BySandra Harris, writer at


The full moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the rundown Birney Castle and its tangled, wildly overgrown grounds. Anna prowled the deserted gardens while Valeria watched her anxiously from an upstairs window. The heavily pregnant Countess Anna was not supposed to leave the castle unsupervised under any circumstances, on the strict orders of the Count himself, but tonight Anna was restless, unwilling to remain cooped up in her bedchamber while outside the moon was full and the night alive with possibilities.

“I shall go mad, Valeria,” she had earlier declared to her handmaiden, as the latter had been serving her with her nightly goblet of fresh drinking blood. “If I have to stay walled up inside this… this mausoleum a second longer, I shall lose my mind and go stark raving mad. I know I shall! Do not fret,” Anna had added placatingly on seeing Valeria’s worried countenance. “I only wish to take a short stroll around the garden so that I may breathe in some fresh night air. I shan’t leave the grounds. In any case Igor, our Master’s watchdog, is on guard in the gatehouse to see that such a thing would be impossible.”

“But the Count has expressly given orders!” Valeria had cried. “If he finds out that I have neglected once more to carry out his orders, his wrath will certainly know no bounds.”

“I will take full responsibility,” soothed Anna as she’d slipped past Valeria to her bedchamber door. “In any case,” she’d tossed back over her shoulder as she hurried down the stone stairs as fast as her great bulk would allow her, “the Count is not due back from his business trip till tomorrow.” Valeria in turn rushed to the window so that she could at least keep her mistress under surveillance, even if it was only from a distance.

Now, Anna wandered restlessly around the gardens. Everywhere seemed to be a riot of thorns and tangles and gnarled old trees and thick, heavy undergrowth. It was a wilderness of a garden, as unkempt and unloved as the dilapidated castle to which it belonged.

But Anna loved it, for now at least. Being here on her own in the grounds of Birney Castle at midnight was the nearest she had come to freedom since the Count had discovered that she was going to have his child. Since then, he had ensured that she was never alone, not even for a minute. Valeria and the nude handmaidens kept her constantly within sight of their watchful eyes. For now, however, even if it were just for a short time, she was alone and enjoying the cool, invigorating night air.

She seated herself, not without some difficulty due to her size, on an old stone seat partially covered with moss. Careless of her dress, a low-cut gown of midnight-blue velvet, she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. It was so beautiful here, she thought, so silent and peaceful. It might help to dissipate some of the restlessness she felt if she were to sit here quietly for a while. A light breeze stirred her long, loose blonde hair and she put up a hand to brush it back from her face.

When a long, low growl suddenly shattered the peace of Anna’s midnight garden, her eyes shot open and she sat up straight, her senses on full alert. A wolf was standing under a tree a mere three or four feet away from her. Anna’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was the biggest wolf she’d ever seen in her life before. He was a magnificent beast. His coat was sleek and glossy, crackling with health and vitality, and his tail was thick and full. Even from here, she could see the way his eyes glittered. Was it menace they held, or was it something else…?

Anna held her breath as he padded towards her, his huge paws making no sound on the grass. He stopped when he reached the stone seat on which she was seated. While Anna sat rooted to the spot, the enormous wolf jumped up suddenly and rested his front paws heavily on the arm of her chair, effectively trapping her between his massive, powerful limbs. His mouth, filled with ferocious-looking white fangs, was only inches from hers and she could feel his hot breath on her face.

She looked into his eyes, thinking at once how familiar they were, how black and magnetic and compelling! Where had she seen them before? As if under a spell, Anna leaned forward and kissed the wolf fully on the mouth. She slipped her tongue between his lips and closed her eyes in bliss, her breasts heaving in her dark-blue velvet gown, as the wolf kissed her back masterfully.

She stroked his luxuriant fur, revelling in the feel and texture of it, and held his face between her two hands, the better to keep him close to her. She felt no fear, only pleasure, as they kissed and kissed and kissed again. When at last their lips drew apart from each other and a trembling Anna opened her eyes, the wolf was gone. In his place was Count Dracula.

“Well, well, well, my dearest Countess,” he said softly, his eyes gleaming with a possessive lust which sent the most delicious shivers of anticipation up and down Anna’s spine. “This is an unexpected pleasure indeed. A most unexpected pleasure…”


This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©


Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

[email protected]



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