Chapter 5 – Tragedy of a Strigoi

In our private library, we have millions of documents and tomes from throughout different times in history, since the beginning of man. Superb poems, prose, ancient scrolls describing amazing events that happened in history, some of them not even known by man. I was mostly interested in finding writings about the Eastern European folklore, although many of the experiences that I have had in the past made me realize that many legends were in fact as real as the moon hanging lifeless in the night sky.

As I was looking for something to feed my mind with, a strange brown leather sort of like journal fell down from one of the shelves. I went to pick it up and I noticed that it was a normal journal about village life in Wallachia in the 15th century.

However, some pages described something horrible.

November 30th 1437 A.D.

The Black Hill Village, Wallachia

The Diary of Janosz Chira

It is now three weeks since I have seen my brother, I do not know what happened to him, how or why he disappeared. I found a small pool of blood in his room the morning following his disappearance and since then something has changed in the village, something evil was beginning to make its presence known. The air was changing, it was starting to feel very heavy at night, a mysterious mist was slowly enshrouding the city under the dead eyes of the moon.

People started disappearing regularly almost every week, their screams echoing in the night. Doors were bolted shut, garlic was hanging outside every house now, and slowly, the village was turning into a graveyard.

I decided to hold a meeting with the rest of my companions at the Lodge of Eternal Light so that we see if we can discover what is going on and if it can be stopped, the evil cut clean at its root.

“Brothers, I have called you here tonight to put an end to this insanity. Something is taking away the village folk and it is our duty to make sure that this has an end. Has any of you seen anything out of the ordinary lately besides the obvious screams and bad omens floating around in the village? Brother John, you may speak.”

“Yes sir, last night as I was doing my nocturnal round on the streets I felt some presence walking behind me when I was turning corners, its steps doubling mine. Every time I turned no one was there. So I started running to see if it still follows me and I heard its footsteps running after me. I turned my head for a second, and when I turned it forward again, an unnatural shape was standing in front me and it said to me:

“Mortal, I will eat your soul and drink your life right here and now.”

Standing in fear I started praying to God, while the thin silhouette was laughing mockingly as tears were falling down my cheeks.

“Do you think your petty God will help you, do you think a faceless cruel God cares for a pest like you humans, who know only to kill each other in meaningless violent and endless wars? Your God is dead and Heaven is burning.”

“Then how are you still alive, John? How did the creature look like?” I asked.

“My only salvation was this little bottle of holy water which I threw in the face of the creature and this silver cross I got out and pointed it like a weapon towards him and he started shrieking and hissing covering his eyes at the sight of the cross. Sir, the creature was thin, very pale, its eyes an evil shade of red, he had claws and its mouth was bloody. His teeth were sharp and he was bald. He was a living dead, a creature risen from the grave in the night, only to consume human flesh and blood. This was a thing of evil, sir. A Strigoi. We must find where it sleeps and kill it, sir, and we must do it quickly or there will be more deaths.”

“I understand. Thank you, John.”

Everyone of us in the room stood aghast at the hearing of such troublesome news. We never experienced anything like this and we were not prepared for a battle like this. We heard about the strigoi from the elders of the village, but we did not take it as true, only as a story. We knew we needed stakes, torches, silver crosses, holy water and cloves of garlic. Now I knew my brother was killed by this vile sickening monster and I swore to avenge him even it meant that I had to give away my own life.

The plan was to trap the monster in the village square, so we drew a large circle with a flammable material, so that we can light it up by shooting an arrow from the roof. Two of our brothers offered themselves as bait for the Strigoi.

Night came and our brothers waited in the middle of the circle, looking like they were repairing something as to not give away the plan. We had men standing on top of roofs ready to show the arrows, while I was waiting patiently in a corner ready for attack.

In the silence of a night that seemed eternal, a figure appeared behind one of our brothers in the circle, enraged with madness. Before an arrow was shot, our brother was ripped to shreds. The other one tried to fight the demon, but before raising his sword, rivers of blood started flowing from his neck with the Strigoi feeding and yelling like a demented beast.

His hunger blinded him and he realized very late that he was trapped. I rushed inside the fiery circle, I threw holy water on him, vapors rising from where the water touched him, I placed the silver cross on his head, and as he was turning and screaming, I wanted to kill him with my silver knife, but as I tried putting it through its head, the creature raised its hand and blocked it, the blade going right through, blood started coming down.

He saw a small opening in the circle and made a run for it, slowly vanishing in the night, leaving a bloody trail behind. I yelled at my men to follow the trail, with me leading them. Five hours later, tired and with almost no energy left in us, we arrived at the entrance of a cave. The sun came up in the morning sky and as we entered the cave, we saw the shape of a coffin.

“We found its resting place. Men, take the coffin out and take the lid off!” I yelled.

Inside the creature lay dormant, not being aware that it was nearing its end. Its hideous apparition, the vile aura surrounding him, the miasma coming out from inside the coffin made us all retch.

As I was preparing to put my knife through its head, I noticed a piece of paper. I took it out and started reading it:

“If you are reading this, then I am probably nearing an end that I have been waiting for the past 120 years of relentlessly haunting and hunting in these lands. I was turned to a Strigoi against my will and I wish I can take back all the destruction and suffering I have brought unto this world. My name was Simion, but now I have no name, the living dead bear no names.”

As I turned the paper, on the back of it the following was written:

“The silent songs of death now echo through this freezing crypt,

I only wish to rest now, so please end me in my sleep.

I am the living dead and I cannot stop the urge to kill,

Because my hunger makes me do things far beyond my will.

Now leave me here to rot forever, dead and torn apart

Just turn my head backwards and impale my broken heart.”