A Letter From Your Dear Friend, Dracula
I have not been entirely truthful in my latest letters, and my soul has howled out its shame throughout the day. My usually well-maintained composure regarding the move and Jonathan’s illness has caused me to lash out, displaying ill-fitting tendencies of an aristocrat. I felt too anguished at my actions to share them with you, lest they mar the image you have of me. Instead, I chose to omit the details in an effort to let my anger fall by the wayside. It is unbecoming to make such a clamor over the words of a fragile, nearly broken mind; the man merely seeks explanation for the eccentricities of my castle that he does not understand. As rude as it may be, I decided to take a brief look upon the words Jonathan has written in the notebook he keeps so close to his heart as he slept. It is written in the same odd writing style I mentioned in the last letter. Upon closer inspection, the once-thought gibberish shorthand is a proper British shorthand I was unable to recognize in my fury. There is a great insult to so blatantly see the act of secrecy committed against me, but I must rationalize it is simply the protection of information for a paranoid mind, for I fear my anger will consume my heart again.
Jonathan’s letters have sat at my desk burning a metaphorical hole into the wood today. Resting beside yours, which is the only thing that saved my precious writing desk from being reduced to ash, as I considered what to do with them. The ache of reading your letter was a soothing balm to my aching woes, just as I predicted, thankfully. It was delightful and amusing to read your thoughts on my early beginnings with the solicitor, and I hope the receipt of daily letters in the mail has not worried you.
Paperwork to ensure my move has been a tortuous task in the wake of Jonathan’s lack of consciousness, which I bemoan even writing about. Pulling him away from the sheets and having him reside at a proper desk is nigh impossible, yet against all natural order, he keeps ending up in peculiar spots in the castle when I am away tending to his meals and my business. What fate must shine upon him as he sleepwalks if his weak body does not fail him as he does so?
I thought it best to help Jonathan with his next letters, as any good friend would do. I sat with him, and together we prepared a letter for his employer that held a far more professional air and less of the ramblings of a delusional man. A sharp thrill arose in me as I proposed the idea of writing letters to his correspondents so they may receive them as he travels back to England soon and how I will kindly mail them in his place. Jonathan’s eyes carried the hollow frightened look I have only seen in wolves I have shooed off The Pass; nevertheless, he agreed to the idea. If he only sent a letter when he left, they’d be terribly frightened of the idea an awful fate could have befallen him until he set foot on English soil. The pre-written letters just provide timely news to them hearing word of Jonathan’s fate. Perhaps I could employ a similar method to writing you during my journey.
After much deliberation I have decided to have Jonathan stay in my castle longer to rest and recover. With my presence soon gone, and the ladies of the manor nearly free to roam to where they hopefully will not consider torturing him with their "company," his hysterical mind shall recover with ease. If all goes well, Jonathan shall be returned home by June 29th. It will be some time before I consider arranging for you two to meet, however. I hope you are not too disappointed when you receive this update. With less trouble on the horizon to my manor, I shall stop my current array of letters for a pause but will await yours whenever I stroll into town.
While I have been silent in my posted notes, these last letters from “Dracula” have been… bizarre, to say the least. The mention of Exeter does link to the Peter Hawkins I previously found. A chilling fact of the case I cannot shake.
Assuming this is still very well-researched historical fiction (maybe using the writer's ancestors?) or a very coincidental idea, Dracula is an odd figure. He openly admitted to mail theft on the 16th and 17th. Manipulation of Jonathan in this letter. Why admit to such actions, fictional or real?
Jonathan’s life seems of little care in comparison to writing to his friend. Constantly asking this currently unheard person what they think and openly admitting to caring more about their opinion than the actively ill man he is taking care of. Jonathan is more akin to a pet he only doesn’t replace because it was once sentimental to him but secretly views it as a chore. The display of victimhood clashing against choosing paperwork over letting the man rest creates an odd dissonance. Another human suffering becomes merely a new chore to addendum to his current list and complaints.
It’s frustrating to see Dracula portrayed as a hero by the author. Was he an antihero in the project? Who were we meant to side with? Dracula claims the lock was broken in a fit of madness, but the tone of the statement reads as odd to me. Like it is a joke I am not in on.
There’s a big piece missing here I doubt is answered in any letters his “dear friend” could have written him.
Should we play with the idea that these are real letters? It might be important to consider this may have been an elaborate game by a bored aristocrat for his friend. Something to spice up the mundane truth, and none of this happened.
No, they couldn’t have been preserved then. Not this well. Not in that rotting house for so long. And why keep such a thing?
His laments are more focused on chores and appealing to the reader than the distinct, mentioned uncanniness on the 8th. What has he done to earn such disdain from everyone around him but this one person? Unless in the aristocrats' boredom he decided to create an interesting format for his "diary" and expected not a single pair of eyes to read his crimes.
I have decided to extend my research on whether Jonathan Harker was a real man by also searching for missing persons cases in England in the late 19th century. Something about his last few letters has caused a gnawing anxiety over this “good friend, Jonathan Harker's," fate. Was this what I hope to be an author's intended feeling to the letters?
If you have any further information regarding information or figures in these letters, please contact the Lead Researcher.
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