The Journal

Charlie's Journal. 20th of October 2019

I wasn't sure what to make of this leather-bound book when Rose placed it in front of me, there were to many thoughts rushing through my head at the time, Aunt Hilde, Vlad in my head, even Rose herself.

But when I saw that the Writing in the first half, and that the last hundred pages or so were blank with this pen nestled in its heart, I knew what I needed to do.

I have been in this Bunker for only forty-two hours and yet... it seems that my body is already changing, the skin burns to flakes that fade in the air and another layer is reborn through my regeneration, Vlad refuses to leave his cage, only whispering bluntly and in pain, leaving me truly alone, and with nobody to talk too...

But Rose's writing comforts me, and the wisdom in it focuses my mind. In the first section of this journal, I found a long documentation and instruction on many blood runes.

Even when she isn't here Rose is teaching me. Typical.

Still, these runes are the only thing preventing me from falling into madness, the heat is unbearable and each hour under these runes destabilizes Vlad from me... it feels like He wants to run, wants to escape, But he never could because He is Me.

Candlelight... that was the first I studied, in a subconscious effort to find a way to turn these miniature Suns on the ceiling off, but inside their meaning, I found an even deeper curiosity.

Dracula was truly out of his mind, did you know that He came up with Candlelight while sunbathing, He wanted a way to disarm his own clan should they defy him, and so roasted himself under the Golden god to understand it, to wield it, to transcribe it into the runes that now feel like the writers of my story, the dictators of my fate and my sanity... I can only hope that I can replicate his strength... which should be easy, considering I am him reborn.

Charlie's Journal. 21st of October 2019

I got in an argument with Vlad tonight, over something that has been eating at me for a while: My identity.

For a while I have been wondering if I am Dracula's reincarnation, then how much of me is truly me? am I just a pale imitation with a different name that means nothing? Dracula was the purest before me, with Three of the components awaiting Cain's Bite... maybe it is the unending light that grows more intense with each hour that is eating away at my idea of individuality, but I can't help but feel myself writhe in the thought of it.

I studied more runes, practised drawing them before my blood shrivelled up under the Candelight's 45% intensity. It is the world's most ruthless sauna, a kiln I built for me... I am loosening, I feel more divided from Vlad or the Beast or whatever you want to call him, than ever. I miss my girls, I miss my clan... I don't know if I can hold on.

Charlie's Journal. 22nd of October 2019

My name is Charles drake... I have to remind myself that I am not just a vessel of dread and pain, a copy of a greater model... I hope that I can hold on.

My thoughts are so consumed with sex. I have been drawn to intercourse since my first taste as an undead, but my drive for it only grows with my lust for blood.

I am glad that Rudy had the foresight to leave me enough blood tea to sustain me for a long time, I keep wringing the hearts out as they dry for the last drop, hungry to devour, but also to turn to spread, I feel like a parasite, like a living embodiment of the curse, I can only hope to not lose it when they let me out of here. I can't harm my family again.

Charlie's Journal. 23rd of October 2019

I need to feed, I need to spread, My aunt promised to train me to contain this after she had concluded her business, but I need it now... Vlad is so silent, like he wants to break free.

I NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIMI NEED HIM.....

I wrote that a few minutes ago... I don't remember doing so... god what is happening to me? I have fucked so many things up. Diana hates me, Namina hides from me, My clan fears me, Rose is sickened by me... HOW DO WE FIX IT?

SUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHTSUNLIGHTCANDLELIGHT!!!

Charlie's Journal. 24th of October 2019

THE FALLING LEAVES. DRIFT BY THE WINDOW. FALLING LEAVES. OF RED AND GOLD. I FEEL HER LIPS. THE SUMMER KISSES. THE SUNBURNED HANDS. I USED TO HOLD.

Charlie's Journal. 25th of October 2019

ThEy cannot let mE out... becaUse it will not be I that flEes.

They wIll see my face eMerge, but it will nOt be I, they see.

My fEet will toUch the ground, but it wiLl not be I, that's free

I am no longer ChaRlie, nor am I VLad; there are. no chAins. on mE.