Classic Horror Retelling
"I became a god among men. I have walked this earth for untold lifetimes of men. I have conquered, I have loved, I have accumulated wealth and lost it only to gain it again out of sport. Alas, I have grown bored with petty games. I now play at conquering once more. Only this time, I plan to conquer all."
Chapter 1
Lightning lit up the horizon exposing a dark, misshapen hill. Anyone else would have dismissed it as just part of the normal geography, but Wilhelmina Madison knew better. This was the site she had been hunting for so long. It had to be.
The threat of a thunderstorm would normally cause Wilhelmina (Mina to almost everyone that knew her) to pause in her ascent up an unfamiliar territory, but two things kept her going. One was that her prize was so decidedly near. The other was that the trip she was making was her only chance to see if what she was looking for was really there. She had entered a region of Romania that was not friendly to visitors. Some time in the past, the region of about thirty square miles had fallen into the hands of a band of locals that called themselves the Ascuns. Romanian for the “Hidden.” They recognized no foreign government, nor really any Romanian national government. Attempts to engage in diplomacy were met with silence, and attempts to enter the region resulted in an astonishingly high disappearance rate for hikers.
So Mina plunged into the forest alone, armed, and as discreetly as possible. She had been exploring on foot for a day and a half when she saw the ridge she was now approaching. She believed the ridge to be the home of a long abandoned fortress, a castle. And she also believed that it was, along with the Ascuns, the reason people stayed out of the region that just so happened to be on Transylvanian soil.
The tree line had provided her substantial cover up until that point, but Mina had reached the edge of a meadow that surrounded the stone mound that was currently being illuminated by the frequent lightning. A fine mist was gaining strength, and she brushed her wavy brown hair from her face, then pulled a band from her hand and tied her mane into a ponytail. She felt a rush of excitement as she gazed on stone that had clearly been cut by human hands. She was standing before an artifact, not a geographic feature.
Mina Madison wondered if this rush she felt had been what her ancestors had felt when they were diving deep into the jungles of Africa in search of treasure or glory or dominance. Though the Madison family staunchly denied their globetrotting forebears had ever intended to become colonial overlords, modern mindsets tended to paint over those nuances with a broad and obstructive brush. Her family had been plagued by accusations and guilt for well over a century, and no amount of her good humanitarian work or studies in archaeology had cleared the fog surrounding her genealogy. As the twenty-first century entered the era of ‘cancel culture,’ she ironically was finding herself forced to become less of an academic archaeologist and more of the “questionable” treasure hunter than her great-great grandfather had ever been.
It was partly this fact of her existence that made her feel some kinship with her college friend Bram. He was the local medical examiner in Waverley Hills, Colorado, but he also taught pre-med part-time at Waverley Hills College. He too had been plagued, but in a much darker and far more personal manner. Bram had been falsely accused of medical malpractice, and despite being found innocent, his practice dried up. And then, so did the job offers. Bram had been a surgeon, like his father and grandfather before him, but he unfairly lost his reputation when the scandal landed at his door- despite his definitive innocence. A survivor, Bram quickly began to look for any and all work he could find. The medical examiner job in Waverley Hills was not his dream, but would pay the bills, and Bram hoped it would give him a chance to maybe one day find his way back to practicing medicine.
Waverley Hills College was quick to take him as an adjunct professor, which was good. It kept him near the medical field he loved, and the added plus was that Mina was able to once again work with her college friend. Mina had been at Waverley Hills College and had been instrumental in getting Bram to move to the rugged Rockies for a fresh start.
Taking a quick but intensive scan of the equally rugged area she found herself in currently, followed by a deep breath, Mina darted from cover and toward the small opening in the stone wall just ahead of her. No darts, bullets, or angry local ‘terrorists’ came down on her in her sprint.
There was just rain.
As soon as she was under the cover of the stone, her foot stepped on something that crunched beneath her weight. She bent her lithe form down to the ground and produced a small flashlight to illuminate her find. Its beam showed an ancient wooden door, burned and rotted where it lay on the floor. Mina flicked the beam toward the darkness that lay ahead of her, and as she did, there was a chill that ran up her spine.
She was being watched.
Looking back at the treeline she couldn’t detect her spy, but then, they were called the “Hidden.” Deciding to make their stalking more difficult, she pressed deeper into the ruins.
Ruins were exactly what she had entered, that was clear. It was as if the castle or fortress had imploded on itself, making a strange, cavernous Escher drawing come to life. Mina could make out steps that had clearly been cut stone but now ran into a solid wall. Some arched doorways could be seen with no way to reach them. Stone walkways dropped off into the darkness, and in the air there was a mustiness that was more old house than cave. But she noted that no rain was falling on her head, nor were any flashes of lightning illuminating the interior- despite her continuing to hear the sound of rolling thunder very close.
And she still felt watched, even though the minimal light from the entrance was long gone.
A slapping noise above her- high above her- made Mina turn the flashlight skyward. “Bats. Naturally,” she quipped, barely above a whisper. The flashlight beam kept catching shiny silver metals, and at first, she assumed there were silver deposits in the ruins. But the beam landed on one large silver shape, and she saw it for what it was.
A crucifix.
“Huh,” she said, then continued on. She dropped down about two feet when the path she was on broke, and for the first time since she had entered the ruins, she saw a doorway she could reach. The wooden door was still in place, too.
Mina approached the door with confidence, and pressed on it.
No movement.
She stepped back, sighed, then rushed the door with more force. There was a sharp creak as the door inched back a millimeter. She repeated her action, and the door gave more, including a groan of iron hinges that sounded and felt as if they hadn’t moved since before the Wright Brothers took their flight. One final push and the door fell inward, and a gush of cold, stale air hit Mina in the face. It was at once dusty and moist. Putrid might have been the best word for it.
And the clapping and squeaking of the bats ceased.
The hair on the back of her neck raised up, and she felt a coldness in her core that she couldn’t explain. Mina felt as if eyes were on her, watching her every step, her every move- almost reading her every thought. Yet, she was utterly and totally alone. She knew that. She felt a pressure in her head- not like a headache, but more like her brain was full, that her thoughts were not the only ones there.
She pushed the fog aside, and pressed forward.
Mina entered the new room, feeling the floor slightly slant downward. She flicked the beam to her left and right, catching objects along the wall. Pictures, glass boxes, what looked like swords hanging on the wall. Jewels and baubles. And a bookshelf with large, leather bound volumes.
And hundreds of crucifixes.
In the center of the room was a raised dais, and upon it was a coffin. It was an ebony wood, and despite the destruction around it, the box seemed pristine. A raised wooden cross was fastened on the lid.
That same tingle of fear and anxiety and excitement ran up Mina’s spine, but she approached the coffin anyway. Then, she felt as if she was once again in a strange fog as she watched her hands grip the lid of the coffin. Her fingers wrapped around the rounded edge of the flat wooden top, and pushed back. It wasn’t a door like modern coffins, it was just a topper that had been nailed down. But despite the appearance of being in good shape, the coffin nails slipped easily free and the lid fell back.
Mina gasped.
And the whole ruined castle seemed to quake.
It was empty.
Save for a blood-red amulet that rested in the center of the coffin.
Mina smiled.
She found it.
Proof.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture. She looked at the signal on her phone, and unsurprisingly found she had none. Her smile did not fade, though, and she said into the darkness, “And that, Mina Madison, is the find of a lifetime.”
She turned on her heel, and retreated from the room, intent on getting word back to the College about her find. She would need her interns, some financing, and of course her best friend. Then the collection of key artifacts would begin, and Mina Madison would be known as the archaeologist who proved the existence of the Blood Prince of Carpathia.
* * *
Mina ran from the entrance and back to the cover of the forest as the rain began to come down much more rapidly. She paid no attention to any potential watcher, but if she had, she would have seen a large shape kneeling on a small rise nearby. Watching her. The shape was vaguely human, and it sighed as it watched her flee. She carried nothing with her, and that was the only reason the shape did not pursue her.
Yet.
Lightning lit up the horizon exposing a dark, misshapen hill. Anyone else would have dismissed it as just part of the normal geography, but Wilhelmina Madison knew better. This was the site she had been hunting for so long. It had to be.
The threat of a thunderstorm would normally cause Wilhelmina (Mina to almost everyone that knew her) to pause in her ascent up an unfamiliar territory, but two things kept her going. One was that her prize was so decidedly near. The other was that the trip she was making was her only chance to see if what she was looking for was really there. She had entered a region of Romania that was not friendly to visitors. Some time in the past, the region of about thirty square miles had fallen into the hands of a band of locals that called themselves the Ascuns. Romanian for the “Hidden.” They recognized no foreign government, nor really any Romanian national government. Attempts to engage in diplomacy were met with silence, and attempts to enter the region resulted in an astonishingly high disappearance rate for hikers.
So Mina plunged into the forest alone, armed, and as discreetly as possible. She had been exploring on foot for a day and a half when she saw the ridge she was now approaching. She believed the ridge to be the home of a long abandoned fortress, a castle. And she also believed that it was, along with the Ascuns, the reason people stayed out of the region that just so happened to be on Transylvanian soil.
The tree line had provided her substantial cover up until that point, but Mina had reached the edge of a meadow that surrounded the stone mound that was currently being illuminated by the frequent lightning. A fine mist was gaining strength, and she brushed her wavy brown hair from her face, then pulled a band from her hand and tied her mane into a ponytail. She felt a rush of excitement as she gazed on stone that had clearly been cut by human hands. She was standing before an artifact, not a geographic feature.
Mina Madison wondered if this rush she felt had been what her ancestors had felt when they were diving deep into the jungles of Africa in search of treasure or glory or dominance. Though the Madison family staunchly denied their globetrotting forebears had ever intended to become colonial overlords, modern mindsets tended to paint over those nuances with a broad and obstructive brush. Her family had been plagued by accusations and guilt for well over a century, and no amount of her good humanitarian work or studies in archaeology had cleared the fog surrounding her genealogy. As the twenty-first century entered the era of ‘cancel culture,’ she ironically was finding herself forced to become less of an academic archaeologist and more of the “questionable” treasure hunter than her great-great grandfather had ever been.
It was partly this fact of her existence that made her feel some kinship with her college friend Bram. He was the local medical examiner in Waverley Hills, Colorado, but he also taught pre-med part-time at Waverley Hills College. He too had been plagued, but in a much darker and far more personal manner. Bram had been falsely accused of medical malpractice, and despite being found innocent, his practice dried up. And then, so did the job offers. Bram had been a surgeon, like his father and grandfather before him, but he unfairly lost his reputation when the scandal landed at his door- despite his definitive innocence. A survivor, Bram quickly began to look for any and all work he could find. The medical examiner job in Waverley Hills was not his dream, but would pay the bills, and Bram hoped it would give him a chance to maybe one day find his way back to practicing medicine.
Waverley Hills College was quick to take him as an adjunct professor, which was good. It kept him near the medical field he loved, and the added plus was that Mina was able to once again work with her college friend. Mina had been at Waverley Hills College and had been instrumental in getting Bram to move to the rugged Rockies for a fresh start.
Taking a quick but intensive scan of the equally rugged area she found herself in currently, followed by a deep breath, Mina darted from cover and toward the small opening in the stone wall just ahead of her. No darts, bullets, or angry local ‘terrorists’ came down on her in her sprint.
There was just rain.
As soon as she was under the cover of the stone, her foot stepped on something that crunched beneath her weight. She bent her lithe form down to the ground and produced a small flashlight to illuminate her find. Its beam showed an ancient wooden door, burned and rotted where it lay on the floor. Mina flicked the beam toward the darkness that lay ahead of her, and as she did, there was a chill that ran up her spine.
She was being watched.
Looking back at the treeline she couldn’t detect her spy, but then, they were called the “Hidden.” Deciding to make their stalking more difficult, she pressed deeper into the ruins.
Ruins were exactly what she had entered, that was clear. It was as if the castle or fortress had imploded on itself, making a strange, cavernous Escher drawing come to life. Mina could make out steps that had clearly been cut stone but now ran into a solid wall. Some arched doorways could be seen with no way to reach them. Stone walkways dropped off into the darkness, and in the air there was a mustiness that was more old house than cave. But she noted that no rain was falling on her head, nor were any flashes of lightning illuminating the interior- despite her continuing to hear the sound of rolling thunder very close.
And she still felt watched, even though the minimal light from the entrance was long gone.
A slapping noise above her- high above her- made Mina turn the flashlight skyward. “Bats. Naturally,” she quipped, barely above a whisper. The flashlight beam kept catching shiny silver metals, and at first, she assumed there were silver deposits in the ruins. But the beam landed on one large silver shape, and she saw it for what it was.
A crucifix.
“Huh,” she said, then continued on. She dropped down about two feet when the path she was on broke, and for the first time since she had entered the ruins, she saw a doorway she could reach. The wooden door was still in place, too.
Mina approached the door with confidence, and pressed on it.
No movement.
She stepped back, sighed, then rushed the door with more force. There was a sharp creak as the door inched back a millimeter. She repeated her action, and the door gave more, including a groan of iron hinges that sounded and felt as if they hadn’t moved since before the Wright Brothers took their flight. One final push and the door fell inward, and a gush of cold, stale air hit Mina in the face. It was at once dusty and moist. Putrid might have been the best word for it.
And the clapping and squeaking of the bats ceased.
The hair on the back of her neck raised up, and she felt a coldness in her core that she couldn’t explain. Mina felt as if eyes were on her, watching her every step, her every move- almost reading her every thought. Yet, she was utterly and totally alone. She knew that. She felt a pressure in her head- not like a headache, but more like her brain was full, that her thoughts were not the only ones there.
She pushed the fog aside, and pressed forward.
Mina entered the new room, feeling the floor slightly slant downward. She flicked the beam to her left and right, catching objects along the wall. Pictures, glass boxes, what looked like swords hanging on the wall. Jewels and baubles. And a bookshelf with large, leather bound volumes.
And hundreds of crucifixes.
In the center of the room was a raised dais, and upon it was a coffin. It was an ebony wood, and despite the destruction around it, the box seemed pristine. A raised wooden cross was fastened on the lid.
That same tingle of fear and anxiety and excitement ran up Mina’s spine, but she approached the coffin anyway. Then, she felt as if she was once again in a strange fog as she watched her hands grip the lid of the coffin. Her fingers wrapped around the rounded edge of the flat wooden top, and pushed back. It wasn’t a door like modern coffins, it was just a topper that had been nailed down. But despite the appearance of being in good shape, the coffin nails slipped easily free and the lid fell back.
Mina gasped.
And the whole ruined castle seemed to quake.
It was empty.
Save for a blood-red amulet that rested in the center of the coffin.
Mina smiled.
She found it.
Proof.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture. She looked at the signal on her phone, and unsurprisingly found she had none. Her smile did not fade, though, and she said into the darkness, “And that, Mina Madison, is the find of a lifetime.”
She turned on her heel, and retreated from the room, intent on getting word back to the College about her find. She would need her interns, some financing, and of course her best friend. Then the collection of key artifacts would begin, and Mina Madison would be known as the archaeologist who proved the existence of the Blood Prince of Carpathia.
* * *
Mina ran from the entrance and back to the cover of the forest as the rain began to come down much more rapidly. She paid no attention to any potential watcher, but if she had, she would have seen a large shape kneeling on a small rise nearby. Watching her. The shape was vaguely human, and it sighed as it watched her flee. She carried nothing with her, and that was the only reason the shape did not pursue her.
Yet.
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