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Nickolaus A. Pacione

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Books by Nickolaus A. Pacione
Bloodletting
By Nickolaus A. Pacione
Posted: Wednesday, June 05, 2002
Last edited: Tuesday, November 27, 2007
This short story was "not rated" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Nickolaus A. Pacione
· The Cabbie Homicide: Oct 13, 1993
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           >> View all 73
writing as Theo Wolfe:

October 21, 1994:

It had been since I found myself in a mental health unit. The thing I had seen would not be written in the eyes of a pastor from a small Iowa town -- though I am not a pastor, and one who had studied books about occultism and articles about black magick; what I am about to pen are the observations I made during my hospital stay. The rest of the patients in the ward appeared to have a paste white tone to their skin, the way one would look after their blood had been totally drained. The doctors one the floor knew nothing of what was going on, but deep down I had known.
      The observation which I write is that of denial. Denial -- denial of the fact that there would be a vampire on the floor among the staff and the patients in the mental health unit. It could be someone that had been committed or one of the staff, but I could not really say for sure. According to the vampyre myths, they can be killed one of three ways; a wooden stake thru the heart, decapitated by a sword or any sharp object, or dragged into the bright sunlight at the break of dawn. They are able to be injured by blessed objects, namely crucifixes and holy water. That is what they are only myths, vampires cannot be injured by holy object because they were created by the church centuries ago. They knew nothing of what had been happening, but they found two horrific discoveries -- one of them was of a man that had a pair of small holes impaled into his left arm. The bite marks appeared like a venomous snakebite, but the way the individual responded to the bite is that his flesh was all bloated and pus blisters began to surface. He began to convulse quite violently before he went into a coma.
      Apparently, in the next room a man that was 5 feet tall and 8 inches carrying the weight of 180 was violently ripped apart. The thing that did it had claws that were sharp as a wolverine and the strength of two grizzly bears. The victim looked about the age of 21, the doctors refused to give out his name -- but they said he was a Des Moines native. The creature started at the head and then ripped each limp apart, arms legs and ripped the body in half. The only body part that was not damaged was his dick and scrotum sack -- but the police were not able to reconize the poor motherf***. The first person to discover the horrid image was a young nurse, fresh our of college. Her skin was flushed, and was going into shock. The doctors when in there and carried her out on a stretcher -- she wrapped up in blankets like a mummy because her flesh was cold to the touch.
      Her name was Shana McHerold, she had just finished her nurse’s training at University of North Iowa in Waterloo. I know her younger brother from high school in Cedar Falls. He has a pen pal who lives somewhere in Du Page County, Illinois. When I saw her carried off by the doctors, I began to know who the nurse was. She had returned from her home in Peoria, Illinois, because of some emotional problems in the past -- she saw a friend die in a drive by shooting while a visiting a college roommate Chicago. The event spooked her pretty bad so she came home to Cedar Falls, Iowa. A friend of mine was in the hospital at the time I was there -- he had tried to kill himself with an overdose of sleeping pills and pain killers. She was his nurse.
      After visiting hours, I hid out on the floor somewhere in the ward. It was dark and covered with shadows like the sky walkways in Des Monies in middle of winter. I saw where they wheeled Shana McHerold. I then slowly crawled into the room where she was placed -- she was sound asleep because of a sedative they placed her on to induce sleep. I stood there in the darkness watching her; keeping an eye out for that vampire thing which tore apart one of the patients in the hospital.
      “Shana, I came in when I found out it was you that was carried off upon the stretcher. Are you okay? I saw my friend’s roommate -- his body was bloated and responded quite violently. The skin formed pus blisters from head to toe. When I saw you in here, I had to come because you were a sister to me. Have they contacted your boyfriend yet? If they didn’t I will try to contact him and keep him posted about what had taken place. Don’t worry, I won’t let that f***ing thing near you.
      That creature was a vampire, but not one that was of the traditional vampire myths because the church created the vampire. It was a result of a man praticing the magick arts in the church. I see that your wearing a pentagram around your neck, but it is not the upside down pentagram used in Satanism. I reconize that symbol as the protection symbol used in Wicca, that is why the creature did not come after you,” I said trying to comfort her.
      She had woke up a little bit -- she wiggled her arms out the blanket sleeping bag the doctors had her in. She found enough strength to sit up. Her hands were still shaking in sheer horror to what had happened a few hours ago. Her hair was blonde, but she often dyed it black and has a thin build. She often kept the protection symbol tucked away under her nurse’s dress along with a quartz crystal around her neck. Then she kepted a rune stone in her purse as well as a tarot card, the magician card, meaning creativity.
      “Theo, I am glad to see you and thank you for hanging around after hours. I had no idea that the thing on the floor was a vampire. I never heard of this in the years I had been a nurse and studying to be a nurse, I had seen anything this horrific in the years that I worked in a hospital -- even though that I am working on the psysh unit, I never seen anything that frightening. I had heard of a horror that took place years ago in 1988, of a church that was burned down to hide a congregation that was murdered in a grotesque nature somewhere in New Hampton, Iowa.
      They had found skeletons all covered in blood -- the pastor was no where to be found, vanished from the face of the earth. Vanished until February of 1990, when the hospital hired on a new Chaplin, his name was Gerald Flagg. There were many cases of hospital staff disappearing for day then showing up comatase -- they would find them with two bite marks on their arm, in the place where one would place a needle for a blood test. The way they appeared was the surface skin was blistered with pus and convulsed violently, some would end up exploding into a gory mess,” Shana said in a shaken voice, half sobbing. It happened on this same date, four years ago -- the moon phase was a waning moon.
      “When they disappeared in every case, Flagg would be there -- dressed in a black suit and a red necktie, looking like a televangelist. There was a bloodbath similar to that in the turn of the century, 1899 and 1900, in New England. Somewhere in Rhode Island, I don’t know where but it was in New England. He carried the guise as a Baptist minister -- using Christianity as the means to use his power,” Shana explained, “I used to be in one of his churches until he drained one of the Deaconesses then killed his wife in front of the congregation. He said that he was taking communion, and after he drank their blood -- he said that this was the blood of Christ.”
      “Holy f***, a holi-than-thou-vampire. So then the blessed objects will not have any effect on him. He couldn’t touch you because of the charms around your neck. When you left the church, you discovered paganism and Wicca. In the myths, it would take blessed objects to fend them off, but to true ly abolish a vampire -- it will have to take witchcraft. God dammit, this is getting more disturbing by the minute. Now how can we stop this thing?” I had asked. “Do you have any suggestions?”
      “As a matter of fact, I have an idea. Give me your hand because you need a symbol of protection. You may think I am crazy, but you’re best friends with my younger brother, Kyle, so you do trust me enough. There’s a scalpel in the next room -- Iam going to need you to get it and give it to me,” she had said sounding irrate, but somehow I had to trust her, “then hide in one of the other rooms until 3 o’clock in the morning because that is when Flagg makes his rounds. His prey are usually Christians or people that want to make the choice of converting to Christianity -- whatever you do, do not look into his eyes. No one will believe you because of most of Iowa is in the Bible Belt. Especially Mason City, and they don’t take witches too lightly even if they are white witches.”
      Here I am, not even 18 years old and starting my Senior year. What Shana related to me was out right frightening. I tried to remain calm, but deep down I felt like shitting my shorts. Locked in mental health ward after hours and vampire preacher man is loose on the psych unit. Sounds like something in a nightmare, or one of the letters Kyle’s pen pal wrote about while on the subway in Chicago. I have this feeling that I am going to meet this pen pal in a few years, but right now I must get that scalpel -- somehow I had found found one, but not before I heard another bloodcurdling shriek. Not from Shana, but from a female patient locked into the quiet room. I followed the scream, but it was too late -- Flagg had gotten to her first. I acted quickly to get that scalpel, almost dived after it but I got it and ran back to Shana’s room.
      “Got it, but almost got caught by Benny Hinn out there. I had a close call, too f***ing close though -- Damn it, that is the closest I ever got to a vampire. I had seen some weird shit over the years, but nothing that f***ing weird,” I said panting, “Now -- you had something in mind with the scalpel. Okay -- I trust you, but don’t kill me with that thing.”
      I passed the knife into her hand. She began to do some ritual of protection -- she was stripped naked and made some kind of circle. I was still dressed in a green hooded flannel, black Wrangler jeans, and a pair of hiking boots. She pulled out my right hand and started to cut a symbol into my hand -- the symbol that she carved into my hand was that of protection. I grimiced in pain because the blood burned into the wound inflected on my palm. She said that it will hurt for a while and then placed some kind of dressing on the palm. My hand was shaking because of the seering pain. But for the sake of my survival, I must endure this morbid ritual since my life is in the hands of a solitary witch. The blood glowed bright red in the darkness. I was dreadfully nervous. This horror was beyond the psychological shit, I am dealing with something evil that is posing as a man of God.
      “Now at last I have the power to kill the witch, thou shall allow a witch sufferth to live,” muttered Flagg, “five humdred years of her bloodline had caused me to be defeated. Now I have the power of God on my side and that is stronger than any form of witchcraft.”
      A black shape appeared in the hall, it was around 5:30 a.m. when he came walking into the ward -- he was a man that looked like he was in his late 20s, early 30s. He walked in the direction where I was hiding, it was time to make my move. I waited until he passed my hiding place then I chased him; he was heading toward Shana’s room. I grabbed him by the shoulder, and the carving that Shana did on my hand burned into his back. He screamed in pain then threw me into the wall. I felt somthing crack, part of my shoulder, it felt like it had been dislocated.
      “Back off, mortal, I must do God’s will. That witch must die!!” Flagg bellowed. Shana’s room was near the east window, I felt the morning sun on my back. “Sunlight, that’s it -- vampires hate sunlight,” I thought to myself. I know how to kill him since blessed objects have no effect on them, but all vampires will die in direct sunlight. I found a lamp that projects enough light equal to that of the sun. “Hey Flagg, you want to talk the scriptures -- about the Lord saith, ‘Let there be light and there was light.’ “ I was standing in front of a light they would use for daylight therapy, people who have Seasonal Affected Depression. I reached behind me for ther switch, and appearently managed to turn it on. “Darkness hath no fellowship with light, mother f***er. I know what you are and I know what sunlight will do. ” I got out of the way of the light and the beam hit him in the face dead on. As the light was one him, his face began to melt exposing his skull. “Satan, I rebuke you -- I rebuke you .....I....” Flagg screamed. I ran over to the window to open the shade, revealing the daylight. “You want some more mother f***er, here some more where that came from.”
      There was nothing left of Gerald Flagg. All that was left of him was a skull on top of a leather bound Holy Bible. The skull had a pair of fangs that looked like that of a king cobra, and part of his hand did have claws that were sharp as a wolverine.

© 29 Nov 1999


Web Site: Writings From The Grave  

Reader Reviews for "Bloodletting"


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Reviewed by April Smith
I love, love, love reading anything on vampires and you definitely didn't disappoint me! Great story! :-) April
Reviewed by Monette Bebow-Reinhard (Reader)
This is good, Nickolaus! I've been looking for a good Wicca story for my anthology - care to submit this one for possible use?
Monette
Reviewed by Ronald Dondiego
The pacing was excellent throughout, and the characters tortured - but ah, the ending was indeed masterfully wrought! Great write! RD
Reviewed by    
Well descripted and a good storyline, i like the changing of the religious symbols, that made me smile :) ~xXx~ Peace and Love
Reviewed by Duane Pesice
hmm. I like it..good atmospherics if nothing else.
Reviewed by Mitzi Jackson
wow this is a great write......not only interesting but full of information on one of my favorites "vampires"...enjoyed you here!!!

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