Sleepless Nights

by Pierre C. Arseneault

  “Don’t they? I didn’t realize that priests studied vampirism.” Victor smiled. “I know it’s hard to believe. Especially since what I am telling you is not what popular fiction has ingrained in your mind. Vampires are not immortal gods. The disease does slow down aging but it doesn’t mean you get to live forever. And you’re not immune to all the problems that plague the normal man either. Yes. Yes I have arthritis. I wish I didn’t.”

  “But you have no fangs,” said the ex-priest. “Vampires have fangs. How else would they drink blood? And I’ve seen you up during the day.” Richard waved a finger at Victor pointing. “You have a crucifix under your shirt for Christ’s sake! Do you really believe that you’re a vampire?” asked Richard.

  “I know it’s hard to imagine since men have made vampires out to be evil monsters. We’re infected people and that’s all. Yes, I have a rosary and I pray for forgiveness everyday for the things I have to do to survive.” Victor sat forward on the edge of his chair and looked Richard in the eyes as he spoke. “I don’t know how it happens, but the fangs come out just enough when I feed. The teeth don’t grow but the gums push them out. Daylight doesn’t kill vampires. But our flesh is dying and the ultraviolet rays speed that up. That’s why most of us shun the light as much as we can.”

  Richard suddenly felt like he would be sick. His head spun and his stomach churned. Panic arose in him as he could see in Victor’s eyes that he truly believed what he was saying.

  “I’m dying, Father Richard. Maybe not as fast as some of the residents in here but my body is shutting down.” Victor spoke with conviction. “My body is rejecting the blood and I can’t feed like I need to. My body is dying.”

  Richard leaned forward and rested his hand on Victor’s and spoke with sincerity. “Vampires don’t die, Victor. You’re not a vampire. Would you like me to talk to someone for you?”

  Victor pulled his hand away from Richard and sat back in his chair. “You asked me the same thing thirty-seven years ago when I told you then. I’m not crazy, Father. You see, vampires’ age and they die. Most can only get the disease at a young age when the body is stronger. Otherwise it can’t survive. And young vampires need to feed more often and it becomes like a lust.” Victor hung his head, looking at his feet as he continued. “I was young once. And like most young, you feed too much and innocent people die because of your need to feed. But as you get older, your body begins to breakdown and you don’t need to feed as much. That’s what allowed me to find God again. Beg his forgiveness for what I had done.” Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his rosary and ran the light brown beads through his fingers. “When I aged and my lust subsided, I made a vow never to kill again.” Looking up at Richard’s expressionless face, he continued speaking. “I began looking for ways to feed without killing. That’s when I met Luanne. She was a nurse at the Boston General Hospital. She was one of the many nurses who took care of the comatose patience. Finally I had found a way where I could feed without killing. Not long after I began volunteering to sit with terminally ill patients which gave me access to what I needed. I’ve never killed since. Not until Darcy came along anyway.”

  Richard started to rise from his chair but stumbled back into it. The room spun around him and he could no longer feel his legs. He tried to speak, but an incomprehensible slur was all that Victor heard. His glasses slipping off his face almost falling to the floor before Victor caught them in one swift motion.

  “I put one of Florence’s sleeping pills in your tea. I’m sorry but I need to do this so you believe me. You’re going to have a bad dream and when you wake up, you will feel incredibly hungry. You might even feel better than normal. I never understood why, but in the elderly it has a bit of a rejuvenating effect.”

  Richard began to stand again and this time, Victor helped him get up. He stumbled forward slightly as he felt Victor’s strong grasp hold him up. “Let’s get you to bed, Father,” said Victor as he helped the ex-priest to his bed.

  Richard would not remember lying down in his bed. Sleep came before his head was firmly rested on his pillow.

  27

  The smell of all the old wood washed over him as he saw that all the pews were filled to capacity. On the pulpit before him rested his sermon, written in Latin just like he used to do. Raising his hands before him, the robed Father Richard spoke. His voice was muffled, inaudible even to his own ears. Looking down where his sermon had lain now sat a book.

  The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.

  His arms still up with his palms towards the sky he paused in mid-muffled sentence. Looking up from the pulpit only to see the pews now completely empty and void of life. He lowered his arms slowly. The book on the pulpit was also gone. As the room began to spin, the priest tugged at his collar as beads of perspiration appeared on his brow. He turned to see a dark silhouette of a man standing in an otherwise brightly lit church. The dark man took a step closer just as the room grew dark before Richard’s very eyes.

  28

  “Dear God!” uttered Richard as he woke in a panic. He shot up into a sitting position; groggy from awakening in such a hurry. A slight burning sensation in his left arm soon had him pulling up the sleeve of his pyjamas. On the inside of his left arm he found two small puncture marks. Richard rubbed his eyes as he realized that they were in perfect focus even though his glasses sat on his nightstand. Not having been able to see without his glasses in over twenty years, he sat in wonderment staring at the tiny marks on his arm. That’s when the hunger pangs made him look at the clock on his wall; he still had an hour to wait until breakfast.

  “Pancakes!” Richard said aloud as he found himself with a sudden craving for pancakes. With syrup made right in Carlton. And he wanted them now.

  29

  Richard sat before a slew of empty plates, completely stuffed, having eaten twice what he normally ate for breakfast. Leaning back in his chair, and suppressing a burp to be polite, he noticed Victor approaching him.

  Victor spoke as he set down his tray containing his oatmeal and tea. “I noticed you forgot to put on your glasses this morning, Father.”

  Richard’s hand immediately felt for them on his face as he smiled. “Yes. Yes I did. I’m so used to needing them that I can still feel them on my face, even though I am not wearing them.”

  Victor sat down. “Don’t get too used to it. You’ll need them again by later today, tonight at the latest.”

  Richard leaned forward, clasping his hands together before him and resting his arms on the table as he spoke softly. “I had a dream last night, a horrible yet peaceful dream. A man came to me. I couldn’t see who he was. But I know it was you.”

  Victor ran his spoon through his oatmeal as he spoke. “I can’t explain the dreams. I’ve been living with this a very long time and have learned a lot but I don’t know what causes the dreams.” He took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. Swallowing, he continued speaking. “I think it might be the same thing that rejuvenated you. I’m not sure.”

  He paused and set his spoon down. Dazed, he stared blankly into his bowl before him. “I too have dreams. Every single night I dream of the day I was cursed with this wretched disease. I was a young man walking the streets of London when he fell upon me.”

  “I don’t understand how you’ve never gotten caught. Nobody has ever told anyone what you did to them. How can that be?” asked Richard.

  In a hushed tone, Victor replied. “It wasn’t always like it is now. But that’s why I now have to feed on those who are not well anymore. They don’t understand what has happened.” Making eye contact with Richard, he continued. “Really, I give them good days in return. Tell me you don’t feel good right this minute. Tell me your aches and pains are almost non-existent right now.”

  “I do feel remarkably good, physically that is. But emotionally, spiritually, I can’t say the same.” Richard paused as if in deep thought and as
ked. “Will I turn into one now? Will I become a vampire too?”

  “No,” replied Victor without hesitation.

  “How do you know that?” asked Richard.

  Victor watched Richard’s expression as he spoke. “Because I didn’t take enough blood from you. I don’t know how it works but I need to take a lot of blood for the person to change. I haven’t had to feed that much in a long time you know.” Victor smiled slightly and sighed as he saw a look that he believed to be disappointment on the ex-priest’s face. “I’m really very old. And tired; very tired.” Victor sipped his tea and waited for a caregiver to walk past them with her resident so they would not hear him continue. “Besides, some are immune. And you would have turned thirty-seven years ago when I fed on you then. I know because I tried to turn you then.” Victor watched as Richard’s face grew long and pale. “I thought you would die from your injuries otherwise. I think I helped save your life. The internal bleeding wasn’t as bad because of me.”

  “Immune?” was all that Richard could ask in the shock of what he had just been told.

  “When I saw you here for the first time, I recognized you,” said Victor. “And so I took it as a sign from God. But I don’t know what He is trying to tell me and I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

  Richard got up from his chair and pushed it slowly back under the table. He stood behind it for a moment in silence before speaking. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re a sign from God to me.” Richard inserted his hands in the pockets of his housecoat as he walked off. He paused and glanced back at Victor who sat in stunned silence as he pondered the ex-priest’s words.

  30

  The door of the staffroom burst open as Peggy ran in. “There you are!” she exclaimed when she saw Jenna and Maureen as they were getting ready to go home.

  “What are you so excited about?” asked Jenna with a huge smile. “Got some juicy gossip, don’t you?”

  “You’ll never guess,” said Peggy.

  “What? What is it?” replied Maureen.

  Peggy was smiling as she wiped away a tear. “Richard. I just saw him go into the chapel.”

  Maureen smiled at the thought and then the smile vanished as fast as it had appeared. “I wonder what brought this on? I hope he’s ok.”

  31

  Entering the empty chapel, the first impression the ex-priest had was how much it reminded him of the very first church he celebrated mass in. On a smaller scale, a mere quarter of his church, it had the same wood moulding to everything he could see. There were fewer pews than he though it should but he knew this was to leave room for wheelchairs. The smell of the lemon-scented cleaner was strong, almost overpowering the smell of the wood varnish itself. Paintings on the walls made to imitate stain glass windows. Unlike all the churches he had been in, this one had cream coloured leather padding on the pews. And for this reason, he found them remarkably comfortable on his old stiff, arthritis-riddled body as he sat down. He felt at ease in the chapel, even though he was sitting in a pew and not standing at the pulpit.

  “I don’t know if you’re real anymore. I haven’t in quite some time now,” said Richard as he looked up at the ceiling. “But I do feel that maybe you’ve sent Victor to me to test my faith. If you are real that is. And a part of me wants to believe what he tells me. But a part of me doubts it can be real.” Richard pulled the blue rosary from the pocket of his robe. Holding it in his left hand, he slowly ran the beads through the fingers of his right. “Just like I doubt you are too. But right now I feel maybe you are real. And sending Victor to me is your way of reminding me that you are.”

  Richard slid himself out of the pew and onto his knees. A few loud popping sounds came from his joints as he knelt, grasping the wood of the back of the pew before him, steadying himself. Once in the kneeling position and with his rosary intertwined in-between his fingers, Richard leaned his head forward as he had done a million times before. Only today, those words that he had said throughout his life escaped him. Try as he might, he could not recall the Lord’s prayer.

  He whispered “I’m lost. I’ve lost my way. Please help me find my way back.”

  Richard scrambled backwards as he slid himself back into the pew before trying to rise to his feet. Struggling on what were now numb legs only to fall back into the pew. Twice. He did succeed at the third attempt at getting to his feet and with blue rosary in hand he walked to the door before stopping in his tracks. With a look towards the large crucifix at the far end, he spoke.

  “Maybe I’ll come back and see you tomorrow.”

  Reaching out with an age-spotted hand; he pushed open the wooden door. Exiting the chapel he saw Peggy turn away quickly, as if she had been waiting for him to exit the chapel. Which is exactly what she had been doing and he knew it. As he watched her round a bend and disappear into a room, he tried to place the blue rosary into his robe pocket. Hearing the clatter of the rosary hit the floor; he stumbled and looked down to see that his arm had barely moved. Looking at his hand he couldn’t understand why but it felt as if it tingled all over. Like a million tiny needles prickling all over his hand and running up his arm. The rosary was on the floor before him and when he tried to step forward, his leg refused to cooperate as it stayed in the same place. His body lurched forward as he lost his balance and fell forward. His sight became blurred before he hit the floor. His mouth opened in an attempt to cry out but nothing came out but gargled incoherent sounds. The last thing he saw he was white stocking covered legs in small white sneakers running towards him. Hearing garbled shouts around him. Lying on the floor, Richard felt numbness envelope his senses as everything grew dark around him.

  32

  One week later, the staff room was empty of all the incoming staff. Empty, except two of the tired outgoing souls from the graveyard shift.

  “Do you think God was punishing him?” asked Maureen as she sat changing her shoes.

  “Don’t be silly,” replied Jenna as she slipped on her jacket followed by her scarf. “Although, you have to admit the coincidence is a little unnerving to say the least.”

  Maureen stood up from the chair she sat in and pulled her jacket from her locker. Slipping it on as she spoke. “Dr. Williams told me Richard will be back later today.”

  Jenna closed her locker. “How is he?”

  “Well after five days, he recovered some mobility but he is wheelchair bound now. Not strong enough to walk on his own.” Maureen buttoned her coat and slipped her purse on her shoulder. “Only thing is Dr. Williams said his mind is starting to go. He says the stroke is the cause.” She paused, inserting her hand in her pocket as she fingered her keys thinking of home. “For the last few days he thought he was back at Boston General Hospital forty or so years ago. Apparently he had been in the hospital after being hit by a truck.”

  Jenna and Maureen gave each other knowing looks as they exited the staffroom, neither of them saying anything. Not wanting any of the residents to overhear them as they made their way out to the parking lot. Jenna took a deep breath, smelling the crisp fall air as she walked to her car. Maureen, with her hand in her pocket, pressed the remote, listening as her car started up.

  “Dr. Williams said Richard can barely speak now. But the interesting part is that he thinks he’s still a priest.” She smiled slightly as she continued. “Now he wants to be called Father Richard and gets upset if you don’t.”

  Jenna pressed her remote, unlocking her car door. She opened it and stepped behind the door as she spoke. “That’s quite ironic.”

  “Yes. Yes it is,” said Maureen as she turned and walked towards her car. “See you on Facebook!” she exclaimed.

  33

  Standing in the doorway, Victor watched as Richard lay in his new hospital bed with the side rails up as he snored gently. He couldn’t help but notice the ex-priest looked to have aged twenty years in the last week. His thin white hair looked even th
inner now, dishevelled. The lines on his face seemed deeper. Much deeper than before and this scared him. He had never realized what a lonely existence he had until Richard came along. It had been a very long time since he had been able to speak openly with anyone. Talking with the former priest had helped him appease the guilt he felt about feeding on the feeble residents of Sleepy Meadows. Victor slowly walked in and stood next to the bed, watching his friend for a moment before speaking.

  “Richard?” he said softly. “Richard?”

  Slowly Richard stirred as he opened his eyes. His speech slightly muffled he spoke. “Patrick? Is that you? Have you come to chat again?”

  Victor’s felt his hope sink as he heard the words spoken by Richard. At that moment he heard footsteps nearing the door behind him as caregiver Amanda entered the room.

  “Did he just call you Patrick?” asked Amanda.

  Victor sighed. “Yes. He’s confused and doesn’t remember me.”

  “How are you, Richard?” asked Amanda as she stood next to the bed.

  “Father Richard. Please call me Father Richard. I can’t wait until I can leave this hospital and get back to my parish.”

  “You need rest, Father Richard. Would you like me to bring you something to drink? Are you hungry, Father?” Amanda smiled gently.

  “Tea. Tea would be nice. Thank you,” said Richard.

  Amanda walked past Victor on her way out. “I’ll be right back with some tea. I’ll see if he needs to use the bathroom or something in a minute.”

  Victor replied only by smiling slightly, trying not to show the sudden sharp pain in his side. After Amanda had left the room, Victor spoke. “I’ll let you get some rest and come back to check on you later, Father Richard.”

  Victor turned and walked towards the door as he heard Richard reply “Thank you, Patrick. You’re a kind man. We will continue our talk later then. And your secret is safe with me,” said Richard.

  Upon hearing this, Victor paused in his tracks for a moment before walking out.