Nosferatu

Nosferatu

Does not this word

sound like the call

of the death bird

at midnight?

You dare not say it

since the pictures of life

will fade into dark

shadows: ghostly dreams

will side from your heart

and feed on your blood.

So after much debate and a lot of hesitating, I finally decided to watch the old style, black and white horror movies. Nosferatu, Frankenstein, Faust, Bride of Frankenstein, Son of Frankenstein, Ghost of Frankenstein, House of Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, Wolfman, Frankenstein meets the Wolfman, Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Phantom of the Opera, London after Midnight, Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, and so on and so forth. I’ve also just seen Bram Stokers Dracula, which I think was made in the eighties. And was very much impressed with its blatant eroticism, perceived naitivite, and the overall visual style, except for the green mist. The mist needed to be white to represent a twisted form of purity, as the antithesis of spiritual immortality rather than the physical substitute that vampires are known for. Although the metaphor of the sickly green light is not at all lost on me.

I have likewise decided, that even though I enjoy and write contemporary vampire fiction and Urban Fantasy that I should finally read Dracula and Camilla other classic vampire pieces so that I can still honor and reflect the traditional vampire, while allowing it to evolve in my writing to reflect modern issues, concerns and modern social criticism. ( I have a problem with Stephanie Meyer’s sexless, de-fanged and overall strictly moral vampires.) and again, the attempted metaphor does not elude me.

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