I awaken, as always, in the dimly lit room that smells of dirt and decay. The smells fill my sensitive nostrils with their sweet sickly scent as I take in a deep breath and open my eyes to see the familiar frame of the wooden box in which I slumber.
Above me, the domed stone ceiling of the deepest of chambers in the ancient castle I have called my home for centuries. I can hear the little creatures scurrying and crawling their way around the walls and the howling of the wolves outside, just beginning their nightly hunt.
I feel the eternal hunger within not only my stomach, but also throughout my entire body as my veins cry out for sustenance. It is time I, like my brethren the creatures of the night, begin my nightly hunt.
I dreamt of the sweet innocent beauty I saw last in the small village on the edge of my wood. I dreamt of her soft, porcelain skin of her neck and of sinking my razor sharp teeth into it.
Smiling with the thought of the pleasure to come, I rise out of the ornate coffin to go out into the night, for I, am Dracula.