I thoroughly enjoyed both of these instalments of the TWILIGHT movie franchise. Who doesn’t love a comically mismatched wedding (a human female and a vampire male), an hilarious honeymoon where sex with the groom nearly cripples the bride, a pregnancy that makes itself known after just two weeks and a baby that’s practically walking and talking unaided by the time the loved-up couple exit the plane at the end of the honeymoon? And I’m only exaggerating, like, a teensy tiny little bit, you’ll see.

So, to elaborate a tad, Bella Swan, human female of Forks, Washington, recently graduated from high school, is marrying Edward Cullen, local vampire, nicknamed Sparkles by me for What He Does In The Sunlight, the big wuss, lol.

Their families and friends are out in full force to support them, even though Bella’s lovely kind father Charlie, the Sheriff of Forks, has his misgivings, and he doesn’t even know yet that the Cullens are bleedin’ vampires to a man…!

The wedding is a fairy-tale one, with rose petals everywhere and Bella in a beautiful white dress, because she really is still a virgin. The honeymoon is on a gorgeous paradise island which they’ll have to themselves, except for the caretakers. Edward and Bella finally do on the island what they’ve been threatening to do all franchise… have sex…

It seems to go well, but next morning their bedroom is completely trashed and there are big bruises all over Bella, because she’s still only a puny human and Edward is a powerful vampire who, believe it or not, was holding back when he made love to Bella so that he didn’t crush her to death in his manly kung-fu grip or something.

Two weeks later, Bella and Edward have had to dash home because Bella is seemingly pregnant, which all the vampires seem to be shocked at for some reason. Can’t vampires get human females pregnant if they have sex? It’s what seems to have happened, nonetheless, and the Cullen family now have to deal with it.

Giving birth to a vampire’s baby when you’re still a human is a dangerous business and it very nearly kills Bella. Her father Charlie is terrified for her health in general, though he doesn’t know about the baby yet, and her other true love, part-time werewolf Jacob Black- the wolves are the mortal enemies of the vampires- wants to murder Edward for putting the love of both their lives in such mortal danger.

Sparkles has caused this entire ridiculous hoo-ha with his big sparkly willy. Yep, willies- sparkly or not- will do that. Ah, willies, is it? (Read in the style of a grizzly old frontiers-man!) Came across a-couple of ‘em in mah time, up there on Bear Mountain. Mostly bears up there most of the year, don’t usually get no willies no-how, but that one summer, oh, how I seen ‘em…! So many darn willies. The one that got away, even bigger that the two I catched…!

The CGI and special effects around Bella’s physical deterioration are actually superb, although it’s uncomfortable to see her looking like a concentration camp victim. The baby is taking all of Bella’s nutrition- yep, they’ll do that!- and it looks like Bella might genuinely die of starvation when Carlisle, the Cullen family paterfamilias and a doctor of medicine, steps in and feeds Bella a load of human blood just to stop her from dying of hunger.

A sort of Uma-Thurman-in-PULP FICTION situation occurs very dramatically, however, and Edward Cullen’s instantaneous John Travolta-style reaction results in the one thing that Bella has wanted all along, apart from her precious baby… Bella becomes a vampire, and, boy, is there going to be a lot of explaining to do in the Christmas newsletter this year…!

BREAKING DAWN 2 sees the Cullens and the Blacks getting acclimatised to having the new baby around. Bella has named the little girl ‘Renesmee’ in honour of both their mothers. Jacob Black, the part werewolf, has ‘imprinted’ on the baby, which means that he is honour-bound to protect her from all harm for the rest of both their lives. I think it also means that he has to marry her when she’s of an age, which is quite creepy…!

The baby has grown at an unnatural rate, and is practically getting ready to go off to college when word comes that the vampire police, the Volturi, are coming from Italy to kill the baby, as they believe her to be an ‘Immortal’ baby, one that could be a threat to them. She’s not what they think, however, so the Cullens go about amassing ‘witnesses,’ ie, other vampires, to put in a good word for them. For all the good it might do…

The battle itself is great fun. Dakota Fanning as the bitchy Jane, Volturi Queen of Pain, gets knocked on her ass, as does Michael Sheen as Aro, the highly camp leader of this very camp conglomeration of vampires. Bella, the newborn vampire, acquits herself well in her first skirmish and is a fiercely loving and loyal mother to Renesmee.

Rami Malek, who stars as Freddie Mercury in the superb BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY (2018), weighs in on the side of the Cullens, as do the werewolves, while Jacob Black heroically guards Renesmee. But, when the dust settles, where will Bella, Edward and Renesmee stand?

I assume the Cullens will continue to stand where they always have, in their beautiful glasshouse in the forest, in a straight line as usual, fully dressed at all times in smart-casual designer clobber. They’re never caught short or taken by surprise or doing anything when Alice has one of her ‘visions,’ which always require immediate action.

No-one’s ever in the toilet, or fiddling around with the fuseboard or doing a Sudoku or anything. I really think they must stand around in a state of suspended animation until Alice comes in and tersely delivers one of her pronouncements, which are never good news. They all look like dolls, action figures that have to be moved into position by the child who owns them. Maybe a child does own them! It would explain a lot.

The entire cast get a shout-out in the end credits while the viewers are free to bawl their eyes out from the very opening bars of Christina Perri’s song, A Thousand Years, which even I, a relative newbie to the franchise, will always now associate with the TWILIGHT movies.

I’ve put the cart before the horse a bit, I know, by watching the films first, but I now intend to read the books as well. I don’t do owt by halves, me. Does that make me a Twilight mom, albeit ten years too late? If it does, it does. Sparkle on, Twilight fans. Sparkle on…  


Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, poet, short story writer and film and book blogger. She has studied Creative Writing and Vampirology. 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:

Her new book, THIRTEEN STOPS EARLIER, is out now from Poolbeg Books:

Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books:

The sequel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS LATER,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books:


THE STORY SO FAR. 06/02/2021.

Well, here we are again, and about time too! Some of my readers might remember that I was obliged to abandon Anna and her Count Dracula to their own devices for a bit in December 2019, in order to concentrate on my romantic trilogy, THIRTEEN STOPS.

The first book, THIRTEEN STOPS, came out in June 2020, just as the first COVID-19 Lockdown was coming to an end. THIRTEEN STOPS LATER, the sequel, will be out sometime this Spring.

I never thought I’d be away from my beloved Anna and her Count for as long as a year (and what a year it’s been!), so now, even though I’m still up to my tonsils writing Book Four of the trilogy (yes, yes, I know what a trilogy is, lol!), I’m coming back to them and I hope they’re as happy to see me as I surely am to see them.

But you’ll need catching up after so much time has passed! How far into Book Five did we get? Well, Dracula is still resident in his isolated stone castle on top of a rock in the Carpathian Mountains, and with him reside the following;

His wife Anna, and their two children, Lucrezia and Baby Vlad; his cousin and childhood sweetheart, Carmilla Karnstein, and Carmilla’s handsome grown-up son Darius, who is currently engaged in having as much sex as he can with Dracula’s four ravishing sisters, Samara, Salome, Schira and Sabine.

Dracula’s widowed mother Ursula is by no means past her sell-by date. She has plenty to occupy herself sexually with at the moment, having full ownership of the lovely sisters Un-dead Lysette and Eveline Karsch and their Un-dead academic father Bruno. How can she wring the maximum amusement from the newly-reunited little family?

English honeymooners Edward and Vanessa Wintergreen haven’t been seen by the local villagers since they accepted an invitation to dine at Dracula’s Castle. That’s because Edward has been brutally murdered by Cousin Carmilla, and his shy, virginal wife Vanessa is now Dracula’s mistress, locked away somewhere in the castle where (he hopes!) neither a jealous Carmilla nor an even more jealous Anna can get at her.

Dracula is not remotely concerned as to any possible consequences of his murderous actions, but in London as we speak, one Jeremy Wintergreen, younger brother of Edward Wintergreen, is preparing to leave for Eastern Europe to attempt to find out what fate has befallen his newly-married brother and his young bride Vanessa, who haven’t been in touch with him by mail for weeks. Will he manage to ruffle Dracula’s feathers even slightly in the search for his brother, or will Dracula get to him first…? Only time will tell, dear readers!

Also resident in the castle is Dracula’s older brother Nikolai, who fiercely resents Dracula’s seniority over him in the scheme of things and would absolutely love to depose him in some way, preferably one that involves the most possible pain and discomfort to poor old Dracula. Think THE GODFATHER, if you will; he’s the Fredo of the operation! Nikolai’s mistress is Zena, by the way.

Valeria is Anna’s devoted personal maid and a former Chief Handmaiden of Dracula’s, Paloma and Persephone are the children’s nannies, and the castle is, of course, full of Dracula’s beautiful nude handmaidens who wait nightly for their Count to come to them, so that they can fulfil his deepest, darkest sexual desires while he flays the skin from their perfect bodies with his favourite whip.

Igor the huncback is Dracula’s bodyguard and go-fer, as in, Oi, Igor! Will you go-fer a beautiful young village girl for me at once and bring her back here post-haste? Igor knows where the bodies are buried, believe me…! Desdemona is his mistress.

Meanwhile, down in the village that lives permanently in the shadow of the castle, Magdalena the barmaid sleeps with both father and son in Ivor’s Tavern. Leon the son is a fine figure of a man who can satisfy even the insatiable Maggie’s sexual desires, while Ivor the tavern-owner can give her the security she’s lacked all her life. How long can she keep playing one off against the other, though?

Count Dracula still has unfinished business, you might recall, with a certain Miss Atalanta Pomeroy, the art mistress from Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy for the Education of the Daughters of Gentlefolks, which Miss Peabody was misinformed enough to establish in the midst of the Carpathian Mountains, but, hey, she was left the building as a legacy, what would YOU do with it, if not establish an exclusive girls’ school for sexy rich minxes in the middle of nowhere? And somewhere where the Count can pick them off one by one as well, just like shooting fish in a barrel…!

Anyway, are we all caught up now? We’re going on to Chapter Twenty-One in Book Five, in which Anna mourns the deterioration of her relationship with the Count since he found out she slept with his son with Carmilla, Darius, during her second pregnancy. Well, what does she expect? A man has his pride…!

So read on, dear vampire fans, and enjoy, safe in the knowledge that, whatever else happens, we’ll stay with the story now till it reaches a natural climax. Or an unnatural one…



‘Is he coming?’ said Anna, her heart pounding with the anticipation.

Valeria shook her head. “No sign yet. Go back to your dressing-table, mistress, and we’ll continue on with your hair.’

‘Are you sure he received my note?’ Anna looked distraught, and Valeria eased her down onto the dressing-table chair by one bare shoulder as she nodded and said: ‘I delivered it into Lilith’s hands myself, mistress.’

‘Lilith!’ Anna almost spat the name out, like the pips of a grape. ‘She hates me! I will lay wager with you that she will destroy my missive and not let him see as much as a corner of it!’

Valeria sighed. She loved Anna to bits, but her endless speculation about her husband the Count’s whereabouts and motivations and the motivations of everyone around him could be tiring at times.

‘Lilith doesn’t hate you, mistress,’ she said, lifting up the silver-backed hairbrush and continuing to brush Anna’s long golden hair, which she’d been doing before Anna had sent her to the bedroom door once more to see if she could spy the Count, en route to his wife’s bedchamber.

‘All those handmaidens hate me, Valeria! They all want to be in my place, married to Dracula and bearing him his children. Every single one of them would usurp me if she could, and well you know it!’

Valeria couldn’t deny it. Though the handmaidens were merely Dracula’s lowly naked sex slaves, it was in their nature to be always pushing themselves forward, trying to single themselves out in the Count’s mind for his special attentions. Whores they were, and sly with it, and Lilith was more sly than most. Anna was probably right to mistrust her.

Anna stared at her reflection in the mirror while Valeria began to painstakingly thread dozens of jewelled stars on the finest of gold chains through her blonde hair. She frequently fretted that her looks might be going and had to remind herself sternly that she was no longer a mortal woman, but a vampire, like Dracula and his harem. Her looks would never go.

She picked up a powder puff and began idly patting her ample cleavage with it. Her breasts looked huge and pale in the low-cut, pale blue sleeveless gown she wore. Hopefully Dracula would think so too, and tear the fragile, flimsy fabric from her body before making savage love to her.

As was usual when she was expecting him, she wore no undergarments. She remembered her wedding night with the Count in Birney Castle in England many, oh, so many moons ago now, when Valeria had informed her gravely that nothing, no garment, however fine or flimsy, must ever come between Anna and the master. And nothing ever had come between them, unless you counted Darius, the bastard son of Dracula’s cousin Carmilla…!

Anna shuddered and forced her mind off the subject of Darius and his hateful mother. Maybe one day she’d knock that scheming, manipulative bitch Carmilla into the middle of the last century where she belonged, but now was not the time. Carmilla was as deadly dangerous as a poisonous snake. It would take a lot of cunning on Anna’s part to depose her beautiful, violet-eyed rival.

The door slammed open and Count Dracula stood framed in the doorway, impossibly tall, well-groomed and swathed in his black cloak with the heavy silver clasp of ancient silver.

His dark hair, still only slightly greying at the temples, had been slicked back with a damp comb and, despite the fact that he shaved religiously every evening upon waking, his powerful jaw was already darkened with stubble, such was his overwhelming masculinity.

‘You requested my presence, my dear Madame?’ he said sarcastically before entering the room and making Anna what seemed almost like a parody of a deep courtly bow. ‘Leave us!’ he shot out of the side of his mouth at Valeria, who bowed respectfully back and instantly fled the room.

Anna slipped off the dressing-table chair and ran to him, clutching the folds of his cape tightly between her fingers, as tightly as if she would never let him go.

‘Where have you been?’ she cried, looking up into his handsome face as if expecting to see answers written there. ‘I’ve not seen you in weeks! Have you been with her? With Carmilla?’

The Count sighed and began to disrobe, tossing first his cloak and then his dark frock-coat onto the armchair beside his side of the bed.

‘I’ve been busy. On business. Pray don’t ask me a barrage of questions, not if you want me to stay.’

Anna’s full lower lip trembled mutinously, but she managed to hold her tongue. He grinned, knowing what it cost her- cost any woman- to stay silent under duress. A half-dressed Dracula then sat with her on the edge of the huge four-poster bed and took her in his arms.

His kiss left her light-headed, and she swooned back onto the bed while he divested first himself and then his wife of their garments. She wept with impending gratitude when her eyes beheld his massive male organ, fully erect now.

‘Oh, Dracula, make love to me, please, I beg you! I need you so much!’

‘Why else d’you think I’ve come here, wench?’ he teased. ‘To seek your assistance in doing my tax returns?’ He spread her thighs and plunged deep inside her, making her cry out loud with the intensity of his thrust. ‘I think not.’

Afterwards, they lay entwined together in a tangle of sweaty limbs. Anna put her hand on his chest, heaving with the aftermath of their lust, and gazed adoringly up at his face. His closed, heavy-lidded eyes were thickly fringed with the long dark lashes that were the only feminine thing about him.

Oh Dracula, how I love you, and now, because of what I mistakenly did with Darius, I dare not even tell you how much for fear that you might scorn me! Instead, she said shyly: ‘I haven’t been whipped properly in an age, Master.’

He scratched an armpit and yawned loudly. ‘Hmmm? What’s that? Haven’t I ordered Valeria to whip you nightly in my absence?’

‘It’s not the same, Master. It’s not the same at all!’

‘Fetch me my whip then, you little hussy, and I’ll see what I can do to rectify this deplorable situation.’

Anna, unable to keep from smiling all over her face, scurried to the whip cupboard in the corner of the room and fetched his favourite whip, his preferred instrument of punishment when it came to beating her.

She thanked her lucky stars that his interest in disciplining her hadn’t waned an iota. That was good. As long as he still wanted to do that, and make love to her beforehand as well, there was a chance for them.


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:

Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books.




Carla: ‘I’m staying, if you’ll have me.’

Captain Kronos: ‘Oh, I’ll have you…’

‘It’s time to make a move, my friend. It’s time to kill a vampire.’

The only man alive feared by the living dead…

This Hammer film is a sexy blend of supernatural horror, ie, vampires, but also swashbuckling, because there’s some swordfighting in it too. Not too much, I’m happy to say, as I much prefer the neck-biting. Not that there’s much of that here.

This nineteenth century English village is being plagued by a terrifying hooded vampire who bites its victim’s mouth, and then drains from the victim all their youth and vitality, leaving them a dessicated and horribly ancient corpse. That’s not the kind of thing you want to see happen to the bosomy young women of your neighbourhood, is it?

It’s very reminiscent of Hammer’s film, COUNTESS DRACULA, in which the ravishing Ingrid Pitt as the titular Countess bathes in the blood of murdered young women in order to preserve her youthful good looks.

When she discovers that the effects can, and do, wear off, the Countess begins to get careless and less fussy regarding whom she kills and, of course, it all goes pear-shaped for her in the fullness of time.

Anyway, this village’s local medic, Doctor Marcus (John Carson, THE PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES), is concerned enough about the deaths to call in an old army chum of his, to solve the gruesome mystery.

The chum is a handsome blonde Adonis called Kronos, with flowing blonde locks to rival Shane Briant’s rather bouffant tresses, and delicious Scandinavian cheekbones, although he’s not Scandinavian at all: rather, he’s played by a German actor and his voice had to be dubbed. Kronos is a swordsman extraordinaire, and he’s great in bed too, lol.

His entourage includes the hunch-backed Professor Hieronymus Grost, an elderly academic with whom he has one of those genuine and lovely ‘man friendships,’ and Caroline Munro as Carla, a beautiful peasant girl whom Kronos has freed from the stocks. Why was she in the stocks, I hear you ask? Why, sir, I were dancing on the Sabbath, I were…! The cheeky hussy, lol again.

She’s so grateful to him for freeing her that she rewards him by getting naked and having hot steamy sex with him every time he turns around. Oh, he’s happy to have all the sex and all the fun and that, but you can tell he doesn’t love her, because as soon as he and Grost (‘We’re professional vampire hunters, my dear!’) get a lead on who the hooded killer might be, they use Carla as bait, and send her overnight into the very den of the lions themselves.

She’s a typical silly girl, however, and is only too happy to make a doormat of herself for Kronos to wipe his feet, or any other part of his anatomy, on. He doesn’t even care enough about her to so much as buy her a new dress, so she’s forced to spend the film in the same rags she wore while being pelted with rotten tomatoes in the stocks. When he leaves her, and guys like this always leave, she’ll be alone again and probably knocked up to boot. What? It’s the way it goes.

The aristocratic Durward family, consisting of a deceased paterfamilias, a grieving and reclusive materfamilias, an autocratic uppity son who’s definitely up to something (Shane Briant as Paul Durward), and his sister, who is almost certainly in on the shenanigans as well, is an extremely interesting family from the point of view of the murders and will bear careful watching.

John Carson is great (and surprisingly sexy with the longer hair!) as Dr. Marcus, Kronos’s old mucker, and Ian Hendry (CHILDREN OF THE DAMNED) is smashing as a psychotically cruel bar-room thug called Kerro.

Kerro’s employed by the Durward coachman, no less, to kill Kronos and the professor and put a halt to their vampire-hunting gallop, but Kronos makes mincemeat out of Kerro and his bully-boy cronies in a very funny scene.

It’s like something Clint Eastwood would do in one of his films. Like, where he’d shoot a room full of men with his eyes closed. And one hand tied behind his back. And his other hand wouldn’t move at all. And he wouldn’t even be in the room. Or the film. Who are we talking about, again? As the fella says in BLAZING SADDLES, don’t just stand there, grasping yo’ hands in pain. Let’s hear it for the Waco kid…!


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:

Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books.






This is possibly the most sumptuous, luxurious and gorgeous-looking vampire film ever made, probably because producer David Geffen was able to pour vast amounts of money into it.

Whereas, as we know, a lot of other vampire films have quite low budgets and they have to film in the director’s back garden because it’s a total wilderness and makes a great cemetery when you add a few cardboard gravestones and stuffed ravens to it, caw caw.

And how many independently-made vampire flicks are able to cast Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, the handsomest stars in the universe and probably still the highest-paid Hollywood stars in the world today, as their leading men? Exactly.

I’m halfway through reading Anne Rice’s fabulous book INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE: BOOK ONE IN THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES at the moment, so it seemed like an excellent time to re-visit the film, which I hadn’t seen in years. Of course, I should probably have waited to finish the book before I went reminding myself about the ending, but oh well. It’s sexy vampires; who could wait…?

One of the most important things to remember about this film is that Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt are bloody big rides in it and always will be, world without end, Amen. I’m not a big fan of Brad Pitt’s films, but I can allow that he has a certain physical and sexual appeal, ahem.

I’ve been in love with Tom Cruise since seeing him in VANILLA SKY in 2002, however. It’s one of my favourite films of all times. I went to see it six or seven weeks in a row back in those days when films stayed in the cinema for longer than five days.

It helped take my mind off an horrific break-up I was going through at the time, and I loved the soundtrack so much that I even contemplated buying two copies of the soundtrack in case anything ever happened to the original. That’s never happened to me before or since. I can’t even imagine that it ever might again.

The second thing to bear in mind is their hair in INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, oh my God, their hair! It’s truly lovely. Brad Pitt’s in particular is so thick and swishy and luxuriant and full that it’s enough to make his ex-squeeze Jennifer Aniston, herself famed for her swinging locks, pea-green with envy.

I’m not crazy about Tom Cruise’s blonde-coloured hair in it, but here is a guy who couldn’t be ugly or unattractive if he tried, so it’s all good. I love his million-dollar smile and his instantly recognisable Tom Cruise laugh, too. Oh, who am I kidding? Clearly, I just worship the ground he walks on, full stop.

Okay. Now that we’ve discussed the stuff that really matters, let’s get on with reviewing the movie. I enjoyed it immensely. Brad Pitt’s Louis de Pointe du Lac is a rich young plantation owner, and a man who is tired of life- life in late eighteenth-century New Orleans, that is- after the deaths of his wife and baby in childbirth.

This makes him the perfect victim in the eyes of Lestat de Lioncourt, Tom Cruise’s wildly charismatic vampire, who swoops in opportunistically and turns Louis into a creature of the night like himself.

The two male vampires live together in Louis’ lush plantation and terrorise the slaves with their weird habits, ungodly hours, unbridled womanising and the fact that they don’t eat people food or drink people drinks. They just drink… blood.

Lestat drinks human blood, naturellement, like any normal self-respecting vampire of this or any other era. Louis, however, refuses to chow down on the blood of humans, believing that it’s wrong- well, strictly speaking, it is– and will only kill assorted vermin and poultry (much to Lestat’s amusement) in order to keep himself alive. Ooops, I mean un-dead. Ah, you know what I mean.

Until he meets Kirsten Dunst’s Claudia, that is, a beautiful orphaned ten-year-old child (in the book, she’s only five) whom he is encouraged by Lestat to bring over to the dark side with them.

Why encouraged? Well, because Lestat fears losing Louis as his companion for the eternities to come, as Louis is not as enamoured or, a better word, accepting, of the vampire lifestyle as Lestat is. Louis doesn’t make the best of it and has a sour puss on him virtually the whole way through the movie.

Lestat, therefore, thinks that the arrival of their pretty little ‘daughter’ Claudia into their eccentric little household will help to cement their relationship. Just like an ordinary human woman- or man- might think that a baby will paper over the cracks in her/his marriage. Aw, it’s so sweet, the way that the un-dead think they’re people…

Anyway, this turns out to be, shall we say, not the best idea Lestat’s ever had. Though the three of them rub along perfectly happily together for years (just look at the cute way she cuddles up to Brad Pitt in his coffin), Claudia ultimately resents the way that she had no choice or say in the whole being turned into a vampire thing and she eventually begins to harbour murderous thoughts towards Lestat, the ‘maker’ of both her and poor gormless Louis. It’s okay, though. You can’t kill the un-dead. Or can you…?

Just to add that the European trip reveals a sick decadence even beyond the way in which life in eighteenth-century New Orleans is decadent, and has catastrophic results for all concerned.

I like Antonio Banderas as Armand, with his Cher wig and whispery voice, and Stephen Rea as Santiago is positively cruel and evil and makes Joel Grey as the M.C. in CABARET look like harmless old Uncle Gaybo hosting the Late Late Show. He’s so evil, he gives you the chills.

The functional framing device of the film sees Brad Pitt as Louis telling his story to Christian Slater’s reporter in modern times. He really opens up to the journalist, giving a warts-and-all portrayal of his life since being turned into a vampire by Lestat in 1791.

Kirsten Dunst turns in a phenomenal performance as the pretty, ringleted Claudia, given that she was only about twelve years old at the time of filming. If children are supposed to take after their ‘parents,’ then she embodies a mash-up of the love of knowledge and all things cultural bestowed upon her by her beloved Daddy Louis, undoubtedly her favourite parent, and the cold, detached cruelty and carelessness of human life given her by her Daddy Lestat.

The film has whores and boobies and the plague and cemeteries in it as well. And, while I still prefer my Eastern European vampires and the ‘mitt-Europe’ locations favoured by Hammer horror films, there’s a lot to be said for the vampires of eighteenth-century New Orleans as well, for whom swamps and alligators could prove either a blessing or a curse.

It’s sultry and steamy there. You can feel the heat hanging over the Louisiana Bayou and the call of the night is strong and pulsating, like the initial heartbeat of a healthy victim. Answer it if you dare…


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:

Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books.




I always wince a bit when someone comes at me with a ‘horror comedy,’ as usually I prefer my horror straight, and scary. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when, being made to watch this one with the assurances that it was very funny, I did indeed find it to be very funny, but also warm, witty, and a loving tribute to the vampire genre by a bunch of guys who obviously loved and respected their subject.

It’s a ‘mockumentary,’ along the lines of SPINAL TAP (which parodies the rock music business) and BEST IN SHOW (a spoof on American dog shows), and features four vampires from modern-day Wellington (the capital of New Zealand), sharing a house and being followed around by a camera crew so that viewers can get a sense of the vampires’ lives, or states of un-death, if that’s a better description of their existence.

Viago, a sort of dandy vampire dressed in the extravagantly frilly, flouncy style of INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, is probably the most conscientious of the four ‘house-mates’ and, in fact, he opens the film by calling a house meeting on the subject of Who Hasn’t Been Pulling Their Weight Around The Flat.

Transgressions include leaving a load of dirty, blood-soaked washing-up in the sink, not putting down newspaper to collect blood splashes when killing and eating a victim on the house couch, and generally just leaving a bloody mess everywhere around the place for other house-mates to clean up.

Deacon, a sexy-cool (as he likes to think), rather gypsyish-looking younger vampire, who likes to knit and to perform ‘erotic’ dances for the amusement of his fellow house-mates, is generally found to be the main offender when it comes to the washing-up. With muttered claims that this is all nothing but ‘bullshit,’ he grudgingly gets to work with the old Fairy Liquid and the rubber gloves.

Vladislav the Poker (clearly a riff on Vlad the Impaler) is a flamboyant, passionate and powerful vampire who was once a tyrant in his earlier life. He is obsessed by a former opponent of terrifying proportions he calls ‘the Beast,’ the only opponent to have ever bested him.

The actor who plays Vlad (Jemaine Clement, one half of successful comedy duo Flight of the Conchords) says he based his performance on Gary Oldman’s portrayal of Dracula, even down to the two weird lumps of hair…

Petyr, the fourth house-mate, is a non-talking, ferocious-looking 8,000-year-old vampire who lives, Nosferatu-style, in the dark, damp basement of the shared house.

In appearance, he’s a cross between Murnau’s Count Orlok and Reggie Nalder’s stunningly scary Kurt Barlow in the television adaptation of Stephen King’s most frightening book, SALEM’S LOT.

Nick is a young man who joins the group and whom Petyr bites and vampirises, and there’s great fun then as Nick goes around telling all and sundry that he’s a vampire now and has cool powers, such as being able to fly and turn into a bat, and such.

The group have grave misgivings about Nick’s tendency to be a big-mouth and flap his gums. It might attract the attentions of a vampire-hunter, for one thing, which could have grave ramifications for the health and safety of the group as a whole.

The scene in which Viago, Vladislav and Deacon tell Nick that he’s banned from the house ‘indefinitely,’ but that his mild-mannered-to-the-point-of-deadpan computer geek friend Stu is still welcome to drop by any time, is very funny indeed.

We follow the lads around as they try to get ‘invited’ into Wellington’s various night-spots in order to trawl for possible victims (a vampire can’t go anywhere he’s not invited, remember?), and exchange insults with the local band of werewolves, before later becoming more pally with them.

They hypnotise the police into not seeing the corpses and signs of human carnage clearly dotted round their place of residence when a neighbour complains of the constant screaming coming from their house, and they also get invited to this year’s Unholy Masquerade of vampires, zombies and witches, at which the guest of honour is to be Vladislav’s Number One enemy and nemesis, the Beast. Stand by for scenes of bloody confrontation and recrimination…

Vampire films/television shows referenced or quoted directly in the movie include Gary Oldman’s DRACULA, BLADE, TWILIGHT, BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, THE LOST BOYS and INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE. I think THE HUNGER was in there a little bit too, in Nick’s ‘turning’ and Vlad’s David Bowie-style ageing when he becomes unwell while thinking too much about the Beast.

I could be mistaken, but I don’t think I caught any references to Hammer Horror in the mockumentary, and Christopher Lee’s portrayal of Dracula in seven films for the Hammer film production company.

Did the lads behind the film not catch any repeats of these fantastic films when they were growing up? Oh well. Maybe the omission was a pure accident, but I would love to have seen some reference to Hammer’s Dracula in there somewhere.

Anyway, this is overall a pretty funny film which you’ll certainly enjoy watching even once. The characters are all immensely likeable, especially when they’re being dozey twats, and you get kind of a nice, warm fuzzy feeling when you’re watching it, stemming from the obvious affection in which the writer-actors hold the genre they’re parodying. Enjoy it. It’s good, clean bloody fun…


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:

Her debut romantic fiction novel, ‘THIRTEEN STOPS,’ is out now from Poolbeg Books.


black sunday




This Italian horror movie is the most magnificently gothic film you could ever watch. The scenery and settings are as eerily, dustily gothic as you could possibly wish for, and scream queen Barbara Steele is infinitely watchable as the two lead characters. (She plays a dual role here.) It made stars out of both Steele and Mario Bava, the Italian director.

Steele’s face and figure are exquisite, her hands beautiful, slender and expressive, but that face! The camera is right to focus on it for much of the movie. Close-up, she really is the most striking creature to ever draw breath. Surely no actress has ever played a gothic princess quite so perfectly.

Here, she does a brilliant job of portraying the poor doomed Princess Asa, sister of the ruler of Moldavia, a European kingdom in the seventeenth century, about 1630, to be exact. Her horrible brother, Prince Vajda, has condemned her and her manservant Javutich to death for supposedly being witches, vampires and cohorts of Satan (I accidentally typed ‘cohorts of Stan’ there by accident, which is much less menacing…!)

The first five minutes of the film show Asa’s agonising death. The scene is so controversial that the film was banned in England till 1968. It shocked the living daylights out of me when I saw it first, especially the bit with the enormous executioner-type guy wielding the heavy mallet…! Repeat viewings showed me clearly that the scene has lost none of its power to shock, just because sixty years have elapsed.

I won’t describe the death here; it’s just too gruesome. My sympathies are entirely with the poor persecuted Asa, who curses her brother and all his descendants, not just for three months (a joke from The Simpsons), but for all eternity.

Then the action moves to two hundred years later, in the same God-forsaken kingdom of Moldavia. Two doctors are on their way to a medical conference when their carriage breaks down outside the tomb of Princess Asa, the witch.

They are fascinated to see her face, still covered by the mask of Satan, and the older doctor, Choma Kruvajan, makes the mistake of allowing the blood from a cut on his hand to drip onto the witch’s face, an action which we just know will bring the vengeful witch back to life. Well, if it was good enough for Hammer’s Dracula…!

The handsome younger doctor, Andrej Gorobec, falls head-over-heels in love with Princess Katia of the House of Vajda, the descendant of Asa who also happens to be a dead ringer for the deceased witch.

Katia’s haunting beauty and the air of sadness that envelops her like a cloud of Chanel No.5 draw Andrej to her like a fly to an open jam pot. But is now a good time to be wooing a princess of the doomed House of Vajda, especially given that Asa and her servant Javutich are back and baying for blood…? On his own head be it, then…

The crypt and castle here are the best and most atmospheric I’ve ever seen in a gothic movie. The monochromatic black-and-white is eminently suitable to the fearful tone of the film. Dread and terror are in the air, and no-one is exempt, not Katia, not her brother Constantine and not her father Vajda or her new lover, Andrej. Beware the mask of Stan. There, you see? I’ve done it again. Beware the mask of Satan, I meant to say. It’s like the mask of Stan, only deadlier…


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:

You can contact Sandra at:





‘Not since INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE was published almost twenty years ago has a novel of this genre appeared that’s half as good as Tom Holland’s THE VAMPYRE… a powerfully atmospheric tale.’


‘Vampire fiction gets a transfusion… a classical alternative to the traditional tale; Byron himself would have been pleased by such an eerie, erudite addition to his myth.’


‘A tour de force of scholarship and gothicity.’


Well, way to make Lord Byron (1788-1824) even cooler, lol. The early nineteenth century Romantic poet had already acquired the reputation of being quite the cool dude of mystery and danger; hadn’t Lady Caroline Lamb said of him that he was ‘mad, bad and dangerous to know…?’

And then along comes Tom Holland, writer, to make Byron a vampire as well as a cad, a rake, a bounder, a club-footed seducer of women and writer of such poems as CHILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE, SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY and ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. He might as well have made him into the next James Bond or successor to Indiana Jones while he was about it…!

I thoroughly enjoyed the book, I must say, having an affinity for both vampires and the Romantic poets, especially Byron and his pal Percy Bysshe Shelley, both of whom were present at the Villa Diodati on Lake Geneva in Switzerland that fateful stormy summer during which Mary Shelley penned FRANKENSTEIN, the most famous book of gothic fiction ever written, besides Bram Stoker’s DRACULA, of course.

The book THE VAMPYRE is fiction, but it follows the course of Lord Byron’s life pretty closely from the time he first decides to leave England for ‘a tour of the Continent,’ and the characters in Lord Byron’s real life are all present here also, as well as some rather toothsome and bloodthirsty new creations of Tom Holland’s.

The book has been likened to Anne Rice’s INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE and, indeed, Lord Byron is, in fact, relating the story of his ‘fall,’ as he calls it, to a young woman called Rebecca, a descendant of his who has been mysteriously summoned to Byron’s house in modern day England.

Here’s what he tells her about his European travels: ‘It was the custom then for men such as myself, well-bred and hopelessly in debt, to perform a tour of the Continent, long seen by the English as the most suitable place for the young to take rapid steps in the career of vice. I wanted to sample new pleasures, new sensations and delights- everything for which England was too narrow and tight, and which I knew, abroad, would be easy to procure.’

He travels with his friend Hobhouse. In Greece, he is turned into a vampire by a terrifying man-being called Vakhel Pasha, who finds Byron beautiful and clever and a unique individual worthy of all the knowledge of the Universe which the Pasha is keen to impart to him. The Pasha calls this transference ‘the Gift;’ Byron has reason in time to view it as ‘the Curse.’

Byron has become a ‘vardoulacha;’ ‘The vardoulacha drinks blood,’ we’re told in the book. ‘It is an evil thing. You must beware of it, for it prefers to drink from a living man.’

If you think you don’t know the word, you do, lol, if you’ve ever seen Mario Bava’s genuinely frightening movie BLACK SABBATH (yes, yes, the band took their name from this film!). The middle section stars Boris Karloff and it’s about vampires or vardoulacha, that’s all I’ll say…!

The Pasha has much to teach Byron before he vampirises him: ‘Do not be afraid, milord. Be young and old; be human and divine; be beyond life, and beyond death. If you can be all these things together in your being and your thoughts, then- then, milord- you will have discovered immortality.’

That’s kind of a tall order, is that. I mean, if we could all do this stuff, we’d all be going around achieving immortality all the time. The fact that we’re not is possibly testament to how difficult it is. ‘I give you knowledge,’ the Pasha says then another time. ‘Knowledge and eternity. I curse you with them.’ Clearly the one-for-all gift voucher hadn’t yet been invented…!

Byron likes the idea of being immortal, but not of drinking blood. At first, the notion revolts him. But if drinking blood is what he has to do to survive, he’ll do it. ‘I felt the incisors extend from my gums- the skin gave- blood, in a soft silken spurt, filled my mouth. I felt a shuddering delirium, as the blood was pumped by the dying man’s heart, and rain flooded out across my parched skin and throat. I drained my victim white. When I had finished, his gore in my blood felt heavy like a drug.’ Intoxicating stuff.

With a fellow vampire, Lovelace, Byron embarks on an orgy of blood and debauchery. He also learns everything there is to know about being a vampire. ‘Much as a lover is instructed by a courtesan, so I was taught the arts of drinking blood. I learned how to enter a victim’s dreams, how to master my own, how to hypnotise and generate illusions and desires.’

A return to England, and Byron finds much to amuse him in the salons of upper crust London, and much to slake his thirst in the back alleys. ‘I returned to London, that mighty vortex of all pleasure and vice, and climbed the giddy circles of its delights. In the dark places of the city, where misery bred nightmares far worse than myself, I became a whispered rumour of horror, stalking the drunk and the criminal; I fed with a greedy compulsion, cloaked in the filthy mists of the slums.’

After an incestuous affair with his half-sister Augusta Leigh and an unsuccessful marriage to Annabella Millbanke (why does the vampire Byron want a child so much, and what is the ‘golden blood’ he desires above all else?), Byron leaves England forever in 1816.

While in Brussels, he desires to see ‘the fields of Waterloo, where the great battle had been fought a year before.’ The bit where the legions and battalions of dead soldiers rise up from their graves to salute Byron as their ‘Emperor of the Dead’ is magnificently chilling and my personal favourite bit of the book, even over and above the fabulous Villa Diodati stuff, which soon follows.

In Switzerland, Byron, his physician Polidori, the poet Shelley, his mistress Mary and Byron’s teenage mistress Claire Clairmont (whom he’s desperate to get rid of because she’s too clingy!) all play the game of ‘Who can write the best ghost story?,’ to which history has already testified.

Byron, who swings both ways in the book, is extremely attracted to the intelligent, soulful and golden-haired Shelley. He is also desperate to get Shelley to come over to the dark side and become a vampire like him, but he is reluctant to force vampirism on him and wants Shelley to come to him willingly. He might be in for a bit of a wait, so…!

One person who’s mad keen to be vampirised by Byron is the young Dr. Polidori, who’s half-crazed with jealousy of Byron’s well-deserved fame as a poet and the fact that Byron’s been given the gift of eternal life and more knowledge than you can shake a stick at. Whether Byron chooses to share his ‘Gift’ with the odious, poisonous Polidori or not, he will find his former friend a thorn in his side from this time onwards…

The descriptions of Venice, where Byron spends some time, are gorgeous too. ‘Venice had grown into a playground of depravity. Everything about her was extraordinary, and her aspect like a dream- splendid and filthy, graceful and cruel, a whore whose loveliness conceals her disease. I found in Venice, in her stone and water and light, an embodiment of the beauty and vileness of myself. She was the vampire of cities. I claimed her as my right.’ The images of buildings of decaying grandeur sliding over time into the slimy waters of the canals are firmly established in the reader’s mind.

Then there’s Byron’s overwhelming love for the beautiful slave girl of his ‘creator,’ Vakhel Pasha’s, and his disconcerting discovery that he may have gained immortality, in that he will now live forever, but this won’t stop him from growing older and more hideous with time. Only drinking ‘the golden blood’ can prevent this; but where is he going to find a shop that stocks it at this hour of the night…?

There’s also his real-life desire to help the Greeks in their time of revolution, and finally the crippling loneliness that strikes every vampire, unless they are lucky enough to find suitable companions for themselves down through the centuries. Catherine Deneuve’s character Miriam Blaylock in vampire flick THE HUNGER (1983) is a lady who refuses to be lonely; but how happy are her consorts?

Anyway, I’ll leave you with the stern words of wisdom imparted by Lord Byron to the loathsome Polidori: ‘You must steer your own course… We are all lonely, we who wander the Ocean of Time…’ For secret reasons which I am forbidden to share with you, I couldn’t have put it better myself…


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:

You can contact Sandra at:




The year is 1891, and Count Dracula and his sex-and-spanking-crazed harem of beautiful handmaidens are still camped out in Dracula’s ancestral castle in Transylvania. Dracula’s brother Vladimir’s head currently adorns a spike on the castle battlements. His brother Nikolai’s head, while for the moment still attached to his shoulders, is filled with resentment for Dracula and a continuing desire to depose him as head of the family.

Dracula’s beautiful wife Anna and his demanding mistress –– and cousin –– Carmilla are each jockeying for position as his Number One squeeze, and he has two newly-acquired sons he doesn’t have a clue what to do with.

Meanwhile, the genteel young ladies of the nearby Miss Peabody’s Exclusive Academy For The Education And Refinement Of The Daughters Of Gentlefolks are all still waiting impatiently for Dracula to fly through their bedroom windows at midnight, to endow upon them the sexual awakening of a lifetime and an introduction into Dracula’s twilight world of pleasure deliciously commingled with pain.

Add to this his domineering mother, his four sex-mad sisters, his temperamental nude handmaidens and a cartload or two of angry villagers, and you might just have an idea of why, for this year at least, Dracula’s dance-card is fully filled out…

This book, as all the ‘ANNA’ books are, is based on characters created by fellow Irish authors Bram Stoker and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, and is dedicated with much love 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 rests…



When Vanessa opened her eyes after her swoon, it took her several moments to take in her surroundings fully. She felt so terribly woozy and light-headed, and yet so far she had not herself partaken of any strong alcohol, unlike her foolish husband Edward! The thought of Edward made her gasp and sit up straight, and it was then she noticed that she was in a bed.

It was a double bed, in a bedchamber quite unlike the room she shared with Edward at the inn. The furniture here was old, very old, but not cheap, like the furniture at the inn. Here, the four-poster bed, the huge twin wardrobes, the two dressing-tables on either side of the bed, one for the male, one for the female, and the chairs and armchairs all looked as if they had stood here for a hundred years and more. They were made of a quality and a superior wood one did not often come across nowadays.

Full-length drapes of the heaviest wine-colored velvet hung at the window, which stood open and allowed a light breeze to permeate the room. A small fire crackled brightly in the grate, and over the mantelpiece hung a huge portrait of a very imposing woman, with a magnificent bosom in a low-cut gown of midnight blue and a trickle of blood running from one corner of her red full mouth.

‘I see you’re admiring the portrait of my esteemed Cousin Elizabeth Bathory,’ said a cultivated male voice from somewhere to the left of her. ‘What an admirably single-minded young woman she was, and how many other young women she was more than prepared to sacrifice in pursuit of eternal youth and beauty! I still correspond regularly with her descendants, you know. Remind me to tell you sometime of their exploits. They make for some rather interesting listening, I can assure you. A singularly bizarre lot, the Bathorys.’

Vanessa jumped. Good heavens, she was not alone! She stared in fearful amazement at the extremely tall man she just about remembered meeting in the Great Hall before her swoon. He was undressing to the left of her, placing his dark clothing casually on a chair. His long black cloak, a fabulous piece of workmanship lined inside with red satin, was hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. The clasp looked to be made of real silver, and a heavy, ancient silver at that.

For the first time since opening her eyes, Vanessa realised that she was not wearing the beautiful bronze-coloured gown she had worn to visit the castle and meet the Count and his no doubt charming wife and family.

And indeed how could she be, since it was currently hanging on the outside of the second twin wardrobe, in tandem with the Count’s billowing black cloak! They looked quite at home together, the two garments, as if they had been accustomed to hang together thus, side-by-side in familiarity and companionship, for many a long year.

Vanessa looked down at herself and shrieked. Under the bedclothes, she was clad only in her long petticoat of white lace. Why, she was indecent, practically naked, in the presence of a strange male! Edward would be horrified, scandalised, mortified!

Her pale white breasts heaved in embarrassment over the low neckline of the petticoat, which action only served to make them more prominent and, though this mortified her further, more appealing to the watchful male eye.

‘Did… did you undress me?’ she asked the Count, her eyes downcast from shame and her tones tremulous.

‘Is that a problem for you, my dear Mrs. Wintergreen?’ he asked her quizzically, quirking one eyebrow at her in an unmistakeable gesture of amusement. ‘Surely a man has seen you naked before?’

‘Only Edward, and even then, he has never seen me without my nightgown!’

‘Well then, perhaps it is about time you learned to be properly naked in front of a man. A real man.’

He grinned, casting away his final item of clothing to stand fully and unashamedly unclothed in front of her. Vanessa’s blue eyes widened at the sight of the tall, lean strong body covered in a fine layer of black hairs, with that thing of his standing up perpendicular to his body the way Edward’s must have done too, but Edward’s thing had never looked so long, so heavy, so veined, so big! Vanessa could not, for the very life of her, have wrenched her eyes from it. It was a veritable monstrous beast of a thing, and she both feared and craved it.

‘You are not a virgin, I understand,’ he said, as he climbed into the big comfortable bed beside her, ‘but of course such things cannot be helped in the case of married woman. You are familiar with the act of sexual intercourse?’

‘I… I think so,’ breathed Vanessa, feeling a tingling in her nipples and a moistening sensation in her lady-parts at the proximity of such a paragon of maleness. The nearness of Edward had never felt like this. This feeling was electrifying, it made her feel like all her nerve endings were tenderly, exquisitely, agonizingly alive, and she never wanted the feeling to stop!

‘You think so?’ Dracula laughed superciliously. ‘I see that the actions of the esteemed Mr. Edward Wintergreen in the boudoir have made a great impression upon you, my dear. Well, we shall have to see what we can do to erase your memories of his inadequate schoolboy fumblings from your mind forever.’ He laid her back down against the pillows and began to methodically undo the tiny delicate pearl buttons on her petticoat.

‘Where… where is my husband?’ Vanessa asked him. ‘What have you done to him?’

She barely managed to get the words out. She felt like the power of speech was slipping away from her gradually, along with the ability to remember her own name and Edward’s and the reasons why they were there, in Castle Dracula in the Carpathian Mountains in the wilds of Transylvania, instead of at home in jolly old England, taking tea on the terrace of their house in Windsor Grove. On the terrace when it was fine, in the parlour when it rained or was windy or cold. How far away all that silly politeness and pointless adherence to silly old customs and traditions seemed now.

‘Do you care?’ Dracula asked her brutally as he pulled the petticoat over her head and tossed it aside. His hands immediately covered her breasts, those pale, perfect orbs he had coveted since first observing them peeping out from beneath the fur stole she had worn with the bronze-coloured gown.

Vanessa shook her head and moaned with pleasure. ‘I don’t care,’ she whimpered.

‘What about now?’ he said, as the enormous pale stalk that had stood out from his body so erect and upstanding pushed forcefully past any lingering hint of a maidenhead and penetrated straight to the very core of her being.

She shook her head and whispered: ‘I don’t care.’

‘What about now?’ he said again. The fearsome fangs she had glimpsed earlier were in evidence again now as he bit down hard on the left side of her tender neck, immediately drawing blood.

‘I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!’ she screamed, before falling into a dead faint with her bare arms flung out on either side of her in a grotesque parody of the Crucifixion.

Dracula, satisfied, began to feed.


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:

You can contact Sandra at: