FANGS AND FOREPLAY: THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 4- PART 34. AN EROTIC HORROR SERIAL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

drac taste

INTRODUCTION.

It is the year 1890 and Dracula and his sex-crazed entourage, having made the English village of Birney too hot to hold them, have decamped for safety to Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania, home to the Draculas since time immemorial.

Accompanying him are his beautiful pregnant wife Anna, their baby daughter Lucrezia and Anna’s faithful maidservant Valeria, all the nude handmaidens and chief amongst their number, the gorgeous Glamara. Igor, the Count’s loyal Gate-keeper, and Dracula’s wickedly bewitching Cousin Carmilla, who is now the Count’s captive, are also present.

Given that the crumbling castle in darkest Transylvania is already occupied by the Count’s mother, his siblings and all of their servants, as you can imagine it looks certain to be quite the crush. Buckle your seatbelts, dear readers and fellow vampire enthusiasts. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is dedicated to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he lieth…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY: THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 4- PART 34.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

A tap on his bedchamber door roused Nikolai from his half-slumber. He’d been restless earlier and had sent Zena away so that he could be alone with his thoughts (thoughts as always of revenge against Dracula for keeping him down), but instead he’d drifted into a sort of uneasy half-sleep. He scratched his head and armpits and, yawning hugely, went to open the door. His eyes widened as he beheld his visitor.

‘What do you want?’ he said ungraciously.

‘A private word,’ purred Carmilla silkily, as she entered the room and shut the door firmly behind her.

‘What do we have to talk about?’

Nikolai crossed the room and sprawled in an armchair, deliberately not offering his guest a seat. Carmilla was not shy, however, and seated herself on the chair opposite him, taking her time arranging the folds of her midnight-blue gown around her to her satisfaction. When she was finally comfortable, she said, with an air of mystery: ‘Your brother, Vladimir.’

Nikolai visibly started. ‘He’s dead,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Isn’t he?’

‘How did he die, dear Nikolai?’ Her voice was as slinky as he imagined a cat’s would be, if cats could talk.

‘He was murdered by brigands, robbers and villains on the road, on his way to meet with one of our tenants about the rent. Dracula told us so. He was the first to hear the bad news.’

‘And why on earth, Nikolai, would he be making such a journey himself when he employed agents to collect any monies for him?’

‘It’s what Dracula said he was doing,’ insisted Nikolai.

‘What would you say, Nikolai, if I told you that Vladimir was not dead but alive, very much alive, in fact, and being kept a prisoner in the dungeons of this very castle…?’

She stared at him triumphantly, waiting for his reaction. Nikolai’s face was thoughtful. A year or two earlier, Nikolai had enjoyed a sojourn in London during the so-called ‘Autumn of Terror’ of 1888, when a vicious murderer known as ‘Jack the Ripper’ had stalked the streets of Whitechapel.

This Jack the Ripper fellow (a monster, the press had hysterically dubbed him) had killed random prostitutes and left them on the blood-soaked streets with their insides out and their entrails tossed casually over their shoulders. He was a fearsome being, almost a mythical creature in the minds of the badly frightened general public who held him in such awe.

Nikolai had been greatly excited by these murders and had used them as an excuse to get in on the act himself. He had taken to the darkened, piss-soaked streets by night and murdered a goodly number of street-walkers himself in their dingy little rooms, only, after he’d strangled them, he’d bitten their necks and drained their poor, used-up bodies of every drop of their blood.

The police had been greatly confused when these strangled, bloodless corpses began turning up almost in tandem with Saucy Jack’s handiwork. Nikolai had never been happier in all his five hundred years of being a vampire.

He was utterly in his element. London was like his own personal giant sweet-shop or playground to him, and he the cheeky young rapscallion riding the carousel for as long as he liked with his cheeks bulging with bulls’ eyes and aniseed balls.

Of course, he’d come to London against the express instructions of his older brother Dracula, who was a mean-minded cur who wanted to keep the attractions of London and England all to himself.

He’d have been happy for Nikolai to stay buried in boring, stagnant old Transylvania for all eternity. But Nikolai had craved the bright lights, the crowds, the fresh meat (and blood) and the rich pickings to be found thronging virtually every street in the huge metropolis.

Dracula, then based in London but with an English country property somewhere where he spent much of his time, had bawled Nikolai out good and proper for his indiscreet and dangerous murder spree and ordered him peremptorily back to Transylvania. No second chances, no fair hearing, nothing but Nikolai’s marching orders in no uncertain terms and a flea in his ear to boot.

Nikolai, furious at being despatched back home to Mummy like a naughty schoolboy, had sought Dracula out and fiercely challenged him. There had been a violent showdown, with some three or four of Dracula’s nude handmaidens present, whores he’d been in the middle of servicing when Nikolai had disturbed him.

The two brothers had fought long and loud, and at the end of it all, Dracula had asked his brother- in a menacingly soft voice that contrasted with the shouting and lent a terrible weight to his words- if he wanted to end up like their eldest brother Vladimir, chained to a wall in the dungeon of Castle Dracula in Transylvania for two hundred years, the equivalent of twenty long, horrible earth years.

‘But… but Vlad’s dead,’ Nikolai had stammered, ashen-faced.

‘Is he indeed…?’ Dracula had sneered, then he’d clammed up and said not another word on the subject.

Nikolai had returned to Transylvania after that, there being no help for it as Dracula’s word was law and, besides, Nikolai was more than a little afraid of what Dracula had said about Vladimir’s real fate.

Nikolai had searched the castle dungeons himself when he arrived home and had been more than a little relieved to find no trace of his brother. He’d thought about it the odd time over the months that had followed, however, and now here was that sultry, purple-eyed witch Carmilla suggesting to him the exact same thing.

‘How do you know?’ he said, glowering with suspicion all over his face.

‘I’ve seen him,’ Carmilla said smugly, helping herself to one of Nikolai’s expensive French cigarettes from a side-table beside her.

‘You’ve seen him?’ Nikolai whispered. ‘Is he… is he… alive?’

Carmilla nodded, then coolly blew three perfect smoke rings in the shape of tiny coffins into the air. She was the only person Nikolai had ever known who could do that, besides Count Dracula himself. He’d tried it himself a hundred times and failed dismally every time.

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ he said harshly, his voice raspy with emotion.

‘Because I need your help,’ she purred, her cat-like eyes glowing in the half-light of the chamber, taking in every inch of his face and body. ‘A great wrong has been done to your eldest brother. We’re going to get Vladimir out of those dreadful dungeons and back where he rightfully belongs… at the head of the Dracula family. With me by his side as his wife, naturally.’

‘O-ho, so that’s your game, is it, you poisonous wench? Why should I help you to advance yourself, tell me that?’

‘Because you hate Dracula even more than I do.’

Her words hung in the air between them like an unexploded bomb. Eventually, Nikolai said in a hoarse whisper: ‘What do you want me to do then, you insufferable wench?’

Carmilla smiled and lifted her hands to the back of her neck, undoing the clasp of her gown. Then she lowered the front of the midnight-blue dress to her waist, exposing to Nikolai’s hungry gaze two of the most magnificent breasts he’d ever seen in all his five hundred years.

Full, round and white with big, pinky-brown nipples, they had the luscious, over-ripe quality to be found in the older woman rather than the pert perkiness of youth, but Nikolai, who loved all breasts on all women, was utterly enchanted with them. He looked at her questioningly.

‘First, you will fuck me,’ she said softly.

‘And afterwards?’ he breathed, his heart beating like a jackhammer.

‘Afterwards, my dear Nikolai, we talk business…’

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

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FANGS AND FOREPLAY: THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 4- PART 33. AN EROTIC HORROR SERIAL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

DracPrince

INTRODUCTION.

It is the year 1890 and Dracula and his sex-crazed entourage, having made the English village of Birney too hot to hold them, have decamped for safety to Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania, home to the Draculas since time immemorial.

Accompanying him are his beautiful pregnant wife Anna, their baby daughter Lucrezia and Anna’s faithful maidservant Valeria, all the nude handmaidens and chief amongst their number, the gorgeous Glamara. Igor, the Count’s loyal Gate-keeper, and Dracula’s wickedly bewitching Cousin Carmilla, who is now the Count’s captive, are also present.

Given that the crumbling castle in darkest Transylvania is already occupied by the Count’s mother, his siblings and all of their servants, as you can imagine it looks certain to be quite the crush. Buckle your seatbelts, dear readers and fellow vampire enthusiasts. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is dedicated to the late Sir Christopher Lee, whose performances in the HAMMER ‘Dracula’ films inspired every word of it. May he rest in peace… until he rises once more from the crypt in which he lieth…

FANGS AND FOREPLAY: THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA: THE TRANSYLVANIA YEARS. BOOK 4- PART 33.

AN EROTIC HORROR NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Anna hurried along the damp, mould-shrouded and cobwebbed corridors of Castle Dracula in the dead of night, dishevelled and disorientated, desperately desirous of reaching her own bedchamber without being seen by other members of the family.

Glamara was the Count’s personal little spy; if she’d seen what had just transpired between Anna and Darius in the little graveyard, she’d have waited at the castle gates for the Count’s carriage to return in her haste to be the first to give him the unfavourable news.

Anna was in shock. She was in denial. She was in distress. She was in a state unlike any other she’d ever experienced before, but then she’d never before been unfaithful to her lord and master, Count Dracula, the one real love of her life, the first and best and only lover she’d ever known. She could scarcely comprehend what she had done; the enormity of it was just too overwhelming.

She reached the door of her own bedchamber, the one to which the Count made his frequent nocturnal visitations, though in truth they were never frequent enough, and flung it open with a crash. Valeria was inside the room, tidying away some clothes of Anna’s into a cupboard. She whirled round, startled, at the tumultuous entrance of her mistress.

‘Help me off with this dress!’ urged Anna, tears spilling down her face and blotting her carefully applied dark eye make-up. ‘Get it off me! I want it burned!’

Hurriedly, Valeria began to grapple with the hooks and eyes at the back of the purple gown, then, once it was removed from Anna’s protesting body, she opened the bedroom door and threw it into the corridor outside, simply for lack of anything else to do with it. She turned back to her mistress, to find that Anna had flung herself down on the bed, stark naked underneath the discarded gown, and was sobbing as if her heart would break.

‘Why, Mistress Anna,’ Valeria said, greatly alarmed, ‘I beg of you to tell me what has distressed you so? It cannot be so bad as all that, surely?’

‘Oh, Valeria, my dear, good, loyal Valeria, I can assure you that it is every bit as bad, and worse!’

‘Won’t you confide in me, dear mistress? I will help you all I can, I swear!’

‘I know you would, Valeria, I know you would, but there is no help for this, no help at all! I have done something so dreadful that there can be no redemption for me.’

Anna howled all the harder, so much so that Valeria rushed to her and threw her arms about her mistress’s heaving, sob-wracked body. Valeria had never seen Anna in such a state. Even when the Count had to go away on one of his frequent business trips and Anna was depressed for days or even weeks at a time, she never usually cried as hard as this.

‘There, there, my pet, my darling, my angel, my love,’ cooed Valeria, stroking Anna’s tear-soaked hair back off her face. ‘Tell Valeria everything, if it will make you feel happier. Tell Valeria what it is that you think you’ve done. I am certain it is nothing so bad that we can’t put it right between us.’

‘I have just had sexual relations with Darius Karnstein!’ Anna screamed. ‘Down in the gardens just now. Now, you foolish woman, now do you see why this cannot be put right?’

Valeria recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She looked at Anna with absolute horror in her dark, lustrous eyes, looking as if she couldn’t even begin to comprehend such a monstrous act. Anna didn’t blame her. She could scarcely comprehend it herself.

An hour ago, she’d been quietly seated on the stone bench in the little overgrown graveyard on Count Dracula’s property, mourning the Count’s absence and feeling lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life, dead or Un-dead. Then Darius had come along, with his charm and his sympathy and his flattery and his admiration, and, in the face of all the considerable weapons he had in his arsenal, not least of which were his strikingly handsome face and figure, she had come undone.

He’d been so easy to talk to, and he’d seemed so perfectly to understand her predicament, that of the lonely wife who was made to stay behind and look after the children while her husband travelled gaily here, there and everywhere on his business trips without a care in the world.

‘Why, it’s positively criminal for such a beautiful woman to be left so often alone,’ he’d murmured in his smooth, silky educated tones.

He’d looked at her as if he really appreciated what he saw, and also as if he wanted very much to know what she looked like without her clothes on. Anna had felt the beginnings of a familiar heat low down in her belly, and she’d flushed and lowered her eyes and tried to move away from him on the bench but suddenly his hand was in the front of her low-cut gown, cupping and caressing one soft, white breast while his mouth was seeking out hers and finding it and possessing it…

The sexual congress had not equalled her husband the Count’s superior love-making, but it had been just what she’d needed at that time, nonetheless. He’d positioned her so that she was kneeling with her back to him on the bench, then he’d raised her gown and entered her from behind, the whole time caressing her breasts, which he’d exposed to the night air, and her swollen belly, big now with her husband’s child.

Anna was ashamed now to think how wanton she’d been, pushing her buttocks and pussy back towards him with all her energies, grunting and groaning like a rutting sow being serviced by the boar and not caring that her pendulous teats were bare and swaying wildly back and forth with the movement of their two bodies. She’d been needy and lonely and love-starved and she’d allowed these feelings to rule her, allowed them to make her behave like a whore in her husband’s absence.

Afterwards, Darius had coolly wiped himself on her purple gown and sat down on the bench, lazily smoking a cigarette, while she endeavoured to collect herself after what they’d done, though not without some difficulty. Her whole body was trembling and she’d had to ask him for help with re-fastening her gown at the back. She could not possibly return to the castle with her gown hanging about her waist and her bosoms uncovered in a most unseemly fashion.

‘Goodnight, sweet Anna, goodnight,’ he’d said then, watching in apparent amusement while she fled to the relative safety of the castle.

‘What will I do, Valeria?’ she asked her handmaiden now, her voice still stifled with sobs. ‘Whatever will I do about the Count? He’ll kill me, which I deserve, or he’ll send me away from him forever, and I couldn’t bear that, I couldn’t! He might as well kill me, because I will surely die without him! Oh, my dearest, most faithful handmaiden and loyal friend, Valeria, what on earth shall I do?’

Valeria looked at her blankly, as if she’d never seen her before, then shook her head with tears forming in her eyes.

‘I don’t know, Mistress Anna,’ she whispered, shocked. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, women’s fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA- 3 EROTIC HORROR NOVELLAS BY SANDRA HARRIS FREE TO DOWNLOAD FROM TODAY UNTIL FRIDAY!!!

public domain anna vampire

BOOK ONE: So, you thought that the Victorians just spent their time quietly drinking tea and genteelly repressing their innermost desires, did you? Well, you were WRONG! The household of the wealthy Carfax family is a hotbed of deliciously deviant carnality and vampire sex. The beautiful Lady Anna Carfax is abducted by none other than Count Dracula himself and is treated to the sexual awakening of a lifetime, or should that be undead-time…? The rest of the Carfax family, servants definitely included, are in and out of each others’ bedchambers like rats up the proverbial drainpipe. Even Sherlock Holmes and Jack The Ripper make an appearance in this shockingly scandalous paranormal sex-and-spanking romp set in Victorian times. It’s inspired by the late great Christopher Lee’s smoulderingly sexy performance as Count Dracula in the Hammer Horror films, and you’d have to be undead from the neck up to miss out on it…

ALL 3 BOOKS COMPLETELY FREE TO DOWNLOAD FROM FEB. 19TH-23!!!

BOOK TWO: So, has the horny-as-hell Count Dracula settled down and mended his lecherous ways now that he’s a baby-daddy-to-be…? You’d better believe he hasn’t! If anything, he’s hornier than ever. Join him as he bed-hops his way around Victorian London, giving serving wenches and duchesses alike the benefit of his extraordinary- ahem!- ‘swordsmanship.’ Heaving bosoms, thrashed buttocks and stiff members abound in this wickedly saucy sex-and-spanking romp from the mistress of horror erotica herself, Sandra Harris.

ALL 3 BOOKS COMPLETELY FREE TO DOWNLOAD FROM FEB. 19TH-23!!!

BOOK THREE: It’s 1889 and Count Dracula and his beautiful bride Anna Carfax have had their first child together, the fat little cherub they’ve called Lucrezia. But the randy Count is still bonking and spanking his way through Victorian England’s population of lusty, bosomy serving wenches and quite a few specimens of horny aristocratic totty too. And that’s not likely to change, even though his mysterious cousin Carmilla Karnstein, with whom he has a long and dark history, is coming to visit him from the wilds of their Transylvanian homeland… Heaving bosoms, thrashed buttocks and stiff members galore, all courtesy of Sandra Harris, the undisputed mistress of erotic horror.

ALL 3 BOOKS COMPLETELY FREE TO DOWNLOAD FROM FEB. 19TH-23!!!

 

ALL 3 BOOKS COMPLETELY FREE TO DOWNLOAD FROM FEB. 19TH-23!!!

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger, poet and book-and-movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE. (1979) REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

nosferatu 1979 jonathan castle

NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE (NOSFERATU: PHANTOM DER NACHT/NOSFERATU: PHANTOM OF THE NIGHT.) 1979. BASED ON BRAM STOKER’S ‘DRACULA.’

DIRECTED AND CO-PRODUCED BY WERNER HERZOG. SCREENPLAY BY WERNER HERZOG.

MUSIC BY POPOL VUH. CINEMATOGRAPHY BY JŐRG SCHMIDT-REITWEIN. RATS TRAINED BY MAARTEN’T HART.

STARRING KLAUS KINSKI, ISABELLE ADJANI, ROLAND TOPOR, WALTER LADENGAST AND BRUNO GANZ.

REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Dedicated to Bruno Ganz, who passed away last week.

‘The master is coming.’

‘The hold is teeming with rats.’

‘Will you come to me, and be my ally?’

‘Mother Superior, stop the black coffins…!’

‘The cause must be gone into with scientific thoroughness.’

‘We are delivering this man, who appears to belong to this house.’

‘Go now, to Riga. The army of rats and the Black Death go with you.’

‘In the evening, the mate who had the watch disappeared without trace.’

‘Though the vampire is an unnatural being, he must obey some natural laws.’

‘If a woman who is pure of heart can make the vampire forget the cry of the cock…’

‘Join us, please. We have all caught the plague, and must enjoy each day that is left.’

‘I know who you are from Jonathan’s diary. Since he has been with you, he is ruined.’

This film doesn’t have a silent psychopath in a mask stalking half-dressed women and unsuspecting men with his enormous butcher knife. It doesn’t have a Mother-fixated madman stabbing people to death in the shower while dressed in women’s clothing, and neither does it have a well-spoken maniac who likes to eat people’s internal organs with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

In this sense, maybe, it’s not what some people think of when they think of horror movies. What the film does have, however, is a lead character of such subtlety, cruelty and even human-like frailty that he surely deserves his standing as one of the creepiest and most notable horror icons of all time: Nosferatu The Vampyre.

This film is possibly my favourite horror film of all time, jostling for the coveted first place alongside Anthony Schaffer’s THE WICKER MAN (1973) and Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO (1960). These would be my Top Three Desert Island films, although there are days when I’d genuinely considering just bringing three copies of Herzog’s NOSFERATU, just to be on the safe side…!

The film was written, produced and directed by Werner Herzog, a German film-maker who made his first movie in 1961 at the age of nineteen and who now has more than sixty feature and documentary films to his name.

It is one of five movies he made with German actor Klaus Kinski, with whom he enjoyed a well-documented relationship that was both productive and wildly tempestuous, given the intensity and passionate nature of each of the protagonists.

This is Herzog’s best film, in my own personal opinion, and Klaus Kinski’s best as well. (Although I loved him also in Sergio Leone’s dusty, gritty and sweaty spaghetti Western, FOR A FEW DOLLARS MORE.) 

Bruno Ganz, Switzerland’s most lauded actor who sadly passed away a few days ago, is superb in NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE and my personal favourite of all the screen Jonathan Harkers. This and DOWNFALL or DER UNTERGANG (2004), in which he plays a certain Adolf Hitler in his last days in the bunker, are his two best performances, again in my own humble opinion.

When people think of Nosferatu, their minds frequently conjure up an image of Max Schreck who played him so brilliantly in the silent production of nearly a century ago, and fair play to old Maxie, he did a cracking job but for me, Kinski is Nosferatu.

He is the bald-headed, sunken-eyed, strangely melancholy creature of the night who resides in his crumbling castle in the Carpathian mountains and feeds off the blood of any humans unfortunate enough to cross his path.

He is desperately lonely and would nearly welcome death at this stage, as an alternative to spending yet more centuries in terrible isolation, craving company but scaring away anyone with whom he comes in contact. You actually feel sorry for the vampire in this film because Kinski plays him so subtly nuanced and so much more of a tragic figure than previously portrayed.

It’s well-known enough at this stage that Werner Herzog, a very clever man indeed, thought that F.W. Murnau’s 1922 film NOSFERATU was the best thing to come out of Germany since Oktoberfest, lol. This was the version of Bram Stoker’s DRACULA that Herzog had in mind when he made his own film version.

It’s as magnificent a tribute as has ever been made. Though I’ve always loved the HAMMER HORROR DRACULA movies starring the iconic and handsome Christopher Lee, I don’t think that anyone but Herzog himself has made a better or more visually stunning film of Bram Stoker’s legendary vampire novel. Every shot is a work of art. Some of them are so beautiful they could even be paintings. What am I saying? They could all be paintings.

The film begins with Jonathan Harker, a clerk in a real estate company, being told by his employer, the decidedly odd and giggly Mr. Renfield, that he must cross the Carpathian mountains to bring legal papers to the rich and reclusive Count Dracula. The Count, you see, has decided to buy a house in their area, the pretty and picturesque town of Wismar in Germany.

Jonathan’s wife, Lucy, played by the stunningly beautiful Isabelle Adjani, begs him not to go as she has had premonitions of the most profound evil but Jonathan disregards her fears and sets off blithely on his journey. I love the way he more or less says to his wife:

‘I’m off now, dear, off to the land of wolves and robbers and phantoms and spirits for several weeks, possibly forever. Well, cheerio, then…!’

The thoughtless git. It certainly seems as if no man, however bang-tidy his missus is, is going to turn down the chance of a business trip that gets him out of the house for a bit. I never met a man yet who’d say no to the chance of a few weeks without the old trouble-and-strife, the wife.

Anyway, the film is worth watching solely for the shots of the glorious but lonely countryside through which he passes on his way to Count Dracula’s castle and also for the superb musical score by German electronic band Popol Vuh.

Check out the opening credits as well, by the way, in which the deliciously spooky music plays while the real mummified bodies (which will creep the living daylights out of you because they’re the real deal!) are put on display for our delectation and edification. That music is repeated throughout the film and I can assure you that it will haunt you for the rest of your days. If you have a soul at all…

As Jonathan nears the castle, he is warned by the locals to turn back and go home before he loses his life but he has come too far to turn back now. Disquieted and edgy, he continues on his way.

The fantastic music reaches a crescendo as he finally enters the courtyard of Count Dracula then fades away as the giant castle doors creak open to reveal… Nosferatu himself, standing at the top of the steps with a smile of quiet welcome on his colourless face.

For Jonathan, events take on a surreal appearance from this point onwards. Nosferatu begins to feed on his blood from the first night of his arrival. While poor Lucy frets and works herself up into a right old state about her absent spouse back in Wismar, Jonathan is trapped in Nosferatu’s castle of mould-stained, whitewashed walls and silent, dusty rooms. He is powerless to prevent the vampire from feasting on him and gradually sapping his strength and will.

There are some moments of genuine heartstopping horror in this part of the film, which incidentally is my favourite part. Check out the moment during Jonathan’s first meal at the castle when he realises that his host is a monster. Talk about awkward. What’s the etiquette for this situation, for crying out loud…?

I dare the viewer not to jump when Nosferatu appears soundlessly in Jonathan’s bedroom in the dead of night, his claws expanding as he moves in for the kill, or when Jonathan pushes back the slab of rock in the dungeon to reveal a sleeping Nosferatu, claws folded and eyes wide open, staring at nothing. Jonathan does some pretty good backing away in this situation, check it out.

The latter half of the film sees Nosferatu travelling to Wismar by sea with his black coffins and his plague of rats. The scene where the ship of death sails silently up the canals of Wismar while the unwitting inhabitants of the town slumber peacefully in their beds sends a shiver down my spine every time I see it. In no time at all the town is overrun with rats and the plague.

Check out the scene where one of the rats (I believe eleven thousand were used in all) appears to be making a grab for personal glory by standing up as tall as he can make himself and appearing to sing his heart out, X FACTOR-style. So darling, but I still wouldn’t want to have to accommodate all eleven thousand of the little beggars while they’re on location, would you? Can you imagine the breakfast orders?

Any-hoo, crazy old Mr. Renfield, who is revealed to be Count Dracula’s loyal servant, is beside himself with happiness at the arrival in the town of the ‘Master.’ These are trying times indeed for Lucy Harker, however. Jonathan has found his way home but he no longer recognises her and sits in his chair all day giggling and chattering nonsense, his mind and body destroyed by Dracula.

The love-starved and lonely Nosferatu comes to Lucy in her bedroom and begs her to be his concubine and companion down through the centuries to come, but Lucy holds fast to her love for Jonathan and sends the Count away empty-handed. It’s a good offer, given that she’s more or less down one husband now. I think she should have taken it, personally. It’s tough being a single woman in the time of the plague…!

Now we come to the climax of this gorgeously-shot film. I’d better warn you, there will be spoilers, but I’m guessing that most horror movie fans know the DRACULA story inside-out and upside-down by now anyway.

The town of Wismar has been devastated by Nosferatu and his delightful plague of rats. The scene where some of the townspeople gather for a grotesque parody of a ‘last supper’ in the town square while the rats climb all over them is a chilling one.

The music here is truly awe-inspiring. I get chills every time I listen to the hauntingly beautiful song that’s playing. It’s a traditional Georgian folk song called ‘Tsintskaro’ and it’s the most beautiful piece of music ever used in a film.

Lucy tries to tell the town physician, Dr. Van Helsing, that Nosferatu is the reason for all the death and destruction in the town of Wismar but the good doctor is a man of science and refuses to believe in the existence of such supernatural creatures as vampires. In this sense, he’s kind of the opposite of his namesake in every other DRACULA movie, in which Van Helsing is actually the vampire-hunter, not the sceptic.

When Lucy’s closest friend and neighbour, Mina, is murdered by Count Dracula, Lucy does the only thing left to her to do. She offers herself to Nosferatu, in the hope that she can keep him occupied throughout the night and make him ‘forget the cry of the cock’ in the morning, thereby causing him to be killed by the first rays of the morning sun. He was clearly listening too hard to the cry of his own cock, heh-heh-heh.

The scene where Nosferatu comes to Lucy in her bedroom and finally feeds on her delicious blood is erotic in the extreme. It always brings back my ‘horny,’ last spotted around the time of the break-up of my last relationship, legging it into a taxi-cab with an overnight bag and an airplane ticket.

Lucy is dressed all in white, her bedclothes are white and delicate flowers in shades of pastel sit on the night-stand and litter the bed. The Vampyre gently pulls back her clothing to look at her body (who says vampires only dig blood?), then he rests his claw on one full rounded breast as he lowers his head to her neck and begins to suck.

They remain locked together in a beautiful and moving sexual congress all night, and when the first rays of the sun begin to filter into Lucy’s bedroom the following morning, she pulls Nosferatu back down to her once more.

The besotted Vampyre thus ‘forgets the cry of the cock’ and dies. Awfully tough luck, old boy. Lucy listens to his death agonies with a smile on her face and then, knowing that she has saved the town of Wismar from the horror of Count Dracula, she closes her eyes and dies herself.

There’s a great little twist at the end which I won’t tell you about here. You’ll just have to go and watch the film for yourself, which I hope you will anyway. (Yeah, I know I’ve told you guys nearly everything else but we’ve gotta draw the line somewhere…!)

Personally speaking, as I may have hinted earlier, if I had to choose only one film to watch for the rest of my life, it would be this one. I want to be buried with it. In the absence of Nosferatu himself coming to me in person in my flower-strewn bedroom and bending his head to my newly-washed neck, then I want to be buried clutching my copy of the film, the coffin lid closing on the sight of my fingers laced around his deathly-white face on the front of the DVD box. And when you watch this film, I can pretty much promise you that you will too.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger, poet and book-and-movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

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AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor