Whispers from the Beyond

I sat in my comfortable room, which Dr. Richard had given me in his beautiful countryside home. I had left the hotel three days ago, but for some reason, I had left my belongings there. I didn't quite understand why...

A vague feeling deep inside me had made me leave a part of myself outside the walls of this house.

I lit a cigarette and began to think... What had driven me to involve myself in this story? It was that insane obsession with the unknown... that sharp, hidden thrill in my grandmother's tales of ghouls and sirens. I used to wonder: What do these creatures look like? And why did folklore choose the image of a female for them?

Then I grew older and started going to the cinema. I watched Lon Chaney—the man of a thousand faces—and Vincent Price playing the role of the mysterious blood-drinking Count.

How fascinated I was by the character of Dracula! How it puzzled me... and how it terrified me!

And today... here I am, on the brink of uncovering the truth behind this nightmare. Believe it or not, the mummy of this Count lies in the basement of the very house I'm in now! And the time of its awakening is in just three days! What would my childhood friends in Mansoura say if they knew what I'm involved in now?

Now everything is ready... the bucket of pig's blood... the preserved bat... and the company of two irritable scientists who care for nothing but science, no matter how dire its consequences...

I turned on the bedside lamp and found a stack of books next to the bed. On top was Bram Stoker's famous novel, Dracula. Dr. Richard must have deliberately placed it there to keep me immersed in the "mood."

I chuckled to myself, then opened the novel and was swept away by its events. What terrifying, brilliant, and sick imagination! How I admired its author.

I had reached the part where the Count enters the room of the unsuspecting solicitor, Jonathan Harker, while he is shaving his beard. Here, the solicitor thinks: How come I didn't see this man in the shaving mirror? And the Count's eyes fixate on a cut on the solicitor's neck caused by the shaving... and...

I was at this part when there was a knock at the door. I startled, then returned to the real world, got up, and opened the door. It was Dr. Richard.

"Have you slept?"

"Clearly, I haven't."

He glanced at the novel on the bed and laughed:

"So, you're preparing for our guest?"

"Our guest?" I said irritably:

"What a novel!"

"And what have you learned from it?"

"I've learned not to shave my beard in front of Dracula, lest I cut myself, and then..."

"And what else?"

"I've learned not to trust people who don't cast reflections in mirrors!"

Dr. Richard burst out laughing... He was wearing a robe with a shirt and tie underneath, looking as elegant and handsome as ever. Then he lit a cigarette—without offering me one, as usual—and glanced around the room.

"Why don't you place some Quranic verses here and there?"

I pointed to the nightstand next to the bed, where a small Quran, given to me by my late mother before my first trip abroad, lay.

"Here it is... but for reading, not for protection from your vampire."

He nodded in agreement, then rose heavily and headed for the door, passing by the ornate mirror hanging on the wall... No... I must be nervous... Is the mirror not polished, or is the lighting insufficient? Or is it that this man truly doesn't cast a reflection in the mirror?!

He turned to me with concern and asked:

"Why do you look so terrified?"

"Should I tell him?... No... no..."

"It's nothing... just the effect of your novel, nothing more."

He thought for a moment, then said:

"Rifaat ... there's something important..."

"What is it?"

"Something I want to do, and I don't want Dr. Lovarsky to know about it. Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Then follow me to the basement in ten minutes."

He tossed his cigarette and left with his usual calm.

As soon as he left, I closed the door and rushed to the mirror... My reflection was clear, but... how tricky light can be... A perfect angle of refraction can turn water into a mirror, so why couldn't the mirror, at some angle and under some lighting, become a non-reflective surface?

And even if the mirror didn't reflect his image... what would that mean? I don't believe in ghosts... and even if we apply the logic of superstition, there's no necessity for this visit, and it didn't lead to anything...

Why does Dr. Cummings want me in the basement? Certainly not to play cards or look at his stamp collection.

And certainly not to suck my blood, because I don't believe in all this nonsense...

What does he want from Dracula's mummy? What is it that he doesn't want Dr. Lovarsky to know?

In any case, the ten minutes passed...

I put on my robe and left the room, heading to the basement... The darkness of the hallway and the remnants of dinner on the table, which Mrs. Cummings hadn't cleared yet.

The door to Dr. Richard's room opened slowly.

"Dr. Rifaat?"

"Yes..."

I noticed he was speaking loudly, so I lowered my voice to a whisper:

"And now, let's go."

"Go where?"

"The basement..."

"The base... Are you in your right mind?!"

What's happening? What is this madman talking about? But his face was serious, with no trace of humor... My words hit a cold, solid barrier and shattered at my feet.

"Didn't you ask me to do this?"

"Wait a minute... I asked you what?"

"To go to the basement."

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago, in my room!"

I think it's necessary to cut short this conversation, the gist of which I've already grasped. He knows, insists, and swears he never came to my room, and I'm absolutely certain he was there for reasons only God knows. A tedious conversation, like a dialogue between the deaf, ending with each of us convinced the other is either lying or insane.

"Do you know, Dr. Rifaat?"

He said it mysteriously, narrowing his eyes and continuing:

"It seems we're both right!"

"How..."

"It's clear... Someone tried to lure you to the basement... That's why they visited you in my form."

"Are we going back to this nonsense...?"

"Tell me... Didn't you notice anything unusual about this visitor...?"

I thought for a moment, then said carelessly:

"Nothing, except that... he didn't leave a reflection in the mirror!"