An extract from my novel 'Milady's Room', in progress.
'From Germany he moved to England by steamboat, a crowded, low class one, in what ought to be his last immersion into human society.
With a masochistic irony, he had planned to land in Whitby, the same destination to which the well known fictional character of Count Dracula landed arriving from Transylvania. You may be induced to smile, with a sad compassion, to his extravagance. Yes, indeed: it was a queer idea born from an ill-minded desperate man who considered himself a living dead. But his intention was opposite to the fictional character’s one. He didn’t want at all to carry on and spread his own kind: he just wanted to be neglected, hoping that the rest of society should soon forget about him, and finally hoping to die early and to reach his beloved.
He stopped for one night in Whitby, taking the occasion to visit the town: if you ever have visited it you should certainly know the feeling aroused by the impressive sight of the cliff, so well described by the Irish novelist, with the ruins of the abbey and the jagged old grave stone profiles outlined against the sky, the wild sea roaring underneath. He walked up the slope, stopping at the top of the hill, among the stones of the grave yard, consumed by time and weather agents: I’m ready to guess that, looking down at the sea from that evocative spot, a bad thought came across his mind. You know, human beings are fundamentally weak, and sometimes it doesn’t take much for a man taking hard decisions that rationally he should never take. But, as I told you, he was a clever man, and for his sake his cleverness and rationality got the better of his negative feelings.'