Lucy Westenra’s Diary

18 September. - I shall try and record everything exactly as I remember, for I fear this may be the last bit of strength God grants me.  Oh Mina!  How you always valued details, with your journals and mad dreams of becoming a journalist!  You have so much time left with your dear Jonathan and your strange shorthand.  If only time was something afforded me and I could once more hold your hand or lie in bed with you and talk through the night.  You have saved me from more than my terrifying sleep-walks and I pray for your happiness!  It is in imitation of you that I recall these horrid events.

          I first recall the sweet taste and warmth of a familiar liquid along my lips.  I began to feel as though I was slowly drifting upwards from a frigid sea only to submerge again into a warm, still, welcoming water.  That frightful voice of my nightmares urged me to sleep.  Yet, my mind knew I must not heed the voice as thoughts of my sweet love filled my head.  My dear, dear Arthur!  Should you find this diary, take comfort in my words and know that I fought for you alone!  The voice soon gave way to the anxious voices of Dr. Seward and that dear, sweet Dr. Van Helsing.  Though I hadn't the strength to understand their words, there was much anxiety and fear in their talk.  I felt a sharp penetration, like the piercing sensation I have felt above my breast in those ghastly dreams.  Before I drifted off once more, I heard the queer speech of that brave Mr. Morris.  If only I could remember and understand more!

          I do not quite know how much time passed, but I awoke to moonlight streaming through the window, covering the room in its ghostly white light.  The fog that had covered my mind began to lift and the previous events resurfaced in my memory.  My poor, dear mother!  I dare not think of the awful fright that caused her frail heart to cease beating.  I fear it will be all too soon that I see her again.  The nightmarish voice is gaining power and I haven’t the strength to fight it.  There is a fire burning in my breast now that flows throughout my body, bringing a vague sense of desire.  I both fear and welcome it.  The terrible flapping on the window-pane is growing ever louder and He is calling to me.  I can no longer fight it and must follow Him into the bleak darkness.  One last time, good night and God help me.