Deconstructing Dracula

Deconstructing Dracula, A - D
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Deconstructing Dracula
by hmonster4
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4992954/1/Deconstructing_Dracula
Prologue
vam·pire
Pronunciation: \
ˈ
vam-
ˌ
pī(-
ə
)r\
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from German Vampir, from Serbian vampir
Date: 1732
1: the reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at
night and suck the blood of persons asleep
2 a: one who lives by preying on others
b: a woman who exploits and ruins her lover
Whitby Abbey
We stood at the foot of the ruins, staring up at the crumbling arches.
The ancient stones provide little protection from the wind as it whipped in off the
ocean.
I pulled my coat closer, an attempt to shelter myself. Against what, I was unsure.
The sadness of the ruins? The legend that had been spun from these ancient
walls? Maybe it was the man next to me, whose mere presence challenged
everything.
“There are no ghosts here, Isabella. No monsters. No answers.” His voice was low
in my ear. “Chunks of limestone and old stories. Are you happy now? Did you find
what you were looking for?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
How had my life spun so radically out of control? In just a few short months, I
had lost my way.
Or, if I listened to him, I found it.
Either way, I had decisions to make.
I stood at a fork in the road. I had to choose. Indecision was no longer an option.
It was unfair to everyone. Especially to me.
“Isabella…Stop questioning, love. Just live.”
If only it were that simple.
“I need to go back. Please take me back.”
What the heck, a new story from HMonster? Are you nuts? Of course I am ;)
Hmmm….this doesn’t start out like a typical H story now, does it?
Curious? Good.
Wonder WTF is up with the Dracula reference? Stay tuned.
Will there be vampires? Depends on how you define it…
All good things come to those who wait….keep an eye on that alert, you never
know when the next update will hit.
I do not suppose there will be much of interest to other people, but it is not
intended for them.
Dracula, Bram Stoker
Chapter 1 – And So it Begins
September
“Ms. Swan, are you sure that this is the path you want to take for your
dissertation?”
His tone was acerbic; he was questioning my decision.
“Yes, sir. I am confident that this the right path, and I think I have an original
approach.”
“Dracula is not a traditional work to base one’s dissertation on. Not only are you
taking an obscure work, you are challenging a century old assessment of its
content.”
I took a deep breath. I had anticipated this reaction.
“I appreciate that sir. That is why I chose it. The story presents so many
opportunities, and it’s not a work that is often mined. My hope is to create
something truly unique.”
He peered at me over the top of his glasses.
“You know that it’s a risk, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I am well aware of the challenges.”
He shuffled papers around on his desk. “Very well, Ms. Swan. Please proceed, and
keep me apprised of you progress.”
With that, I was dismissed. Out of sight, out of mind.
Here’s hoping my original idea made me stand out in the crowd.
October
“Come on, Bella. Stop being such a bookworm. Let’s go out, have some fun, blow
off some steam!”
My roommate Rose was in the middle of her weekly ‘lure Bella out’ act. Every
Friday night, she would pull out all the stops in an effort to try and drag me away
from the books, away from the research.
“All work and no play…”
“Rose, stop. You sound like Mike.”
A book flew at my head. I ducked before it could do any real damage.
“I told you it’s an insult to be compared to him. Honestly Bella, I don’t get what
you see in him. I may sound like a broken record, but he’s bor-ring. He talks
about himself, law, or sports. Dull!.”
Rose loathed my boyfriend, Mike. He was a good guy, he just wasn’t as dynamic
or outgoing as she would have liked. She compared him to Vanilla often.
But reality was, I am Vanilla, so the pairing made sense. Not even Vanilla bean or
French Vanilla. Plain old Vanilla for plain old Bella. Nothing too crazy. I had a
predictable life. A dependable boyfriend. An insignificant course in life plotted out.
Nothing left to chance.
And not a lot to get excited about either.
If there were no chances, that meant there were no risks. I never took risks. I
never had. It wasn’t that I was adverse to them. I simply didn’t know how. Rose
tried to draw me out, encourage me to ‘go with the moment.’
Rose was passionate. She lived by the seat of her pants. I envied her, but I
wasn’t sure if I could be like her.
“Mike is in the middle of a big case. He’s working late tonight. I was going to stay
in and make a dent in my research.”
“He works late every night. You don’t have a boyfriend, you have a cardboard
cutout with a full closet of designer suits. Now come on. I hear stale beer and
loud music calling to us.”
“Some other night, Rose. I really need to focus.”
“You always say that.” She picked up a book and studied the spine. “Don’t you
think you would be more productive if you went to the places you were supposed
to know? How are you going to write a dissertation on Dracula the sex god unless
you frequent his haunts?”
“It’s not about Dracula the sex god; it’s about sexuality and choices.” I corrected
her. She knew the working title. She was simply goading me.
But going to London wasn’t a new argument. I debated taking the trip multiple
times. When I had mentioned something to Mike, he shook me off.
“Bella, you don’t need to go there. You can finish your dissertation here in
Chicago. You’ll land a job, and we’ll get married. In the long run, what does it
really matter what your dissertation is about so long as you get it done?”
Plain old boring Vanilla Bella meekly agreed and dropped the subject. I never did
argue back. But inside, I was screaming. How dare he marginalize my education,
my dissertation? This wasn’t some simple little paper. This was the culmination of
years of hard work. This was my future. It was part of me.
By putting down my work, didn’t he effectively put down me, question me?
Of course it did.
Did I say anything about it?
Of course not.
“Come on, Bella. Put down your fictional Count and come out with me,” Rose
coaxed.
Neither of them got it. Mike didn’t want to. Rose tried, but couldn’t understand. It
was more than just a book. It just…it was just me. I couldn’t explain it other than
that.
I shook my head and pointed back to the pile of papers and books. “I can’t Rose.
Maybe another night.”
Rose shook her had and moved towards the door. “Someday, you’ll give up on
the paperback prince and find one in real life.”
I sat there staring at the pile of papers as the door clicked shut behind her. I’ll
stick with my fictional characters. Their lives were much more interesting than
mine. And a paperback prince can’t put you down or make you feel less important
for chasing a dream.
November
“God dammit, Bella! Why are the piles of crap everywhere? Everyone will be over
to watch the game in a half and hour, and you have all your shit all over the
place!”
Mike stood there, looking like a crazed fan in his blue and gold jersey.
Oh, excuse me. Blue and Maize.
He had invited all his law school friends over to watch ‘the game’ as he called it. I
could give a flying fig who was playing. I had just hit a groove on a major point,
and didn’t want to lose my rhythm. Blue and Maize vs. Scarlet and Grey. Who
cares? If you listened to Mike, the world shut down for this game.
He took me to a sporting event once. I’ll never forget it. A player had struck out,
and broken his baseball bat in the process. Mike had laughed and looked at me.
“That is the closest you’ll ever get to a flying bat, Bella. Enjoy it.”
He obviously wasn’t talking about the splintered wood.
“Get all this shit put away; I don’t want everyone tripping over it!” He began
shifting piles of paper around in an effort to clear the kitchen table.
“Stop it! You are messing everything up!” He had collapsed my piles together,
shoving everything into unorganized messes. Post it notes popped off papers. A
paper clip clattered to the floor. I scrambled to grab the papers back, to stop him
from wrecking more havoc.
“Stop being such a drama queen, Bella. You are getting no where on this
dissertation. Why don’t you just call it a day and move on? The sooner you do
that, the sooner we can get on with our lives.”
The argument was getting old. I was not giving up on my dissertation. I was too
invested, and had too much to do. Right now, the only thing I wanted to ‘get on’
with these days was a car moving rapidly away from Mike.
The doorbell rang, ending the conversation.
“Just put this shit away, Bella. We’ll need the kitchen table for the pizzas.” He left
the kitchen to greet his friends.
I quickly piled everything up and shoved it in my back pack. Enough is enough. I
didn’t want to be here. Mike provided no support, no encouragement. It was
always about him, his friends, and his needs. I was fed up with it.
I grabbed my duffle out of the bedroom, shoved all my things in, and tossed it
over my shoulder. My back pack went over the opposite shoulder.
I crossed the living room as Mike’s law school buddies were chanting ‘Hail to the
Victor” in anticipation of the football game.
Mike didn’t even realize I was in the room until I was at the door.
“Hey, are you headed for the library?” He called over his shoulder. He wasn’t
looking in my direction. “If you see the pizza guy, can you give him a tip? I’m not
sure where my wallet is.”
“No, Mike. I am leaving.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later.”
He was so distracted by his friends and the impending football game that he
couldn’t pull himself away long enough to see I was carrying my backpack and
my bag.
“Fuck you, Mike,” I muttered under my breath, and let myself out of the
apartment.
December
“Bella, it’s been a month. He isn’t going to stop calling. Will you please just talk
to him?”
Words I never thought I would hear out of Rose Hale’s mouth.
Once Mike realized that I had truly walked out on our relationship, he began a full
on assault to win me back. I wasn’t sure if it was truly about me, or part of the
façade he cultivated. The right schools, the right job, the right type of girl.
It was never about me. Always about him.
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