The Voyage of Galilea

I was obsessed with him. I was obsessed with every tale, every story that had ever been told about him. I wrote his name with a penmanship that it’s only found in dreams and beyond. I knew not his essence. I only knew his name. Vladislaus. I knew his story.

I was a child prodigy. I was the science geek at school. I was the girl nobody would play with. I didn’t have time for silly games. I had no time for boy talk. Every chance I had, I spent in my laboratory. My parents had finally understood that there was no point in them trying to make me be like the other girls my age. I mean, they were to blame, perhaps. They gave me a most fitting name, Galilea. No nicknames, please.

My room was my laboratory. I had everything I needed there. Bookcases overflowing with novels, scientific encyclopedia, and, of course, I had every version there was ever written about Dracula. I was a scientist and I was a book worm. I was a girl and I was a woman. I was alone and I had the stars.

I liked to work at night. After doing my homework and sharing a simple meal with my parents and my younger brother, I would just close the door and listen to Beethoven or Chopin or Tchaikovsky. I would work on my masterpiece.

I was inspired by a powerful machine I once saw in a movie. That device was called “Cerebro.” It was the tool that Professor Xavier used to communicate with other fellow mutants in X-MEN.

I was destined to build something even more powerful than anything, real and fictional, that was ever invented. I was to build a time-traveling virtual portal. You only see those in Sci-Fi movies. Mine was to be real. Mine was going to take me back in time to Transylvania.

My work was finished on the eve of my 25th birthday. By then, I had moved to my own apartment. I had the freedom to build a lab that would comprise 3 rooms. I had half a dozen windows with telescopes to watch the stars.

I baptized my device The Count. Nobody in the world knew about it. I had to remain secretive. My time-traveling machine could present a threat if misused. So it was my faith to work alone. Only I and the stars would share the secrets of The Count.

I prayed to God to give me assign when it was safe to use my machine. I would seat by the window for hours looking for a falling star, waiting for the moon to change its orbit.

I made a leaving by contributing with articles to several leading magazines in my field. I would also teach in elementary schools. These I only did on a part –time basis. I loved the kids. I love their eagerness to learn. I loved the way they would ask me questions.

One night, I knew it was time. My heart skipped a beat. I raging thunderstorm fell over us, devouring us. Lightning filled the skies. I could read the language of nature. I trusted my instincts. So I went to the special room where The Count was fully installed. It looked like any other virtual game at any arcade. There was a chair which moved from side to side or upside down if needed. I had my goggles and I had a huge screen in front of me to see what was happening. My machine was programmed to cross the Carpathian Mountains and to take me to Castle Dracula.

I locked the door and I blocked every sound there was. Was I scared? Yes, I was. I was doing something that no other human being had ever tried. I was fulfilling the dream of many. I sat down and adjusted my goggles. I had earphones. The earphones soon filled with a soft sound, like waves crashing upon a shore…I closed my eyes for a moment. I turned on the machine. I put on a seat belt which had me in place. The chair could move. I couldn’t.

The screen surrounded me. At first there was a shower of little stars. Then, my body started to feel a bit of electricity flowing. It was pleasant. It was welcomed. My skin felt a tingling which made me moan for a moment. And so my voyage started….

****

Count Vladislaus Dragulia was 40 years old, or he would have been, if he were a mortal. He was murdered by a young man named Gabriel Van Helsing some 400 years ago. Van Helsing was a holy man. An immortal with no memory, and yet, he had the skills and the wisdom of venerated monks from the Eastern Hemisphere. Van Helsing, like me, led a solitary existence. Very little is known about him, except that he was a brave knight of a secret organization which was based in the Vatican. The Knights of the Holy Order would travel to the most faraway places to vanquish evil. These were men-and a few women-that would spend their entire existence vanishing vampires, destroying warlocks and hunting werewolves.

Because I had friends of friends and other not-so-reputable acquaintances, I had learned what had happened to Vladislaus. He still existed. He was the longest living vampire and perhaps, at one point in time, the most powerful. I had an old print of him back in the days where he was still a mortal. I cherished it. I loved it so much. No other man was ever more beautiful. He had long hair. Straight. Sleek. It fell right below his shoulders. He had eyes so blue. Eyes that would tell you a legend. His eyes were ancient. His gaze was mesmerizing. I had fallen in love with these eyes. No other eyes would ever pierce my heart but his. I had to find him.

Vladislaus, I had learned, had lost his mind with grief and rage. He was abandoned by all, including his Lord, The Devil himself. Gabriel Van Helsing had gotten a hold of him. To help a gorgeous gypsy princess, he underwent a series of misadventures that eventually led him to Castle Dracula. There, with the help of a 7-foot-tall misshapen creature, he was able to stop Dracula. Some say, Van Helsing became a werewolf himself. Yet, the Count lived. He lived. One of his brides survived, Aleera. She was the youngest of the three. She was said to be the Master’s favorite.

Aleera bore the Count 3000 children in 400 years. All of them were destroyed.

Dracula was defeated. He had lost too much along the way. He had no desire to go on living. Aleera still gave him much pleasure. She was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. Yet, he was missing the joie de vivre of other times. He was left in misery inside his ice fortress. He was condemned to the knowledge that he would not ever feel love or compassion or fear or sorrow.

I wanted so much to change that.

And so this is my story.