The Saint Patrick's Day Vampire

Saint Patrick's Day.

Or more appropriately Saint Patrick's Night.

Down in the woods near Blarney Castle.

Alongside that path of stones where Druids practised human sacrifice centuries ago.

One could still feel the chill and sensation of evil there even today when one stops there after kissing the Blarney Stone.

From the kiss of Blarney to the kiss of death within a short distance.

And for Nellie O' Donnel, it seemed to be just that.

The lovely red head in the green mini dress now found herself tied to a rock.

It was 11 PM on Saint Patrick's Night.

Nellie who had been drinking in The Stuffed Goose Pub had bicycled out alone to Blarney Castle on a dare.

She had climbed up the stairs of the Castle and approached the Blarney Stone.

She lay backwards adjusting her green mini dress and her green silk nylons as she did so.

She closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze of a Saint Patrick's Night in Ireland.

When she opened her eyes again, there was a white bearded white haired man in a white robe standing above her with a glistening knife in his hands.

The man picked her up in his arms and then jumped off the open roof of the castle.

She screamed.

But black wings came out from under the man's robes.

And the man flew.

He flew to the nearby Blarney woods with the caves and the stones.

The black winged man in the white robe tied her to a stone shaped like an altar although she tried kicking at him with her green spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

The white bearded man looked down at her and smiled.

Showing his white vampiric incisors.

She screamed, "A vampire!".

The man spoke in a voice that sounded like the footsteps of a giant, "Yes, I am a vampire. A vampire and a Druid. I am Clyvaughlon of the Black Horn and once I was High Priest here. But The Patrick drove me from here."

"The Patrick?" the red-headed girl sounded quizzical.

"The Patrick... the one you used to call Saint until your people started worshipping Mammon rather than God back in the mid-1990s," the Druid laughed.

He put a gag in her mouth and then raised the knife.

"O Lord of Samhain, Lord of the Underworld," Clyvaughlon of the Black Horn seemed to address an unseen deity, "you who once ruled this land until the coming of the Patrick's Christ, with this blood soon shed, you will once again reign over this Isle of the Sacred Emerald..."

"And a Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you," a voice spoke in the night before the sound of a cross-bow being fired could be heard.

The silver arrow that had been dipped in Holy Water near the tomb of Saint Patrick pierced the vampiric Druid's heart.

And Clyvaughlon of the Black Horn vanished into white dust.

A gust of wind blew the white dust across the green of the land.

And then out to the Irish Sea.

Dracul Van Helsing untied Nellie O' Donnell.

"Who was he?" she asked.

"He was one of the Druidic High Priests who was here when Patrick arrived," Dracul explained, "Patrick drove him from Ireland. He went to Brittany in France where he was bitten by the vampiress Isis and then spent his time terrorizing the residents of that region."

"And he decided to return to Ireland"" she asked.

"Yes, he thought the time was right to return," Dracul said quietly.

Dracul looked up at the sky.

Where the pattern of stars in the night sky at that moment seemed to resemble a snake.

Dracul was silent.

He wondered how many of the other snakes Patrick had driven out of Ireland would soon be returning.



To be continued.