Where Lord Dracula haunts the forests

By Kirsten Nour Namskau

If you ever go to Romania, you will get the message; never to be outside after 10:00pm. (22:00)
That is not a joke. A proverb says: “ It never smokes without a fire.”
I lived in Romania for 1 ½ years . . . and I believed it was a joke they used to keep some mystery around the history of Romania.
I should soon learn to know different.
The real name of Lord Dracula was Vlad TzePes, and he has actually lived. He even was a relative of the Royal family of Romania.
I love the nature and I love challenges and I’m not “a Chicken,” so as I was in Romania, the country of the Gypsies, Witches and “The people of the Darkness” . . . I had some “investigation” to do.
My life has been a Hell from day one . . . belief, prayers and devotion, searching inside different religion has been to no help. Searching for help among “clairvoyant” people didn’t have any outcome.
So now, as I was in Romania I thought: “ With evilness shall evilness perish.”
I had heard about a witch who lived with her daughter in the heart of the Transylvanian mountains. They said; she was the strongest, most knowledged and famous witch in Romania and far outside the country.
I was able to make an appointment with her . . . But, she lived far from any town or village . . . It was neither houses nor farms in the area where she lived, far into the mountain where the forest surrounded her house and hid it from strangers.
It was only one place I could stay overnight; it was 4 km. away from where she lived . . . it was The Castle of Lord Dracula.

A section of the castle was transformed into an overnight-stay for hikers . . . bed & breakfast.
I got the top-room in one of the towers. It was no lift, so I had to go a spiral staircase up to the room.
The door squeaked as I opened it. The room was simple but clean . . . only cold water in the shower.
The view from the window was spectacular. I was lingering at the window . . . watching the darkness of the night creep in over the forest. The dark clouds which had covered the sky earlier started to crack up and the stars glimpsed though one by one.
As the clouds slowly moved away the shape of a full moon send it’s intense light into my room. I listened to the silence of the forest. I wanted to open the window when I heard an owl howl nearby, but something held me away from doing it.
Maybe it was the bats flying around, making shadows in my room, as if spirits was passing by in the air outside my window.
Suddenly, I saw the shadow of a huge bat, right in front of the moon. It came towards me in high speed and smashed into the window. It was as if the window was about to brake and I instantly stepped backwards.
“Did it want me? Didn’t it see the window?” I thought.
I went to the window and closed it with the curtains.
I went down to the breakfast-room where some others hikers had gathered around the fire-place. It was about 10:30pm
We were sitting together with the staff, discussing the next day adventure and got advices from those who knew better.
A clock called from a distant room and a sound like a cry in agony crept along the floor.
I came to think about some rumours I had heard and said: “ I have heard that Lord Dracula actually is buried in the basement of this castle. Is it true?”
It got death silent in the room . . . the staff was looking at each-other. One of the girls tried to lighten the atmosphere with a nervous laugh. One of the others excused himself, saying he had to go to bed . . . announcing that the breakfast was from 7:30 to 10:30am.
The manager finally took the word and said with low voice: “He is not only buried down there, he is mummified and he lies in his coffin in one of the rooms in the depth of the basement.”
He cleared his throat and continued: “If you want, I can show you, to proof to you that all the rumours about him is only lies. He’s actually a beautiful man.”
The girls were a little reluctant but the men saw their chance to show their girls how brave they were.
One of the girls, she looked like a Barbie-doll, slim as a pencil with big blue eyes and long blond hair put up in a pony-tale, gave a faint laugh to her boy-friend who looked like a “body-guard” with swollen muscles.
He whispered to her: “Don’t worry, dear. I’m here.”
Not with my best will, could I visualize her hiking in the depth and “darkness” of the Transylvanian mountains and forests.

We were led down the stair-case to the basement, continued to the end of a narrow hallway. The whole castle was built of huge stones of granite, which made it humid with a smell of light rotten grass and soil.
At the end of the hallway, the door was secured with a huge wooden-bolt in addition of a lock containing a huge key which was still in the lock.
It took time to open the door . . . the manager excused the problem that it seemed the look was rusted so it had got stuck.
After some hard work, adding oil to the lock, he finally got to open the door. A high squeak from the door sounded as thunder in the narrow hallway.
We entered the room . . . and there, at the wall, in the centre of the room . . . was a coffin, with the top-side of the coffin towards the wall.
We gathered around the coffin . . . slowly the manager opened the lid . . .
There he was, I saw him with my own eyes . . . stone dead.
But . . . something took my attention . . .
(I have to tell you here. That since child-hood, I’ve been trained to “hear the unspoken words”, to “read between the lines” and to notice what other people forget to look for, since both my mom and dad, later also my brother, sister and myself have worked inside the police, investigation –sector.)
So, here I stood . . .looking at the man in the coffin, having a feeling of that I have seen him before.
I asked myself: “Doesn’t he look very good, thinking of that he actually died in 1732 ?”
He was a good looking man with black hair, combed tight backwards with a lot of grease, leaving the hair glossy, high forehead with hair-creeks on each side. His skin was pail and wax-like. His lips was small with a pimple right above the left corner of his mouth . . . a dark, little aroused pimple where 3 straw of hair came out from the centre.

The clock called again from a faraway room . . . twelve calls.
Suddenly everybody stiffened as they looked at the corpse . . . didn’t it start to leak a drop of blood from the corner of the mouth? . . .
yes it did . . . and in the next second the chest started to rose and the eyelashes started to vibrate as the corpse took a deep inhaling.

It came a suppressed scream between the teeth of “Barbie-doll” , the scream escalated to an uncontrolled high-pitched scream as her body stiffened of, her feet was stepping and her fingers were spread stiff.
Her scream was contagious and the other girls also started to scream as the men repeated: “Oh, shit . . . ohh, shit . . . ohhhhh hoooolyyyy Shhiiiitttt.” Their voices all the time escalating.

The manager called out in surprise: “What in . . . What in h . . . Ohhh GOOOD . . .this has never happened before. I swear . . . I have never seen this happen before.”
All this happened in seconds of a minute . . . we were rushed out of the room.
I couldn’t help to notice that it started to creep chicken-skin from my lower back and up to my neck . . . . although . . . .
I had by now made several comments in my mental note-book and lingered when one from the staff took my arm and draw me out of the room as the manager hurried to close with key and bolt.
As we were tumbling up the stair-case, the manager called out: “Hurry to your rooms, and don’t open if anybody knocks at the door.”

I went to my room . . . took a cold shower and went to bed. To my surprise, I fell asleep relatively fast. During the night, I had a feeling of that someone knocked at the door . . . or . . . was it only imagination???

I went down for breakfast 8:00am. I had an appointment to go to and 4 km. to walk . . .
The breakfast-room was empty.
I ordered my breakfast and the waiter came with my tray . . . coffee, bread, butter, jam, cheese and a liqueur-glass of tomato-juice.
I looked at the tomato-juice . . .
“That was a very red tomato-juice” I thought “or . . . is it only my imagination?”
I looked at the waiter . . . I winked him to my table with my pointer. He came instantly.
“Something wrong, madam?” He asked
I pointed at the glass of tomato-juice and whispered: “Is it fresh?”
“Blood-fresh, madam” he replied
I looked at him . . . and winked him even closer. He bowed his head down towards me and I whispered into his ear: “ How is The Lord today . . . . Is he . . . . refreshed?”
He rose instantly and looked at me with surprise.
“I beg your pardon, madam . . . “ he said in a firm voice.
I put my finger at a point above the left corner of my mouth and started to scratch.
He instantly put his finger to the dark, little aroused pimple that he had, with 3 straw of hair coming out from the centre.
He let the finger glide slowly to the centre of his mouth as if wanted to whisper: “Hush”
I blinked at him as he stepped backwards and went out of the room.
The clock was 9:50am before the others came for breakfast. They were all pail, as if they had not slept the whole night.
“Barbie-doll” was pail as a ghost with bluish shadows under her eyes.
They got their trays with breakfast.
I rose to leave the room and continue my day.
As I passed “Barbie-doll” I couldn’t hold myself . . .
I bowed down to her and whispered into her ear as I pointed at the glass with tomato-juice: “ It’s fresh . . . I asked . . . it’s blood-fresh.”
In an instant, she rose from the table so fast so the glass turned over and all the tomato-juice swept over the table-cloth. She was standing beside her chair, stiff as a needle, her fingers spread stiff, her head shaking as her screams pulsated out from her throat.
As I left the room, I could hear her “body-guard” call out to the waiter: “ Orange-juice . . . please . . . . orange-juice.”