Author:
Christopher Antony Meade (Laughing a lot)
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Date Posted: 07:46:34 09/04/14 Thu
The highlight of my visit to Transylvania last year was my meeting with the very handsome young Ferdinand and the visit to his castle, situated on a rocky promontory, in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains. I can still recall the graceful way he almost floated up the steps that led to the dark heavy door of his fortress home. The gleaming whiteness of his, oh so sharp, teeth when he smiled is still a happy recollection. I really did feel like I was a great lady coming home when he gave a sweeping bow as he welcomed me across his ancient threshold.
I had been staying in a rather boring concrete box like hotel, which dated from the Communist era and was considered the best accommodation for tourists in that out of the way district. The comrades might have considered it to be the height of luxury but I had a longing to experience the more authentic side of Transylvania, so when the gorgeous young man, sitting next to me in the restaurant, told me that the castle, sitting glowering down on the village from its limestone crag, was his home, I eagerly accepted his invitation to stay overnight.
So there I was two hours later sipping a glass of the deepest red wine as we sat opposite each other by the blazing fire in the great Hall. Portraits of ancestors, in costumes going back to the 14th century, gazed down on us as my host chatted animatedly about the attractions, he was determined to show me, in the local area. Even though I was getting slightly tipsy, I did notice that the dust seemed to sit a bit too much on most surfaces within the room. There seemed to be an absence of servants and I noticed that he brought the wine and glasses into the room himself, rather than ring for somebody to serve it. I was too politely brought up to make comment however, besides what's a little dust between friends?
After we chatted amiably, for what must have been two or three hours, my growing more handsome by the minute companion, asked me if I would like to be shown to my bedroom. I had been anticipating an invitation to his chamber but I comforted myself with the notion that he might come to my room after I had retired, so I readily agreed to his suggestion. I noticed again the cobwebs and the dust that bestrewed the wide staircase leading to the upper floors. The servants were either very lazy or they didn't exist. I was informed, that as I was a special guest, I would be staying in the Count’s room. The Count apparently was a 19th century ancestor and his portrait adorned the very special quilt on the big four-poster bed. A tremor of excitement agitated my being, when I considered that I would be spending the night in such august splendour.
My, oh so HOT, companion bowed again as he left me outside the bedroom door. I was eagerly anticipating his return as I switched on the lights to survey the room. For a change, there was no dust. Indeed the welcoming smell of furniture polish wafted to my surprised nostrils. Against the wall opposite the door was an immense four-poster bed, the perfect place I thought for investigating whether ancient lineage came with great potency. When I looked at the portrait, that was embroidered on the quilt, all notions of fun and games evaporated right away.
Staring up at me was the figure of a man lying in a coffin. The embroiderer’s skill must have been great indeed. Scarlet thread had been skilfully used to show the trickle of blood coming from the snarling mouth and the hands seemed to almost reach out to grasp me, as I stared in transfixed horror at the monstrosity I was expected to have as my bedfellow. What really scared me was the realisation that, although the face before me was distorted by savage rage, there was still a very strong resemblance to the young man who had charmed me by the fireside earlier that evening. My feelings of lustful anticipation rapidly dissolved, to be replaced by dreadful forebodings, when I remembered hearing a key being turned in the lock just after I'd entered the room.
As I said at the beginning, the highpoint of my holiday in Transylvania was meeting the very handsome Count Ferdinand. The low point was discovering that his surname was Dracula.
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A HOLIDAY WITH A DIFFERENCE