- Short intro on Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde
It is an epistolary novel is a novel written as a series of documents. The usual form is letters, although diary entries, newspaper clippings and other documents are sometimes used. Recently, electronic ”documents” such as recordings and radio, blogs, and e-mails have also come into use.
Key concept: suspension of disbelief, byronic hero
2. Bram Stoker’s Dracula
3. Slow paced and fast-paced epistolary narrative
by Bram Stoker
Jonathan Harker’s Journal
3 May. Bistritz. __Left Munich at 8:35 P. M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called ”paprika hendl,” and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.
I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don’t know how I should be able to get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.
I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.
I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.
I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.
I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was ”mamaliga”, and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call ”impletata”. (Mem.,get recipe for this also.)
I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.
It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
You are going to write a page from an epistolatory novel. You can be inspired by how Stoker and Tolkien does it.
In an epistolary novel there is often details such as dates, places, or equivalent, and the style is similar to that of which a tv reporter would use.
Post as a comment.
Suggestions for setting and mystery:
- The tomb of Nyarlathotep in Egypt has been found
- Numerous bodies are found in Calcutta, the thugee cult of Kali has returned?
- Your own
9 reaktioner till “Gothic Horror 1”
we have soon reached our final destination. We’ve been travelling for the last 40 days. No sign of the herb as of yet. Saw an old man at the side of the road John noted how the man stared blindly.
The sun is slowly disappearing. We decide to set up camp at the side of the road. Got a fire running, Briggs started to heat 5 cans of beans. There are several trees that have been cut down by what seems to be beavers. John comes back with water that he got from a nearby lake. We proceed with setting up a wind shelter. Tomorrow we’ll be 1 days march away from our destination. If I don’t find the herb by then we head back home.
Just heard a big splash from the lake behind us, John cant stay quiet, he seems scared for some reason.
I was sitting in my car driving home and in the same time texting with my friend about what to do in the weekend and while doing it a accidentally took the wrong road. The road was very long, dirty, empty and had some few cracks so i didn’t drive very fast. As i was just driving i saw someone very weird looking, it looked like someone had put so much make up on its face and arms just too scare people some what looking dead while walking. Some meters in front of me was a old tree house that i decided to park by so i can look whats going on with the person. I parked the car and started to walk slowly behind the creepy person.
Tuesday, 5th May 2008 Leaving my house at 08:01, one minute early. I arrive at my ubers location, 23rd downing street, and text ”am outside”. This unknown woman steps into my car and tells me to drive her to the Kentucky airport. I start diving as i always do and quickly find my way up on the highway. After about 30 minutes of travel time we arrive at the airport. 09:11 the lady hands me the money and then proceeds to hop out the car and make her way into the airport. As its time for another customer i step on the gas to reach the center of town as quickly as i can. There was a woman on the town square walking around with big sombrero of sorts (quite weird). 10.42, my second target for the day is walking towards me. I align the bead with her head an pull the trigger. The pellets hit her face sending her entire head flying.
The Battle of Trovania.
The journal of Olgoth.
January 4th — my arrival at Gorck were blocky and the seats on the small wooden row boat at the coast of Istra. At the place, time did´t exist. The travel by foot soon begun and my sword swung against my hip. While my armor weighed me down. I arrived with an army of thousands, some did not have the armor and skils that were needed.
The food were terrible, the ham and the potatoes were farmed at a near farm were the taste of feces from the cows really showed. I feel lost and done for. The people and I did´t have a reson to fight. The king got out here and it shows. Most of our is fighting for pride and honor.
The walking, all the walking. Miles after miles people collapse of exhaustion. The leaders did´t care. The people that had given up did´t just give up, they gave up on life by the decision of the leaders. i cloud not give up now. I will never reach the grave by this disgusting animals we call leaders.
January 15th. We arrived at the mountain of Iduluss. Our camps are sett and we are ready for the cold night. The leaders are at the large fire drinking beer and wine. I feel disgusted by the fact that we are just figures in this pesky war.
January 16th. The day after we sat camp beside the mountain. Some tried to escape in to the darkness of night but were struck down on the way to freedom. And in the morning one of the leaders showed us the consequences of cowardliness by showing the head of one of the people that tried to escape.
In the fourth fullmoon of the year in the first age.
The fullmoon shining on the road we rode on. The road which would eventually lead to Chathanglas. We, Methild, Gantar and Lorsan were fully packed on our horses. Exhausted from the war we seeked an end to . War that from the beginning seemed to have no end. The war that said it was up to me to end. I Methild whom had been nobody but a simple farmer, a simple pawn. But the legacy spoke of a farmer boy who’d suffer the most suffering and seek the power to destroy the evil of all evil. All this came to me one day, and I was unsure of what it meant for me back then. Now I now. I was told I am going to be that farmer who would suffer.
The first fullmoon of the year. First age.
This very day, I was intrigued to hear that a powerful knight travelling from Chathanglas was seeking my presence at the townsquare later today. I hear he has information that will alternate my whole life.
INTE FINSK (not finished)
It was the 6th August, in the evening about 7’o clock. I just got out of the cold shower, it was refreshing and made me feel a lot better after a stressful day at work.
I received a message on my phone. My mom told me she was going on an adventure with some of her friend and now probably she just wanted me to know they were there, at Loejhutt hotel in Tushenberg. Everything had gone well so far.
In the morning of 7th August at around 8’o clock, I received my second message from my mother. She said they were getting ready for the hike in the Stelle Woods and said it wouldn’t be longer than 5 hours until she got signal to her phone again. So I looked at the clocked and wrote down the time, 8’o clock.
I started to get worried, the clock were almost around 17 in the evening. I haven’t received a message from my mother. She told me she would contact me as soon she could, but what could have happen to her and her friends in the Stelle Woods. I knew some people have said something about ghosts and weird children running around and playing by themselves in the woods. But I didn’t know if it was a old myth to scare other children for not entering alone.
August the 17th, the police have been notified about my missing mother and her friends. But they haven’t been helping much, not even gone looking for them. But just when I started to eat my delicious chocolate cake my phone started to vibrate. It was a picture from my mother…………To be continued…
my name jeff
Extract from business Journal, found in the kitchen of Jacob Alzén.
Tuesday, 5th May 2008 Leaving my house at 08:01, one minute early. I arrive at my ubers location, 23rd downing street, and text ”am outside”. Unknown woman steps into my car and tells me to drive her to the Kentucky airport. I start diving as i always do and quickly find my way up on the highway. After about 30 minutes of travel time we arrive at the airport. 09:11 the lady hands me the money and then proceeds to hop out the car and make her way into the airport. I step on the gas to reach the center of town as quickly as i can. There was a woman on the town square walking around with big sombrero of sorts (quite weird). She walks to a café and sits down. 10.42, i get the confirmation for my second target of the day. Its her. I align the bead with her head and pull the trigger. The pellets hit her face sending her entire head flying.
Excerpt from diary of Wilma Hudginsson, Crime Scene Investigation, CSI. Found at her bedside after she was put in an insane asylum.
Another day another contracted kill. No mercy, no emotion, no traces. There was blood everywhere when we arrived, and only a handfull of people at the town square that is otherwise densely packed at that time. The pellets had landed square in her face and not only shredded her face to a mince meat, but also ripped her head straight of her shoulders. These gunmen are roaming the streets, picking of high profile targets as they middle land at the Kentucky airport and hit the town for cafés or shops. They hide their main income in different services. There is this on person in particular, who rides around in a taxi giving people rides, and also carries around a double barreled shotgun, that he shoots out of his car. I suspects he is the one responsible for this hit as well, but my colleagues aren’t so sure, as the only reported trace of the murder was the loud bang. No one has reported seeing a suspicious car or anything like that. Anyway, my main concern right now is mopping up the damage, but getting my coworkers to trust my gut feeling might be an issue in the future.
Voice Memos From James Barkley’s Phone
18 June. Bombay.
Arrived at the airport at 13:48 P.M, on 15th June. Left Heathrow airport at 20:52 P.M, arriving in India after a 6-hour flight. The university called again to check if I arrived at the airport. Extremely tired, can’t wait to have a nice warm bath and a good night sleep.
19 June. Bombay.
Left the hotel at 11:36 A.M, felt hungry so I’ll look for something to eat for now. The streets are littered with wrappers and other miscellaneous junk. The buildings a few blocks from the hotel are made with clay and it is visible. It is incredibly contrasting compared to the modern buildings close to the hotel.
Found a great place a few blocks from the hotel where they sell food. They have a dish with spinach and chicken and a side of cucumber salad.
(Remember to ask for recipe for mum)
It is 14:28 P.M now and It’s still bright outside so I think I’ll head to the market to shop a bit. It would be boring to just stay in the hotel room. I’ll have to head to the university to study soon anyways so it’s better to enjoy myself now rather than now.
19:08. On my way back. Some old lady asked me to help her with something. I still have some time to be outside but the lady is insisting that I help her. I feel sorry for because she reminds me of my granny so I decide to help her. I think she’s leading me to her house right now. Outside her house, asking me to help her prepare her son’s body for cremation.
From what I gathered from our conversation on our way here, her son died from an accident and she doesn’t have any other family to rely on so she had to ask me for help because I looked ”reliable”.
In her house right now, her son’s body is visible. It’s on a table covered with flowers and other things to cover up the stench according to her. She’s handing me a bowl of water and a rag. She want’s me to wipe his body. Wiping the body, surprisingly warm. I can feel Slight twitching from the body. I give The old lady her rag and bowl of water and I start to leave. And just by chance, I feel the urge to move out of the way and it pays off.