One October, I was in a Halloween kind of mood, and this idea kind of fell upon me. I'm not sure where the story goes from, but I think this is an interesting beginning.
The church was nearly empty, it's congregation merely a memory from earlier in the week. The chapel's sole occupant, Friar Thorn, made his way through the humble pews, broom in hand, sweeping the faded wooden floors in preparation for the sabbath tomorrow. Between sweeps, he could hear a small but noisy breeze howl past the steeple, and it made him shiver. He pulled his robes closer around him and looked up through one of the many windows to see the rapidly fading light of a sun that set hours ago. He hadn't planned to be sweeping this late, but his presence was needed to bless a newly built home and certain complications prevented him from returning to the church earlier. Still, despite the chill of November, the Lord's house needed to be prepared for tomorrow, and the friar wasn't one to shirk his duties.
Thorn was an average man, if you took away his robes, with his hair cut evenly around his head and his steady hands that wielded a broom handle well enough. While he wasn't as old as some of the other ministers around, he had seen his years, and had enough experience and learning to earn the respect of the villiages surrounding his mountain church. He didn't have much, but found ways to be generous, often wishing he had more to give, and never became discouraged at his tasks, no matter how difficult or tedious they may be. Even as he was sweeping the chapel, he was preparing his sermon for the next morning in his mind.
But his mental preparations were interrupted by a sound that wafted in between the broom and the wind. He thought it sounded like the squeal of a door, opening or closing, but wasn't quite sure if he had actually heard it. He lifted his broom off the floor and held still, listening. For a moment, he heard nothing new, but eventually, the taps of boots slowly walking across the wooden foyer of the church echoed into the chapel. A million thoughts ran through Friar Thorn's head as he began to stare at the chapel's entrance, mouth hanging open. Who was coming to visit at this hour?
His question was soon answered as the metal-rimmed doors separating the foyer and the chapel squealed open. The friar jumped, but quickly composed himself and made his way to the center aisle to greet his visitor. Just as he cleared the pews and placed his broom on one of the armrests, he finally got a view of the stranger.
And strange he was, indeed. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was somewhat imposing. His black hat had a wide brim that matched his dark overcoat and boots, all of which made his pale and pointed face stand out that much more. The settling night seemed to create a menacing, but mysterious air about him. Thorn certainly had never seen him before, but that made no difference to him. After getting an eyeful, he approached the stranger, who happened to look up just then.
"Oh," he said, holding up a hand in apology. "I didn't know anyone was . . . here."
"That's fine. Come in, come in," Friar Thorn entreated, smiling.
The stranger looked around the chapel, uncertain for some reason. "Are you sure I'm . . . welcome here?" There was a certain coldness about his voice that ran another chill down the friar's back, but he seemed so harmless that the friar just shook it off, thinking it was the night distorting his words.
"Sure, you're welcome. It is an odd hour, but you're certainly not out of line. What can I help you with?" By now, the friar had made his way up to the stranger and saw that he was just slightly taller than him. He could also see the gentlemanly manner in which he carried himself and that his clothes, while very nice, looked quite old, having seen better days. It was almost as if this man had walked out of the past.
At the friar's question, the stranger took another look around the chapel before speaking. "I . . . have never been in a church before, and I decided that it was . . . an experience that I should have. I have spent many years pondering deep in my heart many things, and I understood that one could . . . recieve some answers here. I was hoping to-" But then he paused for a long moment, longer than the other pauses, searching for the right words before continuing with, "perhaps feel something."
The stranger spoke in a peculiar way, stopping and starting as if spending most of his time speaking choosing each word with delicacy. The friar ignored it, instead focusing on the sheep before him that had gone astray. "Well, I'd like to think I can share the Good Word as well as any minister, so I'll promise you that I'll do what I can, but perhaps you could come by tomorrow morning when we have our services. You could worship together with the rest of the villages."
At this, the stranger grimaced, his eyes darting back and forth. After taking in a deep breath, he spoke, "I'd . . . like to avoid being seen in public. My . . . situation is complicated, which is why I've come so late and so . . . discreetly."
"Such dishonesty will only get you into further trouble," Friar Thorn said, his hands on his hips.
"Please be patient with me?" the stranger replied, smiling nervously, his lips pursed together.
The friar stared at him for a moment before taking in a deep breath and sighing it out. "Very well. I certainly can't just send you away if you're here and willing. What would you like to know?" he said.
"I . . . wouldn't even know where to begin," the stranger admitted.
This raised Friar Thorn's eyebrows, but carried on with his next quesiton. "Well, what do you know about God?"
The stranger looked to one side, deep in thought, clearly composing his answer carefully. "I have heard of . . . God, heard many people talking about Him. Some revere him while others . . . revile Him. I do not know Him or know what His business is. Is He important to this church?"
Friar Thorn gave him a funny look, making the stranger feel nervous. Then the friar shook his head and said, "You really don't know anything?" At this, the stranger shrugged, almost looking like a child afraid he was in trouble. Then the friar said, "Come with me. Let's see if we can help your confusion by turning to the Good Book," and he turned to walk down toward the pulpit of the chapel.
"The Good Book?" the stranger asked, following right behind him.
"The Holy Bible; the Word of God. It explains who He is and how He has dealt with His people," Friar Thorn said, gesturing as he walked.
"His people?" the stranger asked.
"His creations! His children!" the friar said, reaching the pulpit, then turning to the stranger to add, "Us!" At this, the stranger looked quite shocked. Thorn smirked, then said, "You clearly have much to learn."
"Really?" the stranger said, smiling once again, "That sounds wonderful!"
Satisfied, the friar made his way around the pulpit and opened the large book that it held. He glanced at the stranger as he separated pages, and said, "You can go ahead and remove your coat and hat. No need to keep them on."
"I . . . would like to keep them on, if you don't mind. You see, I'm . . . rather sensitive to the cold," the stranger explained before sliding next to the friar to see the words of the book. He quickly smiled at the intricate designs and detailed pictures, as it was modeled after far more ancient tomes than this one. While it was simply a cheaper reprint, Thorn liked how austere it looked. Soon, he found the page he was looking for.
"See here," he said, and began to read out loud, " 'In the beginning, God created the the heavens and the earth.' He created everything. He's the reason we're alive today."
"I see," said the stranger. The friar looked at him as he said this, but when he did, he noticed something and gasped. The stranger quickly turned to him in concern, only to see Friar Thorn's shocked figure slowly back away from him. At once, the stranger was crestfallen.
"You!" the friar shouted, backing up to a nearby pillar. "You! You're-"
The stranger woefully nodded and sighed. "Yes," he said, smiling wide to show the insicors that the friar had seen a moment ago.
"You're a vampire!"
Again, the stranger slowly nodded, removing his hat to reveal his pointed ears.
"What are you doing here?" the friar demanded.
"I apologize for not being transparent earlier, but I assure you that intentions are as I said before," the stranger said politely, stepping forward.
"Stay back!" Thorn shouted, and he began fumbling within his robes. In a flash, he pulled on a chain around his neck, revealing a silver cross that hung from it. The vampire looked at it, then back at at the friar.
"What is that?" he asked sincerely. The friar froze, the cross lightly swinging back and forth on its chain.
"You-you don't know?" the friar asked. The stranger shook his head, looking at it again to be sure.
"What does it do?" he asked, pointing at it with thin, white finger.
"It's supposed to scare you away!" the friar said, his voice cracking a little. He presented it even more, as if that would make it work, but the stranger just stood there, puzzled.
"Why would it do that?" he asked.
"Because your a servant of the devil!" the friar shouted, his fear and anger distoring his voice.
"The devil?" the stranger asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, the devil! The source of all the pain and suffering in the world. The trickster! The liar! The cheat! The ultimate evil!"
Once again, the vampire looked down, sorrow now appearing on his face. "So I'm considered evil here, too," he said. He turned his gaze over to the bible on the pulpit, drawing a line down the open page with a finger. "Does this book also say I'm evil?"
Thorn wasn't sure what to make of what he was seeing. Based on his upbringing and training, everything that he saw seemed to scream "evil," but he couldn't shake how humble and submissive the creature standing before him seemed to be. He wondered if it was some kind of elaborate trap or test, but the sincerity in the stranger's eyes caused him to doubt everything he knew.
"The-the Bible doesn't . . . explicitly state that 'vampires are evil,' but it . . . it-it does warn us against the servants of the devil and-and-and their deceptions," Thorn stammered out.
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