Ancient Darkness

by D. A. Alexander

  I could have been angry, but there was no point. My captors had the advantage over me in this regard. They had scouted a place to imprison me, and their choice was a wise one. I gripped the cool bars in my hands and pressed my forehead against them. The cooler temperature was soothing against my skin, and I closed my eyes as the sun hid behind the clouds.

  "You will not find an escape, young man," a Romanian accent filled my ears, startling me by its sudden presence.

  I turned to look at the direction in which it had come and I saw him there for the first time with open eyes. He was dressed very similarly to me, though his clothes were in better condition. His dark jeans and gray t-shirt fit his body like they were designed just for him. His pale flesh was striking, but not as much as the silver shimmering of his eyes. I knew immediately that he was not human, and quite honestly that my life was over.

  "Who are you?" I dared to ask, brazen with fear more than curiosity.

  He lifted his chin slightly at the question, but he did not answer. Instead, he revealed an open hand to me. Held flat as if he was holding an invisible gift, he kept his hand raised, urging me to come closer and claim its contents.

  Without thinking about it I moved closer to him. My steps were slow and short, but my vision closed around him, the only thing in the room that held my attention. Beams of light seemed to radiate around him and he smiled, exposing the fangs that more than once had entered my flesh.

  I was standing directly in front of him now and could see with much certainty that his hand was empty. I was lured to him by emptiness, it was an intriguing thought as I placed my hand into his own and reality fell away.

  I was hesitant to step towards the old building, not for fear of it caving in on me, but afraid of what I might find. What if the truth was something that I could not handle, or what if there was nothing there at all? The prospect of either outcome stilled me; I could hear Maggie rustling behind me, toeing at the gravel under her boots. There was no mistaking that this place held a moment in my past, to what extent I did not yet know, but I was sure that I had been here before.

  "Would you like me to go in?" Maggie asked, resting her cold hand on my shoulder reassuringly.

  "No," I said flatly, pushing aside my nervousness and taking the first step towards discovery. It was a shallow step; the rotting boards above the cinder block foundations creaked and buckled under my weight. The doors were just as welcoming, brittle with the burden of time. I shoved one of the aside and the metal hinges, rusted and nearly torn removed the wooden sentry from its post and collapsed against the water stained vestibule. The stained glass glowed with the moonlight and pushed its purple and blue hues onto the dusty floor.

  I stepped in cautiously, not wanting to disturb the scene, but needing to, the mysteries here needed to be sifted through and analyzed.

  The dust scattered beneath my feet and wafted up to my eye level, looking like snow hanging aloft by the wind. My preternatural sight allowed me to see the details of the large room; the broken altar to the back, near the collapsed corner which was half supported by some pews standing on end. The windows of the church were crusted over with some kind of paper, the yellowing, and hardening of some antiquity. I approached the altar of God; its fractured frame was a sad reminder of my own faith.

  I took in the details of the room; there was no serenity, only the longing to no longer be abandoned. My dead heart ached; this was where I had spent my final breath. I looked about and could see the evidence of rat nests and the mangled remains of cloth. It was just a hint of a smell, covered by the strong aroma of ammonia which must have been the urine of the nester, but I could detect it nonetheless.

  The small of dried blood.

  It was faint, but it was there. I moved towards the source of the smell and found it in the form of a torn shirt that had been the hand-me-down home to countless rats and other vermin. I did not want to touch it, to disturb it, but moved my hand towards it anyway. I lifted the clump of fabric up and it was an almost completely solid structure, housing the feces of its inhabitance. It was disgusting, but it also answered the burning question. Was this where I had died?

  Based on the familiar print that I could see emblazoned on the fabric, the answer was undeniably yes.

  "What did you find?" Maggie asked as she walked into the worn doorway, moonlit from behind, the kiss of dim stars raining their love onto her shoulders.

  "My death," I said turning to face her, the shreds of shirt held in my hand.

  "So, this was where you were changed."

  "Without question," I answered and tossed the mess back onto the floor, the scurry of rats under the floorboards rustled in the leaves blown below by the southern winds. "Now the only question left is, what happened next?"

  Chapter 15

  Enamored by the ecstasy that was coursing through my veins I closed my eyes. This was the second time that I fully understood the sensation associated with this monstrous kiss. There was a certain amount of sensual nature that had absolutely nothing to do with sex. It was not something that I could easily comprehend, much less explain. There is no other feeling in this world that comes close, it is like being touched by God himself, only the release is much darker, much lonelier than you might expect.

  "The transfusion will begin now, my child." His thick accent was more obscure through the rush of his voice after pulling his fangs from my neck. This caused a longing that was only reminiscent of pain; the real thing would come much later as my body ravaged itself in an attempt to flush the fluid from me, much like the pains associated with a high fever.

  I looked into his eyes, only inches away. The irises were so pale that I could barely see any color, the pupils were nothing more than pinpricks in the light that fell through the hole sin the windows and roof. Another flicker of silver flashed as the light bounced off his cornea and shined in my own eyes. I flinched, though I did not experience discomfort in the act.

  He tore a sliver of flesh from his own neck and the thin blood seeped out of the wound. He drew me into himself and urged me to drink of his blood. I couldn't tell how the relationship coincided, but it did somehow if only I could slow my mind down enough to think about what was going on. There was no stopping myself as I drank the blood, more willingly than a dog lapping at the water after it was left thirsty for several days. I was powerless; I was not under my own control. I only followed the will of my master.

  I struggled despite myself, fighting the constraints that my mind put on this situation. Again, it was useless. I found refuge in the blood, the warmth of it drenching my mouth and throat. I lapped it up with my tongue and fell into sweet abandon. I drifted away from the earth in those moments. The darkness encapsulated me into its arms. The warmest welcome to the end of my first life, though it turned to ice as the first pang of transference took place in my body. It was like swallowing and vomiting at the same time. The sting of bile met with the satiation of blood. I was in purgatory, caught between heaven and hell. Caught in the arms of a monster and I did not want him to let go.

  Maggie examined the same area that I had already searched, fondling for clues as to what transpired after my change. We came up short and were ready to call it yet another loss in our journey of discovery. That was until she stepped on a loose floorboard and her weight caused it to teeter like a see-saw momentarily. The nails had been physically removed from the board by a tool of some sort, most likely a hammer, but the holes left from the nails were jagged like the nails might have been dug out by some other blunt instrument. I grabbed the board and easily pulled it away, exposing the dirt and grime underneath the church.

  But it also exposed something else.

  Maggie reached into the darkness and grabbed the semi-reflective object from beneath and pulled it up to her eye level. “What is it?” I asked, hovering over her like a child trying to see the secret gift being wrapped by his parents.

  “I’m not sure, it’s some kind of box, but I can’t seem to open it,” she said still
fidgeting with the device.

  “Let me see it,” I said as I extended my hand out to her. She handed it over and I felt the solid construct that weighed every bit of a pound and not an ounce more. It contained something, but I couldn’t be sure what it was, not without first opening it. I pried at the seam, trying to force it open to no avail. Finally, in frustration, I did what anyone would do… I slammed it against the ground with all my strength.

  Bingo, that did the trick.

  The hinge of the box separated from the lid and exposed a small, white Gideon’s Bible. The fragile pages were stained from the damp underlinings of the church that was left exposed to the elements for over ten decades. I looked up from where I was standing and could see the missing section of ceiling where rainwater and collapsed that section, causing the grime and filth upon which we were currently standing. It wasn’t just dust, it was the grit of roofing tiles and sheet rock that had exploded from its fall and was pilfered through by vermin.

  I thumbed through the delicate pages, seeing the titles of each book in the Gospels and the rest of the New Testament written in bold letters at the top of each page. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John contained red letters, presumably spoken by Jesus himself, though the quotations did not always match up perfectly, the meaning was still there. I remembered the first time I had ever held one of these small bibles. It had been a revival in a small Pentecostal church that I attended with my grandmother. It had been a frightful evening service with the prophecies of fire and brimstone etched into my young mind. I feared God’s wrath of judgment, it was a fear and not a love that eventually drove me from attending the church with her anymore, but in that fear, the question had been asked.

  “Who here wants to hold the truth of salvation in their hands?” the preacher heralded without the use of a microphone. Without understanding the rhetorical essence of his question, I nervously raised my hand. Caught off guard by my gesture he laughed heartily and said, “Praise, Jesus. This young man wants to know the Lord! Can I get an amen?” with that the preacher reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a small Bible, much like the one in my hand. The gift was met with a wink and a clamor of applauds from the elders in the church.

  I realized too late that I had brought this attention to myself, it was unwarranted, I did not want their applause. I shook my head in thanks, but inside I was upset, embarrassed by the exchange. I retreated deeper from my surroundings and slouched in the pew as the thundering music and whooping of the crowd built up around me. I did not understand the noise of their worship and I wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, I thumbed through that small book and found a line that said, ‘name’. I pulled a pencil from behind the pew in front of me which was left for writing on the offering envelopes and I scrawled my name on my white flyleaf of my new Bible.

  Back in the present, I thumbed to that same page without thinking, curiosity burning deep inside of me. I had to squint to read the faded lettering of an eleven-year-old boy, the penmanship was lazy and the lead was all but completely gone, but I could follow the imprint where the pencil had scrapped the letters into place. I could not believe my eyes, I held in my hand the original artifact that had driven me further away from God. The thing that I associated with embarrassment, and misguided scorn. This was the bible handed to me by the man of hellfire and brimstone.

  Chapter 16

  Blood masked the beautiful refrain, her song as luscious as it was, still could not hold my attention more than a few moments. I could smell the iron enriched liquid pooled in the crevices of her teeth, a small splatter caught her chin, though a faded smear appeared where she had tried to wipe it away. Her fingernails matched the deep red hue of her victim’s blood. It was mine after all.

  A sway befell the room as I laid at rest by the altar. It was the lack of blood from which I had grown accustomed to that played these mind games with me. I was not falling, despite what my senses were telling me. The only proof to that was the cool wood beneath my flesh, my bare arms came in contact with the gritty surface and pulled back away with the dark grime of years old filth.

  She pulled away from me before taking my life. This was a familiar sensation, I had been here perhaps a hundred times or more. I already knew the playbook by heart. She would leave and allow the other one to come and allow me to feed upon his own blood, creating the connection between us that allowed him to keep track of me. It was like some kind of supernatural GPS, effective in its way of allowing the prey to never be far from reach.

  The female vampire stood awkwardly and hovered over me for a moment, almost considering taking the last pint or two of my lifeblood. I craved the end of my beating heart, though I was powerless to control its fate. I stared into her eyes, slightly dilated in the pale lighting. The silvery reflection that accompanied her gaze did not make me flinch, instead, I was captivated by it. What would I see through her eyes? Did life reveal itself in colors? Did darkness appear lighter to them than it did to me? There was a comfort in knowing that fear of the dark could be conquered with their preternatural vision if that were true…

  I doubted I would ever see the way they saw. She was nothing more than a predator in my cage, but were we really that much different? If I could prey on the weak to survive, wouldn’t I? She turned around, barely paying me any attention and I felt each step of her gently padded feet strike the floor beneath me until she was no more. I did not see her leave, but I felt her disappear from my presence. I continued to stare up at the ceiling until darkness swept my sight away until the morning sun shone from the horizon to the east.

  With this token of the past in my hands, I could not resist searching the pages for some clue as to why it found itself at this spot, a place almost twenty years after I had set it aside never to touch it again. I folded back each page, examining it in the pale light, but it was enough to read the pages, or at least skim them. I moved through each chapter, and page, and book before discovering a highlighted section. I had almost missed it due to the yellowing of the page compared to the yellow highlighter that had been used, but there it was in John Chapter 19: “…but coming to Jesus, when they saw that He was already dead, they did not break His legs. But one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out. And he who has seen has testified, and his testimony is true; and he knows that he is telling the truth, so that you also may believe.…”

  I had no memory of manipulating this section of the bible. I could only vaguely remember the story being about a prophecy that Christ must fulfill in order to really be the Messiah. I had never given it much thought due to what I considered vague attributes that could easily be formed into something more coherent with the passage of time.

  Despite my doubts, I supposed that there could be some truths that poured from those pages, but I was not privileged enough to ascertain the truth or fiction, whichever it was.

  Maggie stood next to me and looked at the same passage with curious eyes. “What is the significance of this?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, still puzzled by the find and the intent of the one who left it for me to find. “But, I’m certain that there is some kind of clue hidden in these words. We just need to find it.”

  Chapter 17

  “My father of condemnation, I come to you for penance for the sins of my lifetime have come full circle. I have paid dearly for them, as eternity flies past me. I once sowed the wind with my actions, but now I am caught in a whirlwind that I now reap. It is far too much to bear at this time. Please release me. If you can hear this, then please answer my prayer,” the hushed tones of his voice drove me from my daze. Slept had not met my eyes for the entire night. I was all but comatose from my lack of blood, but this small voice had caught my attention.

  I strained my eyes to see the silhouette of a man, but I knew he was not human. His dark appearance was outlined against the shimmer of sunlight that peeked through the broken glass of the window from which I had tried to escape.

  “Do you t
hink it strange that the damned pray, human,” he spoke to me catching me off guard. I was too afraid to answer. “Even the forsaken need hope. The longing of eternity to release me from my curse is the only reason I have already killed you. I am famished, and I know what little you have to offer because of the woman.”

  I was struck by his words, almost as if he were not in control of the overall situation. I was confused, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know the details.

  He stood up from his kneeling position below the faded outline of where a cross had once hung along the wall. If you strained you could even see the faded paint where a cloth had draped over the crossbars of the crucifix and had dangled for several decades. The new vampire turned to face me and I could see his white face unmarred by time hid behind locks of dark hair. He was dressed in a suit, similar to the kind you see actors wear to red carpet events. They held nothing to this man in terms of appearance. He could be the first man in which God had crafted in His own image. That kind of bodily perfect was not typically seen, ever.

  “I once saw Christ, much in the way that I see you now. Do you believe me?”

  I wanted too.

  “It was hundreds of lifetimes ago, in a region that tasted war more regularly than it did peace. It was a time to end all time, but the dark one played his unrighteous hand. I witnessed everything that day, as the earth quaked and the sky grew dark. I knew God had died that day. I felt my own death as the spear pierced His side. There was no blood to pour from his would, only water seeped from the would that confirmed his death.”