Dracula
is gone. The world is suddenly bright and colorful, the thunderclouds and
cobwebs have vanished, the lightning crashes no more and the wolves are silent.
The candles have ceased to flicker because they have been replaced with
electric lights. Where is the scream that split the night? Where are the
children of the night and the music that once they made? Where is the ripple
that stirs the spine? Where is the voice that cracks like doom? Where is
Dracula?
Dracula
is gone.
Not
only Dracula. Not just Dracula. The greatest villain ever to raise his hoary
head. Crisp with the icicles of Hell. He was not always a villain. Each
character, whether good (Horror Express,
Hugo) or evil (Star Wars, Castle of
the Living Dead), resonated with a power unearthly. As did his voice. I
could have listened to it all day…
No
stone monuments or carven crypts may rise in his honor, yet still his name lives
on. Immortal. Two hundred films. His voice will yet crack like doom in narrated
audio books and heavy metal albums. Though he is gone, he is not gone and it is
too late.
Dracula
is dead, long live Dracula.
Dracula
has risen from the grave.
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