Lucy Westenra’s Diary

22 September.—  I write this in a state of great confusion. I am unsure if I am Lucy Westenra or if I have somehow become a different person in the span of a few days time. I have no recollection of the past few days. The last thing I remember is my darling Arthur’s eyes on mine and then nothing. I woke inside of a coffin, unaware of how I got there, and I fear that the worst has happened to me except I am not dead it seems, which terrifies me even more. My mind continues to wander to the memory of wings flapping against my bedroom window. I feel quite different than I did before. I am no longer weak and frail. I feel full of life at this moment and take joy in this. But I am quite thirsty. My throat aches and my mind is filled with thoughts that make me shudder. At this moment, I hear the symphony of small voices in the distance. I will continue writing, but at present I am overwhelmed with thirst.         

23 September.— I shall continue where I left last night. My senses are more enhanced now, more refined it seems. I can hear voices that seem to come from miles away and I can smell scents and see objects more acutely than one could ever imagine. I followed the sound of those small voices until I found myself in a neighborhood where children were playing games in the street. My thirst was more than I could bear at the moment. This feeling overcame me and in my state of mind, I kidnapped a child. It was as if my body was moving without me telling it to. I sunk my teeth into the child’s neck, tasting the sweet nectar, the burning in my throat subsiding with each drink. I am no longer frightened. I am no longer confused. In this moment, I feel quite powerful.