Not-So-Fun-Fact

In 18th-century New England, during a wave of tuberculosis outbreaks, families believed that some of the deceased were rising from the grave to feed on the living. Known as "vampire panics," the most famous case occurred in 1892 with Mercy Brown in Exeter, Rhode Island. After she died of tuberculosis, her body was exhumed, found unnervingly well-preserved, and her heart was burned to prevent her from preying on her family.

Prologue

The biting chill of an October night swept through the small town of Exeter, Rhode Island. 1892, a year not so quickly forgotten by the locals, fear clung to the air like mist creeping through the dark woods. It wasn't the usual fear of illness or hardship, but something ancient, something inhuman. Rumour at the taverns, the markets and anywhere you cared to listen was, Mercy Brown, a 19-year-old girl who had died months before, had returned from the grave.

Old farmer Isaiah Blackwell, who lived just beyond the woods, had been the last to see her. His story twisted the townsfolk into knots of anxiety and superstition.

"They say her body wasn't touched by decay," Isaiah would whisper over his ale at the local tavern. "When they dug her up, she looked as if she'd only just laid down to sleep."

The details of Mercy's exhumation spread like wildfire. Her corpse was unnaturally preserved, they said, with rosy cheeks and blood still fresh in her heart. In desperation, the townspeople had cut out her heart and burned it, believing it would stop her from rising to feed on her living relatives. It was meant to bring peace.

But peace? Peace was a long way from home

Chapter 1: The Watcher

Jonathan Graves had heard the tale of Mercy Brown a hundred times before, but this night, sitting alone in his study by the dying light of the hearth, the story gnawed at him differently. He had returned to Exeter only a week ago, summoned by the letter of an old friend who claimed strange occurrences had started again.

"Jonathan, I fear the evil that haunted us once has returned," the letter had read. "Mercy’s heart was burned, but her spirit has never truly rested."

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly beneath him. The fire cast long shadows across the walls, dancing in time with the wind outside. As a historian, he had always been drawn to tales of the macabre, but this—this felt personal. He had known the Browns. Mercy had been a friend of his youth, vibrant and full of life before tuberculosis, or "consumption" as it was called then, had claimed her.

His friend Samuel's letter had not been the first hint that something was amiss. Since returning to Exeter, Jonathan had noticed an unsettling presence in the woods behind his family’s old home. At first, it was subtle—the feeling of being watched, a prickle at the back of his neck whenever he ventured too far past the tree line. But now, it was more.

The sound of soft, dragging footsteps followed him at night. A shadow, barely perceptible, flitted just beyond the edges of his vision. He had tried to dismiss it as the tricks of an overworked mind, but deep down, he could feel her reaching out, calling unto him.

Mercy was back.

Chapter 2: The Exhumation

It had started again just weeks after Jonathan's return: the deaths. First, it was Thomas Baker, an elderly man who had been found behind his mistress' house, all the blood drained from his body. Then it was young Lily Marsh, who had been the picture of health, suddenly found with two bite marks on her neck on the path to the chapel.

The rumors began almost immediately. "She's feeding again," they whispered. "Mercy's back."

Samuel Porter, the town's physician and Jonathan’s oldest friend, had been the one to organize the exhumation all those years ago. Now he was desperate to stop the panic from spreading anew.

“I don’t know if it’s the same, Jonathan,” Samuel said, pacing his office as Jonathan watched from the doorway. “But the bite marks, the drain, they are too familiar to ignore. These people are dying just as they did before. It’s as if—”

“Mercy never left,” Jonathan finished.

Samuel paused, rubbing his tired eyes. “Exactly. I think we missed something. Maybe burning her heart wasn’t enough.”

Jonathan frowned. “What else could there be? She’s dead, Sam. Mercy's dead.”

Samuel stopped, his eyes hollow. “Is she?”

The question hung heavy in the air. Jonathan felt a knot tighten in his stomach, could Mercy have survived? Would he get a chance to make things right?

Chapter 3: The Return

That night, Jonathan’s sleep was plagued with nightmares. He saw Mercy, standing at the edge of his bed, her pale face illuminated by the moonlight. Her eyes were hollow, but her lips, crimson red, curled into a grotesque smile. "I’m not dead," she whispered, leaning closer, her breath cold against his skin.

He woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. He could still feel her presence, lingering in the room.

A scent lingered in the room, blood and lillies. He walked around the house, opened the back door facing the woods. Standing outside in the chill off the night, he took a deep breath, and the familiar feeling of a night hunt hit, except this night, he was not hunting for food. He took 4 steps and wolfed through the woods at staggering speed, determined not to lose the scent.

The old cemetery lay on the outskirts of town, hidden beneath a canopy of oaks that seemed to whisper secrets into the wind. Jonathan moved quickly, his superhuman vision allowing him navigate the tombstones as he approached the familiar spot where Mercy was buried. His breath caught in his throat.

The grave was open.

The soil was freshly disturbed, the coffin lid shattered, splinters scattered like bones across the ground. She was gone.

HE had to find her. He had been a coward the last time around, afraid of helping her when she first turned for fear of being discovered by the town. He himself had just come running from his past in France, where he used to be Francis de Lorient, a count in Nantes, and Mercy was the first to welcome him.

Their quick blown romance was no secret, he stood looking at the grave and fell into a well of memories. The most haunting of them, the night he turned her.

Chapter 4: Blood and lillies

It was already getting dark. Jonathan had been at The Tree behind the chapel, where he had first met Mercy, and their daily meeting point. It was well and truly past her normal arrival time and he assumed she got caught up with chores and decided to pay a home call.

"Consumption?" Jonathan asked Samuel who he'd barely known at the time

"Unfortunately that is the case, say your goodbyes, I'm sorry" the doctor replied.

Jonathan felt the blood rage build, he hadn't felt that for over 3 centuries, he thought he had been cured or something.

He took off, into the woods, he could smell it, a 200 pound buck. He chased it down, ensuring to delay the kill for as long as he could. A hunt was all he needed to clear his mind and achieve eureka.

His mind was made up, she belonged beside him forever and he would make sure of that.

He got back only to find her alone and the house empty. Her family had left her to her fate. He stared at the young girl that made his dead heart beat again, how was he going to do this? he could not.

Jonathan spent the next few days with Mercy despite the warning from her family and townspeople, and it looked like Mercy was going to recover, she had begu speaking again, albeit slowly.

Returning to her the next evening was the day it all changed. He could nopt sense her in the house which was unexpected and he rushed in, only to find her on the bed, hanging on to life by a cobweb. Blood rage, his eyes turned black, He drew blood, fed her some and snapped her neck, he had done it, and he would not realize till morning.

Chapter 5: A Living Curse

Still standing over her grave, he felt a chill, that was weird, he was a vampire. Someone, something was watching him. Twig snapped and he had it under him in seconds, the scoundrel watching him, the unfortunate soul the foolish-

Mercy!

"Jonathan?!" she asked sounding scared and confused. ever since she turned, she had not encountered anyone who could overpower her and stop her from feeding on them.

"Mercy" he barely muttered through his breath.

Jonathan rushed to Samuel’s house as dawn broke, his mind racing. If Mercy had truly risen again, then he would do right by her and his bestfriend by coming clean.
When Samuel opened the door, his face was ashen, and his hands trembled.

“She came to me last night,” he whispered. “I saw her, Jonathan. Mercy was here, in my home. She... she tried to speak, but her mouth—” He faltered, his voice shaking. “Her mouth was filled with blood.”

“We have to stop her. This time for good.”
Jonathan felt a chill crawl down his spine. Absent mindedly nodded, but the weight of the truth bore down on him without respite.

Chapter 5: The Final Confrontation

That night, armed with what little knowledge they had of old folklore, Jonathan and Samuel ventured deep into the woods, where Mercy had been spotted moving like a phantom between the trees. They had brought with them the tools they believed would stop her—a mixture of herbs, a silver blade, and a crucifix said to ward off the undead.

But when they found her, it was not as they expected.

Mercy stood in a clearing, her white dress flowing in the wind, her eyes wide and pleading. She did not attack. She did not scream. She simply stared at them with an expression of deep sorrow.

“I never wanted this,” she said, her voice soft and filled with regret.

Jonathan stepped forward, his heart heavy. “Mercy, we can help you.”

“I’ve already died,” she whispered, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “But something dark has bound me to this place. I’m not the one who is feeding.”

Before Jonathan could respond, a shadow moved behind Mercy. A figure, tall and gaunt, emerged from the darkness, its eyes gleaming red in the moonlight. It was not Mercy who had been preying on the living. It was something far older, something far worse.

It was a rageling...

TO BE CONTINUED...

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