Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'
Posted: Sat Mar 13, 2010 2:45 am
I know it's not particularly philosophical, but it has inspired, in me, much philosophical thought concerning life and death.
I do extension english at school and I have been given an assignment based on Dracula. It is a polyphonous text but we never hear from Dracula's perspective. I have to write a chapter from his point of view and place it somehwere in the text.
I've made a start but any input I can recieve would be highly appreciated. Or any thoughts on Dracula in general.
This is the first little bit.
Awake, I sense the setting sun half hidden on the horizon. I am still, restrained by the great command of the waning day. Alas! I, with all of my unearthly power and strength cannot stand before the light. It mocks me. I am too dead to be wakeful before the shining sun. It is the thing of life; it gives life and feeds life. It will not abide me. But now it will not be long before I can rise. It is only a matter of time.
Oh time! Time, time, time - my eternal friend and foe. I know you much too well, and much too little all the same. Even after all the years you have tormented me, I still do not understand you yet. You mischievous thing, you stubborn fiend you! You are persistent with your game.
You are like the constant hunger that gnaws at me day and night. I am hungry - hungry always. I drink and drink and drink the life of so many alive but never can I sate this unending hunger of mine. No amount of life can replace that which I have lost; it can only subdue my starvation for a moment too small.
The sun is almost buried, its shackles are loosening and I am able to stir. I can feel my freedom coming soon.
It is now. Driven by thirst, I climb from my cradle. I must feed.
Later...
I smelled out a disgusting young man on horseback not two miles from by abode. He reeked of filth but I was too hungry to care. When I seized him he cowered, more so than my usual kill. He must have been a sorry man, and he was indeed. I could taste it in his blood. It tasted of hopelessness and sin. The stuff was sour! It made me ill! But against my own weakened will I did not stop. I sucked him dry and all of his tainted blood did little to revive me. His horse’s blood was richer than his own; disgusting. Too seldom do I find a body of pure blood. People start to go off once they have begun to lose their soul. Man is corrupt today more so than he has ever been and he is even more oblivious.
I do extension english at school and I have been given an assignment based on Dracula. It is a polyphonous text but we never hear from Dracula's perspective. I have to write a chapter from his point of view and place it somehwere in the text.
I've made a start but any input I can recieve would be highly appreciated. Or any thoughts on Dracula in general.
This is the first little bit.
Awake, I sense the setting sun half hidden on the horizon. I am still, restrained by the great command of the waning day. Alas! I, with all of my unearthly power and strength cannot stand before the light. It mocks me. I am too dead to be wakeful before the shining sun. It is the thing of life; it gives life and feeds life. It will not abide me. But now it will not be long before I can rise. It is only a matter of time.
Oh time! Time, time, time - my eternal friend and foe. I know you much too well, and much too little all the same. Even after all the years you have tormented me, I still do not understand you yet. You mischievous thing, you stubborn fiend you! You are persistent with your game.
You are like the constant hunger that gnaws at me day and night. I am hungry - hungry always. I drink and drink and drink the life of so many alive but never can I sate this unending hunger of mine. No amount of life can replace that which I have lost; it can only subdue my starvation for a moment too small.
The sun is almost buried, its shackles are loosening and I am able to stir. I can feel my freedom coming soon.
It is now. Driven by thirst, I climb from my cradle. I must feed.
Later...
I smelled out a disgusting young man on horseback not two miles from by abode. He reeked of filth but I was too hungry to care. When I seized him he cowered, more so than my usual kill. He must have been a sorry man, and he was indeed. I could taste it in his blood. It tasted of hopelessness and sin. The stuff was sour! It made me ill! But against my own weakened will I did not stop. I sucked him dry and all of his tainted blood did little to revive me. His horse’s blood was richer than his own; disgusting. Too seldom do I find a body of pure blood. People start to go off once they have begun to lose their soul. Man is corrupt today more so than he has ever been and he is even more oblivious.