His Blood is the Life

Free Vampire Story

Yes, the free vampire stories such as this June one: "His blood is the Life" are still free. But I am now asking for donations towards the site rental for the website they appear on. Thanks to the wonder of PayPal, any donation amount is acceptable (I would be happy with fifty cents -- I'm not looking to get rich off this) -- just to have the site support itself.

There were people walking into the church; each greeted at the door by the Priest dressed in full regalia. It looked friendly with the lights shining out the open doorway, and the windows glowing their pictures into the night. It gave them a safe-haven, a free pass. Lisa knew all about the safe haven of Church; she’d grown up going to weekly service herself. Odd -- that their safe-haven was likely to be the death of her. For the darkened lawn surrounding the path offered no safe place for her to hide from the slayers so close behind her. She was being encircled and forced towards the impassable, safe haven.

“We’ve got the bitch now,” the slayer on her right muttered quietly as Lisa edged a fraction closer to the shadowed open lawn.

“Nowhere for her to go,” the other male replied all too close to her left side. The muttered agreement behind her told her she’d soon have to defend herself. One she could take. Two – maybe. Three…no way. She was outnumbered.

Looking over her shoulder at the church behind her, Priest still in the door, she decided she’d rather flame out from the crosses and holiness than give them the satisfaction of staking her.

Lisa turned and took a step onto the dark lawn. She fully expected to burst into agonizing flame – the flames of hell she’d been promised and warned about back when she was a child and did something wrong. She’d clung to the same cross that would now destroy her. It had been her savior when her parents whipped her butt for some minor misdemeanor.

But she didn’t flame. So she took another small step. Again no flames.

As she moved slowly onto the lawn, closer to the light, she heard the three slayers meet up behind her, so she moved more rapidly towards the Priest and his open arms. She was shaking his hand as she heard the slayers come out of the dark bushes and onto the dark lawn.

“Where the fuck did she go?” seemed to be their consensus question.

As she let the Priest edge her inside she glanced back at them, and as the door closed saw them begin to cross the darkened lawn, examining every blade of grass clearly thinking she’d found a bolt-hole.

Amazed to be standing inside the Church – and not screaming in agony or bursting into flames – Lisa quickly found a seat well away from the altar and it’s large cross. The Priest who had encouraged her entrance joined the Deacon and altar servers before moving to the front to arrange the Book of the Gospels. They faced the altar where he made the sign of the cross before turning once more to face his congregation – and one vampire.

Even while she wondered why she was able to enter a church the sense of familiarity overwhelmed her. She basked in the smell of incense which overrode the musky scent of mold. There was always a bit of mold due to the age of the building. Then she became aware of the scent of blood emanating from the front of the church. It pulled her, but she forced herself to remain sitting in the pew.

“Hi, I’m Stanly Olaff,” the man sitting next to her informed her, sticking his hand out in the traditional – and detested – hand of friendship. “And you are…?” he prompted.

“Ahhh, Lisa Shmitt,” she answered as she gingerly accepted his hand, looking down and slightly right to prevent him getting a clear look at her mouth. While the blood scent was distant enough not to have her fangs fully out, she knew they’d be beginning to show.

“Is this your first visit?” Stanly asked as he shook her hand. Then he dropped it abruptly as he realized it was really cold.

“Um… I suffer from poor circulation,” Lisa quickly explained.

“My Grandmother suffered from it also. She found Heart and Body extract helped with it,” he informed her kindly before he turned to pick up his hymnal as “Meet and Greet” time ended.

By now Lisa was seriously freaked. She, a vampire, had now been sitting inside a Church for at least ten minutes, and nothing awful had occurred. She waited through the prayer of absolution, then through the Kyrie and puzzled as to why she was still alive. She’d never heard of a vampire entering a church, let alone sitting while hymns were sung and prayers were said. Vampires, everyone knew, were soulless creatures of evil. And there were places they couldn’t go; and into a Church full of crosses and Holy Water had to top the list. Yet she was sitting here as unharmed as the three slayers she noted sitting further up the rows on the other side of the aisle. She smiled to herself as she silently thanked God that they didn’t know what she looked like. While the Eucharistic prayer was said, with the story of the last supper, she had time to wonder if she was living proof that the idea of “once saved always saved” was true. What other reason could there be for her ability to survive inside what should have been a death chamber for her?

She was recalled to her surroundings as the familiar refrain of the Lord’s Prayer filled the air around her, and she found herself finishing the prayer as those around her did. Lisa was amazed as her fangs fully retracted – in spite of the blood aroma – as the Priest intoned the Rite of Peace; “Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church, and grant us the peace and unity of your kingdom where you live forever and ever” was particularly comforting since she now knew more than she wanted to of “forever and ever.”

Soon she found herself in line heading up to partake of communion. She was several people behind the slayers. When the priest tilted the chalice allowing the Holy blood to flow into her mouth, she thought she would certainly die. After all, what could be more holy than the literal transubstantiated blood of Christ? Yet it warmed her as it ran down her throat in a way the human blood she’d been forced to drink to survive failed to. If filled her and – almost – made her feel a heartbeat as she followed the man, Stanly, back to their pew.

She was moving on automatic as she joined him in the aisle to once more shake hands with the Priest. She knew that she should invite Stanly to join her for a coffee, and lead him down a dark alley to drink his blood, but she had no desire to do so. She felt utterly sated from the small sip she’d had during communion. She decided to find another Mass of Communion the next night instead of a victim, for it seemed that rather than “the blood being the life,” it should rather be, “His blood is the life.”

Yes, again with the request.

By leslie Ormandy (2010 All Rights Reserved)