Dawn Berkoski

The sky darkened as I left the crypt in the Church on the Hill and headed towards the cemetery across the way.

To the right of the entrance, the Ropemaker’s Tower stood like a sentry, its conical-shaped roof a splash of red against the graying clouds. One of the few guild towers remaining in the historic town of Sighisoara, it has an interesting history, but I was too preoccupied by the sign hanging on the iron gates.

“Beware of Dogs.”

I thought that’s what the sign said, judging by the snarling bulldog that was probably supposed to look scary, but looked cute to me. I walked past, cautiously slipping between the gates onto the narrow footpath which lead to a blocked off road.

The older the cemetery, the richer its appeal. Each stone is a story, a history lesson, a mystery. The way this cemetery sloped down the hill, as if the graves could slide away if not embraced by twisting vines and layers of moss, was irresistible. It’s on the UNESCO World Heritage List and is divided into four parts. I started in the Saxon section, which was dense with overgrowth and vibrant green plants. I was about to head into the Heroes section, dedicated to local soldiers, when a strange noise stopped me dead in my tracks.

Alone, in the cemetery, the hair on my arms rose on end. It sounded like an animal but… that was no dog. Video here.

Lost in a maze of graves, the reality of my situation sunk in. I was all alone in a Transylvanian graveyard. Slowly, I retraced my steps. The noise seemed to be coming from above me as I climbed an uneven path back towards the entrance.

Just keep going, I thought. Don’t stop. But then a hairy, black beast dashed along the side of the cliff, vanishing behind a tombstone. My heart pounded in my chest; I instantly froze.

Like on Snagov Island, the supposed resting place of Vlad the Impaler, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. It wasn’t a dog, or a bear cub, which I feared, since I was in the Carpathian Mountains. It was a goat. Multiple goats.

And that’s when I started to wonder if a vampire was messing with me. Why did I keep seeing animals in strange places? What was the connection? Did vampires love animals? Did they know I loved them too?

I watched the goats play for awhile, my fears vanishing like the setting sun. I had to go. I wouldn’t press my luck and stay past dark, I still had to climb down the Student’s Stairs.

This was the town where Vlad Tepes was born, the man who inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula, or so the rumors went. Anything could happen in Sighisoara, as the goats in the Cemetery on the Hill could attest.

Dawn B~