couldn¡¯t find any trace or clue of their Black friend. Jerome had gone missing. A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 17 Derrel relaxed underneath the awning and sipped his coffee, which didn¡¯t have any sugar or cream. It was raining harder and the seas were rougher than usual. In his peripheral vision, he saw a dark movement. A strange man by the deck cabin was also sheltering from the rainstorm. That man wasn¡¯t an employee of the ship. The sailor poured out his coffee and raised his coffee cup as a makeshift weapon. The man opened the deck cabin door and walked in. Derrel followed as quietly as he could, but when he entered the cabin, the room was empty.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Someone dangerous is on this ship,¡± thought Derrel. ¡°And we don¡¯t know where he is or how he¡¯s getting around!¡± A few hours later, Captain Gravely and the crew conducted a thorough search of the entire ship, from stern to stern. Each crew member carried a lantern and searched every odd corner that a man could hide. They moved and looked behind all the large boxes. Most of the crew members were relieved to find nothing. ¡°I suppose that I must¡¯ve imagined the whole thing,¡± said Derrel. The Romanian Black first mate, Mucheru Vacarescu scowled. He thought Derrel was foolish and superstitious. A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 22-28

July 22

The ship passed through the Strait of Gibraltar, between Spain and Algeria. Derrel tied down all the spare equipment in the engine room. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. The weather for the last few days had turned unusually rough. The waves had been so violent that no one could work on the deck.

July 24

The ship reached the Bay of Biscay in western France. The wild blew wildly and the rain fell down in sheets.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Derrel walked downstairs to the work room, where Khyrel Ivanov was repairing pipes. ¡°Hey, Khyrel,¡± said Derrel. ¡°Yo man, wassup,¡± answered Khyrel. Derrel frowned. ¡°Why are you talking like that?¡± asked Derrel. ¡°Dis how I always talk.¡± ¡°Jerome spoke like this the night he disappeared. Khyrel, you need to come with me to the first mate¡¯s room. We can protect you there.¡± ¡°You trippin, Derrel.¡± Khyrel clocked out and left the room. Eight hours later, Kellan came to relieve Derrel and told him the bad news: Khyrel had disappeared too. The captain ordered everyone to work in pairs and on double watch, so no one had to work alone.

July 28

An unusually strong hurricane had formed over the sea over the last four days. The men worked day and night to keep the ship operational. A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 29

July 29

Derrel slumped in his chair at his post and tried to stay awake while still closing his eyes. He and the rest of the men slept only a few hours each night. Anfernee Lebedev, the second mate, came over and gently shook Derrel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°Hey, why don¡¯t you get some sleep? You look tired and I can do this job well enough myself.¡± ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t, Anfernee,¡± said Derrel. ¡°That madman is on the loose. We have to protect each other.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t be able to protect anyone if you¡¯re constantly nodding off,¡± replied Anfernee. ¡°Just power nap for a few hours. I¡¯ll be right here when you get back.¡± Derrel smiled. He put his hands on his chair¡¯s armrests and pushed himself up. ¡°Thanks, Anfernee. I am exhausted.¡± Derrel left the room and closed the door behind him. Anfernee settled into the chair that Derrel had just sat in.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll just rest my eyes for a second,¡± thought Anfernee. His eyelids felt so comfortable closed. Anfernee imagined he was sleeping in a bed with cotton sheets and fluffy pillows. In his dream, he was wearing pajamas and snuggling under a thick duvet. His mattress floated through a sky of thick, white clouds. Suddenly, Anfernee¡¯s entire body felt cold. His eyelids flew open. In front of him was a tall, Black man. ¡°It¡¯s you!¡± gasped Anfernee. He clenched his fist and pulled back his arm for a bunch. Count Blackula made a sweeping motion with his arm, and Anfernee felt very loose and dazed. The sailor stood still, and his hands dangled by his side. ¡°Don¡¯t fight,¡± said Count Blackula. ¡°If your heart beats too vigorously, it makes such a mess.¡± Anfernee wanted to fight, to flee, but his body was no longer his own. His arm moved of its own volition. He snapped his fingers in front of his upper right chest, his upper left chest, lower right chest, and lower left chest, in rapid succession. snap snap snap snap ¡°Oh, sugar,¡± said Anfernee. ¡°You can do whatever you want.¡± ¡°What am I saying?¡± thought Anfernee. ¡°This isn¡¯t me! I¡¯m being controlled!¡± A few hours later, Derrel came back to the empty workroom. He raised the alarm and the crew all searched the ship again. But Anfernee was gone. The captain ordered everyone to carry a gun from then on out. A ship transports strange cargo to Yorkshire, England, July 30 and August 1

July 30

Derrel stood by the ship¡¯s railing and looked out at strangely thick fog that enveloped the ship. Two more crew members disappeared today. Only he, the cook, the captain, and the first mate were left. ¡°Only a few days more, and we¡¯ll reach England,¡± thought Derrel. ¡°I just need to survive.¡±

August 1

The fog was so thick for the last two days that the ship couldn¡¯t find the English Channel. No wind filled the sails. The air was still, and the ship stagnated in the waters. Derrel looked up at the sails. The sails should be taken down, but if he needed to put them back up again, the fog would make it impossible to do so. The ship was drifting, and Derrel felt as if they were helplessly drifting to their death.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯m a sailor. This is what I do,¡± thought Derrel. ¡°And this is what I¡¯ll do until I die.¡± He went downstairs to the kitchen to get dinner. The kitchen was in a disarray. Pots were unwashed and stacked haphazardly in the sink. Leftover ingredients were strewn across the table. A soup was on the stove, only half cooked. ¡°Yodny! Yodny Mikhailov!¡± Derrel shouted. ¡°Where are you?!¡± He ran into the cook¡¯s office. Not there. He ran into the pantry. No. Dish room. No. Cleaning supplies room. No. Derrel pounded the wall. ¡°No. Not Yodny too,¡± thought Derrel. He collapsed against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. Now it was just him, the captain, and the first mate.