FanFic100-Dracula .025-"Strangers"
Title: None.
Fandom: Dracula: General Novel
Characters: Quincey Harker, a "Stranger", others
Prompt: 025. Strangers
Word Count: 1442
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: LTD here. Don't want to give anything away, so i'll just let you read it.
When Quincey Harker turned twenty-one, three very significant things happened.
The first was that the morning of his twenty-first birthday, his mother fell into such a terrible fit of cries and convulsions that his father was forced to tie her to the bed to restrain her, and sent Quincey to fetch Doctor Seward. Mina had suffered fits all Quincey’s life, but never before had one reached this intensity. While his father and the doctor were in his mother’s room, Quincey sat in the hall with his knees pulled up to his chest and prayed harder than he ever had before.
The second thing was that the morning after his twenty-first birthday, Doctor Seward, who was like a second father to him, came and told Quincey that for the sake of her health, his mother needed to go away. Although “Uncle Jack” always spoke to him as an adult, even an equal, Quincey felt like a child as listened to the explanation of his mother’s condition. It was all in her mind, it always had been, and now something was triggering her fits. It was best for her to go away and rest, and hopefully that would give them a chance to find out what was the trigger.
The third thing that happened was that Seward’s fragile but headstrong daughter Phoebe went with Mina to the countryside. Phoebe was Quincey’s dearest friend, so dear that he had provided her a blood transfusion after violent accident some years prior. They had been nearly inseparable since. Her headstrong nature showed in her studying medicine and psychology with her father, unheard of for a woman. Her father asked her to accompany Mina for a twofold reason: Mina needed another woman there for comfort and companionship, and Phoebe knew how to deal with the strange fits should they come on again.
So, two days after he came of age, Quincey found himself without his mother, his best friend, or his almost-love, the latter two being wrapped up in Phoebe. His father buried his concern for his mother in his work, and Quincey felt very lonely. His classes took his mind off some things, but he was a bright student, and so they could only occupy so much time and thought.
The days were short and cold, and London was always dark as November passed into December. Soon enough, the term ended, and Quincey found himself faced with a month of holiday alone, for his father had gone to spend through Christmas and Epiphany with his mother.
One dreary evening Quincey was contemplating something, anything he could do to distract himself from his solitude when there was a knock at the front door. He answered it to be barreled over by Abraham Holmwood and hi younger brother Morris.
“Quincey, you rascal, what do you mean hiding in here like a hermit? It’s snowing out!” said Bram.
Laughing, Quincey shoved him off. “Obviously, you’re dripping all over the floor!”
“Come on Quince!” pleaded Morris. “The annual war is already getting underway in the park, and we’re going to get utterly thrashed without you!”
“It’s already past eight. Does your father even know you’re out, Morris?” asked Quincey. The brothers’ grins confirmed that, as usual, they had snuck out of the house to join the rest of the boys in the park. After a moment, Quincey broke into a grin. “Give me five minutes to grab my coat and gloves, and I’ll meet you out front.”
Once at the park, the boys lost no time in claiming and beginning to fortify their favorite vantage point, right at the edge of the bridge. The ice on the stream was too thin for any one to make a direct assault on them from that direction, and they could be sheltered from the falling snow by pulling back beneath the bridge. Morris, being the smallest and quickest, would dart out as a one man raiding party and steal food, drink, and other supplies from the enemies. Quincey was the defense, and Bram the offense, protecting their fort and supplies. Although all the participants were school chums and siblings, this was played as all out war, and the battles had been know to go for beyond twenty-four hours.
It was going on midnight, and everyone was starting to get tired save a very few. Bram and Morris decided to take advantage of the slowing attacks to try and cross the park to the fort of a neighbor who they knew would have plenty of supplies ripe to be raided. Quincey bundled himself in a blanket and prepared to stay on watch until they got back. After a while he was starting to drift off, but suddenly started to fully awake.
“Hello?” he said tentatively to the night air. The strangest thing, he could have sworn he’d heard his name. But that was ridiculous, no one was around.
“Quincey?”
He jumped up, looking around to see if he spotted any raiding parties. The snow glowed in the dim winter moonlight, and showed nothing to suggest that there was anyone else about.
“Quincey!”
It was familiar then, and it was a female voice. Quincey crawled out from under the bridge and stood, scanning the park. “I am completely alone,” he muttered, “I’m hearing someone who isn’t even in the same city, much less the same park, and now I’m talking to myself. I’m going mad.”
“But it is a pleasant madness, yes?”
Quincey whirled around. There was a man standing on the bridge, looking down at him. His face was almost as pale as the snow, and provided a strangely stark contrast to his black clothing. There was an odd look in the stranger’s eyes, a look that Quincey was sure he had seen somewhere else before. He eyed him carefully.
The stranger seemed almost amused. “You do not think so?” he asked, his voice carring a hit of a foreign accent. “The voice is a sweet one, I think.”
“The question is, how do you hear my own mind’s tricks?” asked Quincey, walking around to join the stranger on the bridge.
“It is not so much a trick as a gift, I think,” the stranger replied. “It is a sort of joining of minds, two thinking in one. Your mother knew of it.”
“You know my mother?” asked Quincey, narrowing his eyes. Something was not right about this man, but he wasn’t precisely sure what.
“Oh yes, I know her, though I believe I am more fond of her than she of me.”
“How do you know her?”
The stranger laughed then, a harsh and cruel, but also soothing sound, if it was possible. “Come, Quincey Harker, you and I should take a walk.”
Half Quincey’s mind screamed that he should run, but somehow he felt that it would be useless to try and do so. He nodded slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. They walked in silence, gradually leaving the park and taking to the street. They walked a long time, but neither seemed to tire. Eventually Quincey looked up to find they were at the gate to Doctor Seward’s asylum.
“What business do you have here?” he said sharply. The stranger turned and gazed hard into the accusing eyes that watched him.
“Doctor Seward and I are old…acquaintances, as well. I thought perhaps to call on him.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, sir,” Quincey said pointedly. “And I would be much obliged if you would also leave Doctor Seward’s daughter alone from now on.”
The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Quincey pulled his hand out of his pocket and very calmly held it out toward the stranger, who pulled back away from him. The silver crucifix glinted in the dim light. The stranger smiled, his sharp canine teeth clearly visible.
“A gift from your mother, no doubt.”
“Yes,” said Quincey. “And unless you go now, I’ll show you how she taught me to use it. My family is done with you, and so are the Sewards and the Holmwoods. Now go back to your own land and remain what you are: a legend.”
A mist began to shroud them as the stranger faded into it. “We shall meet again, young Mr. Harker,” said the accented voice, and then Quincey was alone before the asylum gate. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes, hoping it would work as it had before.
“Phoebe?” he said, quietly but aloud.
“Quincey?” The voice was faint, as it had been before, be audible. Quincey smiled.
“Are you and mother all right?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll come visit soon. I love you."
Fandom: Dracula: General Novel
Characters: Quincey Harker, a "Stranger", others
Prompt: 025. Strangers
Word Count: 1442
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: LTD here. Don't want to give anything away, so i'll just let you read it.
When Quincey Harker turned twenty-one, three very significant things happened.
The first was that the morning of his twenty-first birthday, his mother fell into such a terrible fit of cries and convulsions that his father was forced to tie her to the bed to restrain her, and sent Quincey to fetch Doctor Seward. Mina had suffered fits all Quincey’s life, but never before had one reached this intensity. While his father and the doctor were in his mother’s room, Quincey sat in the hall with his knees pulled up to his chest and prayed harder than he ever had before.
The second thing was that the morning after his twenty-first birthday, Doctor Seward, who was like a second father to him, came and told Quincey that for the sake of her health, his mother needed to go away. Although “Uncle Jack” always spoke to him as an adult, even an equal, Quincey felt like a child as listened to the explanation of his mother’s condition. It was all in her mind, it always had been, and now something was triggering her fits. It was best for her to go away and rest, and hopefully that would give them a chance to find out what was the trigger.
The third thing that happened was that Seward’s fragile but headstrong daughter Phoebe went with Mina to the countryside. Phoebe was Quincey’s dearest friend, so dear that he had provided her a blood transfusion after violent accident some years prior. They had been nearly inseparable since. Her headstrong nature showed in her studying medicine and psychology with her father, unheard of for a woman. Her father asked her to accompany Mina for a twofold reason: Mina needed another woman there for comfort and companionship, and Phoebe knew how to deal with the strange fits should they come on again.
So, two days after he came of age, Quincey found himself without his mother, his best friend, or his almost-love, the latter two being wrapped up in Phoebe. His father buried his concern for his mother in his work, and Quincey felt very lonely. His classes took his mind off some things, but he was a bright student, and so they could only occupy so much time and thought.
The days were short and cold, and London was always dark as November passed into December. Soon enough, the term ended, and Quincey found himself faced with a month of holiday alone, for his father had gone to spend through Christmas and Epiphany with his mother.
One dreary evening Quincey was contemplating something, anything he could do to distract himself from his solitude when there was a knock at the front door. He answered it to be barreled over by Abraham Holmwood and hi younger brother Morris.
“Quincey, you rascal, what do you mean hiding in here like a hermit? It’s snowing out!” said Bram.
Laughing, Quincey shoved him off. “Obviously, you’re dripping all over the floor!”
“Come on Quince!” pleaded Morris. “The annual war is already getting underway in the park, and we’re going to get utterly thrashed without you!”
“It’s already past eight. Does your father even know you’re out, Morris?” asked Quincey. The brothers’ grins confirmed that, as usual, they had snuck out of the house to join the rest of the boys in the park. After a moment, Quincey broke into a grin. “Give me five minutes to grab my coat and gloves, and I’ll meet you out front.”
Once at the park, the boys lost no time in claiming and beginning to fortify their favorite vantage point, right at the edge of the bridge. The ice on the stream was too thin for any one to make a direct assault on them from that direction, and they could be sheltered from the falling snow by pulling back beneath the bridge. Morris, being the smallest and quickest, would dart out as a one man raiding party and steal food, drink, and other supplies from the enemies. Quincey was the defense, and Bram the offense, protecting their fort and supplies. Although all the participants were school chums and siblings, this was played as all out war, and the battles had been know to go for beyond twenty-four hours.
It was going on midnight, and everyone was starting to get tired save a very few. Bram and Morris decided to take advantage of the slowing attacks to try and cross the park to the fort of a neighbor who they knew would have plenty of supplies ripe to be raided. Quincey bundled himself in a blanket and prepared to stay on watch until they got back. After a while he was starting to drift off, but suddenly started to fully awake.
“Hello?” he said tentatively to the night air. The strangest thing, he could have sworn he’d heard his name. But that was ridiculous, no one was around.
“Quincey?”
He jumped up, looking around to see if he spotted any raiding parties. The snow glowed in the dim winter moonlight, and showed nothing to suggest that there was anyone else about.
“Quincey!”
It was familiar then, and it was a female voice. Quincey crawled out from under the bridge and stood, scanning the park. “I am completely alone,” he muttered, “I’m hearing someone who isn’t even in the same city, much less the same park, and now I’m talking to myself. I’m going mad.”
“But it is a pleasant madness, yes?”
Quincey whirled around. There was a man standing on the bridge, looking down at him. His face was almost as pale as the snow, and provided a strangely stark contrast to his black clothing. There was an odd look in the stranger’s eyes, a look that Quincey was sure he had seen somewhere else before. He eyed him carefully.
The stranger seemed almost amused. “You do not think so?” he asked, his voice carring a hit of a foreign accent. “The voice is a sweet one, I think.”
“The question is, how do you hear my own mind’s tricks?” asked Quincey, walking around to join the stranger on the bridge.
“It is not so much a trick as a gift, I think,” the stranger replied. “It is a sort of joining of minds, two thinking in one. Your mother knew of it.”
“You know my mother?” asked Quincey, narrowing his eyes. Something was not right about this man, but he wasn’t precisely sure what.
“Oh yes, I know her, though I believe I am more fond of her than she of me.”
“How do you know her?”
The stranger laughed then, a harsh and cruel, but also soothing sound, if it was possible. “Come, Quincey Harker, you and I should take a walk.”
Half Quincey’s mind screamed that he should run, but somehow he felt that it would be useless to try and do so. He nodded slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. They walked in silence, gradually leaving the park and taking to the street. They walked a long time, but neither seemed to tire. Eventually Quincey looked up to find they were at the gate to Doctor Seward’s asylum.
“What business do you have here?” he said sharply. The stranger turned and gazed hard into the accusing eyes that watched him.
“Doctor Seward and I are old…acquaintances, as well. I thought perhaps to call on him.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, sir,” Quincey said pointedly. “And I would be much obliged if you would also leave Doctor Seward’s daughter alone from now on.”
The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Quincey pulled his hand out of his pocket and very calmly held it out toward the stranger, who pulled back away from him. The silver crucifix glinted in the dim light. The stranger smiled, his sharp canine teeth clearly visible.
“A gift from your mother, no doubt.”
“Yes,” said Quincey. “And unless you go now, I’ll show you how she taught me to use it. My family is done with you, and so are the Sewards and the Holmwoods. Now go back to your own land and remain what you are: a legend.”
A mist began to shroud them as the stranger faded into it. “We shall meet again, young Mr. Harker,” said the accented voice, and then Quincey was alone before the asylum gate. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes, hoping it would work as it had before.
“Phoebe?” he said, quietly but aloud.
“Quincey?” The voice was faint, as it had been before, be audible. Quincey smiled.
“Are you and mother all right?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll come visit soon. I love you."