Dracula's Bedlam , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Stoker Dacre

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148 pages

English

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Description

Dracula's Bedlam is the second novel in the StokerVerse series, conceptualised and brought to life by writers Chris McAuley and Dacre Stoker, the great-grandnephew of Dracula author Bram Stoker. Guest writer John Peel also contributes to this excellent addition to the series. It is a mixed media presentation with both story content and graphic novel elements from Frederick B. Roseman, along with an introduction from author of the Horror series Deadknobs and Doomsticks and much-loved UK personality Joe Pasquale.Is there a place more enthralling than that of the Asylum? The insane lurk in the shadows with gibbering mouths and twisted minds...Dr. Seward's asylum is particularly interesting; a serial killer has his mind peeled back, a mysterious nurse walks the halls with a sweet smile and devious mind... and, of course, there's the enigmatic Mr. Renfield...Set between the cracks of the original Dracula novel, the StokerVerse series hopes to shed a little light into the dark areas which were not wholly explored by author Bram Stoker. Familiar figures from Dracula and original characters created specifically for the StokerVerse appear in these dark and twisted tales. Dracula's Bedlam is the perfect read for a dark Halloween night... if you dare!

Sujets

Graphic novel

Informations

Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	28 octobre 2021
Nombre de lectures	3
EAN13	9781789828542
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	8 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0374€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

A Stoker McAuley Production

Written by
Dacre Stoker, John Peel & Chris McAuley
Illustrated by
Frederick Roseman
Additional Artwork by
Nicolas Kui
Lettering by
Bonnie Dixon
Cover Artwork
Frederick Roseman

Dracula’s Bedlam
Published in 2021 by
Stoker McAuley Productions
facebook.com/StokerMcAuleyProductions
in association with
AUK Studios
www.aukstudios.uk
Distributed worldwide by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Artwork Copyright © 2021 Andrews UK Limited
Dracula’s Bedlam Text Copyright © 2021 Stoker McAuley Productions
The rights of Dacre Stoker, John Peel and Chris McAuley to be identified as the authors of this work have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
The views and opinions expressed herein belong to the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of Stoker McAuley Productions or Andrews UK Limited.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

It is with deep appreciation that I dedicate this book to the incredibly supportive Paul Kane and Marie O’Regan. Both are titans in the field of horror and have encouraged the production of this book and my development as a writer in the genre.
—Chris McAuley

Introduction
by Joe Pasquale

When we are born, we are a blank piece of paper. There isn’t so much as a blemish on our tiny little souls. Our barely-formed minds are so malleable that they can be moulded into anything that our parents want us to be. As babies, we are only scared of two things: being dropped and loud noises. It is only as we grow that we take on the fears of other people. We are not naturally scared of spiders or of the dark.
Think about it; we are naturally curious about spiders and we were all used to the darkness of our mother’s womb where we lived the first nine months of our life. We are only afraid of these natural occurrences and creatures when an outside influence teaches us that we should be scared of them.
We collect and adopt phobias like they are going out of fashion. If only we had listened to our inner, more intuitive voice, our lives would be infinitely happier.
This is why we are flawed as a species.
When Dr. Chris invited me to write this introduction, I wanted to explain a little about why we experience fear. I also wanted to explore what attracted me to all things horror and why I brought out two best-selling horror anthologies.
When I was a kid, I was knocked down in a hit and run accident. I broke my femur bone quite badly and I missed a year of school. I practically lived on my mum and dad’s sofa for the best part of 365 days. It was a boring existence, really.
However, when my parents and siblings had gone upstairs to bed, I sat up and watched the television until the little white dot came on. Once the transmission of TV shows had finished, the atmosphere of the living room became eerie and, with the advent of the white dot, the background became full of white noise.
I watched every late-night horror film that was ever shown and so my fascination with anything that was made to scare began. The character of Dracula became everything to me, from Max Schreck’s portrayal in Nosferatu, to Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee’s portrayals. I became obsessed with the character.
Growing up, I lived in a place called Grays in Essex. It was a neighbouring town to Purfleet. This was a real place that Bram Stoker decided would be the perfect place for Count Dracula to reside in London, the Carfax estate to be precise.
For most of my teenage years, while other kids were hanging around street corners or trying to buy booze, I would race my bike around the Carfax Estate. I would hang around the asylum, which has been written about in the pages of this book, and hoped that I would meet Dracula.
I thought that maybe he might grace me with the gift of vampirism and I would become one of the undead.
After thirty years of showbusiness, I can confirm that I have met a few vampires, but I never became one!
After nearly sixty years of being on this wonderful Earth, I have, through Dacre Stoker and Chris McAuley, been given the opportunity to be a part of the wonderful world of Dracula. According to Chris, they quite liked my books ( Deadknobs and Doomsticks and its sequel, Deadknobs and Doomsticks 2 , thanks for asking!).
I have finally fulfilled my dream of writing the kind of stories which scared me as a kid.
Oh, there’s nothing wrong with being scared, just make sure it’s something that is worth losing sleep over. Make sure it’s like the things described in this novel, the things which will eventually tear at your flesh and take your soul.
That’s why I love the StokerVerse.
Maybe soon you will hear me knocking at your window, maybe I will be on your telly, but I know that I will be in your bookshelf, daring you to keep reading.
Enjoy.
Joe Pasquale

Foreword from Bram Stoker
as told by Dacre Stoker

“In my babyhood I used, I understand, to be often at the point of death. Certainly, till I was about seven years old, I never knew what it was to stand upright.”
—Bram Stoker
Personal Reminiscences of Henry Irving, 1906
I was greatly influenced by nightmarish horrors which tormented me in my youth. As I cast my mind back to that fearful place, lying sweating, in limbo between life and death. I have realised that, in a strange way, my childhood illness gave me a tremendous insight into the hidden horrors that so many face. My torment lasted for seven years; I was lucky to have survived that time.
The depths of hell that I visited during my sleeping hours gave rise to develop a very dark sense of imagination. The fever which burned my body and almost boiled my mind produced whispers in the darkness. Even today I am not fully convinced that those whispers were purely of my own imagining.
Often, I willed myself away, by keeping watch over the moonlit hours. It was by my fertile imagination and powers of observation that I was given a particular gift. I could examine life through a lens which was of a different hue from most. I saw the entire kaleidoscope of colours that touch human existence. I could notice the most minor of details and felt a burning, passionate frustration against any wrongs I was made aware of. I became a powerful champion and advocate for those who felt unable to express their injustice and grievance.
It was all of this which fashioned me into a writer. A writer not just fashioning words from imagination but also from very real, worldly dangers. To me, a writer suggests that his audience turn and face the world as it is, as well as pointing them to what it should be.
For the first seven years of my life, I was an invalid. I was one so weak as could barely stand. I experienced what it was like to be different. No matter how hard I tried to fit in, I was an outcast. It was my good fortune that my mother possessed a kind and merciful heart. She continually made a point of advocating for the positive treatment for people with disabilities. No matter the ailment, she believed in giving those unfortunate afflicted the best possible opportunity available.
When I felt strong enough, I would venture down the two flights of stairs to join my family for a meal or sit around the fireplace for the lively discussions. I listened intently about the issues my mother was preparing to present to the Society of Statistical Inquiry. Through these conversations, I began to develop a sense for how different the world could be for those less fortunate than I. My Mother was both impassioned and eloquent when it came to topics concerning social justice; the education of the, then named, “deaf and dumb” and the plight of young women in the workhouses. She would paint such a vivid picture of the poor wretches who continually suffered that I often found myself moved to weep.
Needless to say, I was very proud of my mother and her work. In a way we were both kindred spirits and outcasts. She found it difficult to gain admittance to the society, its membership consisted of men; the white haired, older kind. My mother never sought acceptance but demanded the right to present her papers on these important subjects. It was because of her trademark, tenacious determination that, eventually, the president permitted her to do so.
I had one good companion during these difficult times. On days when my health permitted, my mother (or sometimes my nanny) would help me get outdoors. I would spend those days in the park, enjoying the fresh air and rare sunshine. It was here that I became acquainted with Joseph.
He was older than me but still enjoyed the pleasure of collecting ants and attempting to capture greater luck by identifying four leaf clovers.
Joseph had never spoken a day in his life, nonetheless we seemed to be able to understand each other. We engaged in our mutual desire to discover the aspects of life that few observed. Together we explored the hidden worlds of the garden and imagined ourselves as tiny as the ants we observed, discovering a whole