I thought about how I thought (funny) Dracula was scary way back long ago, and though books can make me emotional I can’t imagine them making me feel afraid. I remember only that I felt scared, not how being scared felt. So I decided to read Dracula again. This time the actual book.
My problem is that I keep getting distracted by stuff like this:
Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks, green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly.
I’ve been bouncing and swaying violently right along with Harker in that carriage, but I keep getting stuck staring out into the scenery and forgetting to pay attention to what else is going on in that journal that he is, by some miracle that defies the laws of physics, writing legibly in with a feather pen in all that bouncing around. Though he probably has taken a break to watch the views himself, and likely what I’m reading is something he wrote later on. (What tense is that?) He sort of goes back and forth with the writing, wrote, and will write thing. This is why I often get more into the words of a story than into the story itself. And that is why I can’t imagine getting scared. But I’m sure Jonathan will put me at the center of some horrible ring of witchy fire at night in the mountains where no one but evil or helpless beings can hear me scream. Or something like that.
I’ll keep you updated.