Absolution: On the beach at Kualoa

ABSOLUTION:

ON THE BEACH

AT

KUALOA

By

Don March

Revised May 2013

Copyrighted 2011 Don March

Published at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

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CHAPTER 1

Boston 1973

The cold darkness surrounded me. Darkness had always been oddly comfortable; with the cold, the darkness was especially comfortable here. Candlelight peering through the pattern of small man-made holes took me back to that day when the dim light of dusk peered through the rocks, the dirt and the dust, and then the cold and the darkness enveloped me that day. Now it all seemed like an eternity, so long ago. It was but a blink of the eye compared to my life since, if you could call this a life. If there was such a thing as absolution and with every fiber of my being, I believe it so. If it holds true and the Catholic Church holds the possibility of absolution, if my absolution is possible and everything I have researched says it is possible here in this church, then I gratefully await my absolution. Suddenly, the door in the adjacent chamber opened and an eerie figure moved beyond the pattern of man-made holes.

God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; confess your sins my son, said the eerie figure beyond the holes.

Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been……. I started I knew this was a bad time to start with a lie, but the truth of three hundred and thirty four years would not be accepted by this or any other priest. My last confession was at the Cologne Cathedral in the year of our lord 1639, two weeks before my idealistic journey to the new world started, two months before my adventure in the new world started and two years before that fateful day in the wilderness of New France. It had been a very long time since my last confessional, I continued.

Confess your sins before god my son, the priest stated in a thick Bostonian accent.

I have killed many people to ensure my own survival, I stated.

In times of war, such things are expected my son, and God understands. You aren’t planning on killing - you don’t still carry the urge to kill or the desire to kill any more, do you the priest asked.

No I do not, I replied.

That is good, he answered trying to comfort me, then he continued, are there any other sins that you have committed and wish to confess, the priest asked.

No, father, I replied.

Say fifty Our Father’s and fifty Hail Mary’s and remember you are home now, this isn’t Vietnam, the priest said.

Yes Father, I replied, the priest had made some assumptions but I saw no reason to correct him. Is it a sin if the falsehood was an assumption, an assumption made by another person.

I absolve you of your sins, go in peace my son, the priest said. I quietly left the confessional making my way to a secluded part of the choir loft, the loft overlooking the entire interior of the church, the porch, narthex, nave, the altar and a passage way, the passage way that led to the sanctuary. This was a place where I could do my penance but more importantly, I could also watch the comings and goings in the church. My life, my existence was one of distrust and defense, trust no one, trust no situation, always remain on guard, even in a church, even on sacred ground I must be vigilant. Sacred ground holds no peril in itself, but those best described as hunters, have foolishly placed superfluous significance on sacred ground. A hunter would not think of looking for me on sacred ground, making churches a good place to hide but someday some hunter will figure out this paradox. That sacred ground is and can be sanctuary for a vampire, but no haven is a sanctuary forever. Besides churches are not the perfect refuge, churches tend to very busy during the day and churches tend to attract zealots and zealots are more of a danger then any hunter, zealots are dangerous to everyone. I avoid churches and I avoid sacred ground but it is nice to know they are there for that occasional emergency

But I am here in this church not for sanctuary, but for absolution. If there was a catholic church that could absolve me of this curse and could absolve me of the sin of this curse, it would be here in this church. In this church’s long history, more miracles have been attributed to this church; than all of the churches of the New World put together. There was an unquantifiable mystic quality here, an air of substantive spirituality, you could feel it and it was my last hope - of all the religions of this world, Catholicism and this church was my last hope.

I dutifully recited fifty one Hail Mary’s and fifty one Our Father’s, one for luck. It was time for the test. The sun hung low in the sky, and a seam of light cut through a gap in the door and it ran up the center aisle. Here was a simple, yet uncontestable test of my absolution. As I walked past the ornately carved ivory crucifix, I genuflexed, just to be sure and I walked towards the ray of light, that thin seam of light running down the center aisle, from the gap in the front door. I placed my hand into the ray of light. The ray running across my hand, I held my hand there. Then, the searing pain of white-hot heat cut into my hand, a severe burn much like the burn from touching a hot pot handle. Painful, very painful but not life threatening, just a painful remainder of the curse I carry. Sunlight burns and burns very quickly and long-term exposure would burn me to a crisp, nothing I couldn’t came back from, nothing blood and time couldn’t fix. I pulled my hand back, longer you leave it in the sun the more it will hurt and the longer it will take to regenerate. As much as I had hoped for absolution, as much as I had believed this would the time, as much as I knew this was the church, I had not been absolved of the great sin I carry. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the priest leading a cherubic altar boy to the priest chambers in the back of the sanctuary. I could hear the priest’s heart racing, beating faster than his age and his health would indicate. Being denied absolution is a hard bat to bite, but being denied absolution by this priest is a transgression that shall not go unquestioned. I will have to confront this miscreant and I moved towards his sanctuary. No courtesy this fool deserved I thought as I burst into the priest’s chamber.

Get out, this is an outrage, the priest shouted, his tunic unbuttoned to his waist, the bottle of Mogen David Concord wine opened, the cap on the table with a purple drop collected on its rim and the cherubic altar boy was gulping down a large water glass of the sweet purple sacramental wine.

Boy go, go now boy, I demanded and the boy looked to the priest, Do not look to him for your salvation, go and go NOW, I said in a voice few men, much less a boy could argue with.

What do you want, the priest boldly asked as the boy scurried out of the room. Fear and shock wore on boy’s face and I shut the door behind him. The priest stood and started to button his tunic.

I came here for absolution and I did not find it, I said, my eyes flared and fixed, the priest wary, angry, but he showed no fear.

Well you have to look into your own soul and…... the priest started, I snarled, he paused and my fangs started to erupt and my curse became apparent to him.

What soul, I HAVE NO SOUL, you foolish man, I shouted in a thunderous voice that echoed through the room as my fangs protruded, my eyes lost their white color, the darkness of hell dominated my pupils and my pupils dominated my eyes.

What form of demon are you, the priest demanded, fear in his eyes but not in his voice.

I came here for absolution, I stated.

Vampire, shouted the priest.

This church has more miracles for its long life, more miracles have been documented within its walls, than all the churches in the New Land combined, but apparently a miracle is not forthcoming - not from a man like you and not for a vampire like me, I said facing the priest. He turned to a bowl of water on the counter behind him and quickly blessed the water and threw the bowl full of water at me. The water hit me full and harmlessly dripped down my hair, face and clothes.

Holy water…. the legend says that holy water will severely burn and kill a vampire. But what the legend doesn’t tell you, is that it is only holy water from the spring at Lourdes that will kill a vampire and it is only that water blessed by St. Nicetas that will burn and kill a vampire but water blessed by a man like you will have no effect on me, I said as the priest backed to the desk and grabbed a large crucifix off the wall.

Die demon crumble before the might of my lord, the priest said as he brandished the crucifix, holding it up high over his head.

A crucifix fashioned from the wood of the original cross or containing the nails of the original cross or a crucifix held by St. Ashar or the crucifix of St. Theda any of these crosses would have a crushing effect on me, but a cross held by a man like you has no power over me, I said, advancing towards him, the priest rushing stumbling to the window. He drew back the curtains, letting in the fading light of this day.

The morning light can cause a painful burn. This fading light is but a minor irritation, only the light of dawn on Golgotha, the Skull of Adam, the site of the crucifixion, the site known to devout Christians as Calvary hill, only that morning light can kill a vampire. Sir I am not a demon, I am a vampire seeking redemption from my curse, seeking the absolution you promised, I explained as I stepped from the direct rays of light. The sunlight had burned my flesh, blistering the side of my face. The priest shaken, moved to the desk. Panicked, he dug through the desk drawers. A pistol emerged from the desk drawer, banished in the priest’s hand. The priest then fired the pistol at me, hitting me twice.

Silver, I said, I guessed, I sensed. The bullets felt unusual, their metal’s composition odd but not unfamiliar. I knew them as silver soon after they passed through my body.

Silver, I know silver is deadly to vampires, the priest said with a nervous smile, his faith in vampire lore shaken, a faith in god should have been, could have been his salvation.

And how do you know this, I said, I smiled and I was upon him in an instant taking the gun hurling it across the room.

Silver kills werewolves and vampires, the priest whimpered. I had him in my grip, I didn’t have time to toy with him further, and I knew the sound of the shots would soon bring unwanted attention.

You, my pathetic father, you have seen one too many matinees with the altar boys, I think. Yes, the silver of Judas Iscariot is deadly to all manner of hellish beings that walk the earth. All other silver is but a minor inconvenience. The only thing more dangerous than an evil vampire is an angry vampire, I said, my finger nail slid cross his throat, slitting it open. His pulsating blood sprayed out over the small table and on to the wall behind. I boldly fed on that evil man, that hypocrite who portrayed himself as a man of god. But in my haste to drain him and to leave before being discovered, I didn’t notice the small goblet on the table. I didn’t notice the drops of the priest’s blood that dripped into the goblet. I didn’t notice blood turning clear and I didn’t notice the blood finally turning to an unmistakable reddish purple color of wine. There were miracles in that church, that day, but in my haste, I failed to see them and in my haste, I might have missed my last and best chance for absolution.

Present Day

Taverns have always been a place for people to find solace; even a vampire can find solace in a tavern. It is one of the few things that have not changed in my three hundred plus years. Sitting in a bar with a drink was still oddly comforting even if imbibing the drink set before me in this small quiet bar had no effect on me. In a tavern, I could escape what I was for the moment. Sitting in a tavern does have its advantages, like bar food, I love the distinct flavor of alcohol marinated blood, the wide and varied combination of the different alcohols and different bloods, and one could never tire of the unique blends. The slightly intoxicated young girl was my favorite bar food, but the older woman trapped in the life of her own making can taste just as sweet and the gentle yet confused mom will do if that is the only selection for the night. Still for food, bars will give you an unending variety.

Hey, buddy you going to nurse that beer all night, the bartender asked.

Just taking my time, I replied.

That beer has been sitting in front of you for going on two hours and you haven’t had a sip, the bartender stated as he walked passed me and up to the impatient boy at the far end of the bar, barely twenty-one I guess. I quickly dumped my beer, I can drink but it has no taste. On an empty stomach, that quantity of an inert liquid just wasn’t very pleasant. Someone over the legal limit of alcohol in their blood; now that is a drink I like: that is a drink I could enjoy.

Another, I said to pacify the bartender as he made his way to my end of the bar.

Sure, he replied, how odd he thought, sit for two hours and then a quick chug.

And, let me buy one for her, I said pointing out the unique young girl surrounded by a bunch of suits. They weren’t friends of hers but they were friends, and one for her friends, I said as he returned with my beer and I pointed out the girl at the near side of the bar, surrounded by a pack of guys in suits. Off work, the suits they work together, I’d say from their interaction and from the conversations, they have been having. They all had their sights on the girl and they all were not about to concede to their friends. Unique was the only way I could describe her, she was young and of a muddled oriental origin. From her pattern of drink, her metered and measured sips, she didn’t plan on getting too drunk, but the suits they had other plans and as far as they were concerned, she was over her limit. She had a single braid in her hair. She also had a coco almost burnt suntan that said tropical vacation, as does the coral earrings and her taste for rum. All these point to a recent tropical vacation. It has been a while but I do like my late dinner flavored with rum and coconuts.

So, how are you, I said flashing my charm and my eyes, approaching her weaving my way through the suits.

Hi, she replied wide eyed, eager for something, eager for anything besides a suit.

Thanks, for the drinks, one of the suits said, being polite yet slightly annoyed with my advance. The suits, they presented to me that their kitchen passes had expired, they were ready to go, they had to leave. Their easy pickup was now even more complicated, more work and the morning would come too soon for them. Their wedding bands missing, a quick pickup was really more of a fantasy than a reality for the suits, the whole flirting ritual was all that they really wanted and my presence quickly buried that fantasy for the night.

You look astonishing, that is a great tan, I said and with that cheesy line all the suits were vanquished. She was looking into my eyes and I could have said just about anything to capture her attention.

We should get going, the one suit said, he was done and my flirting was the final brush stroke that finished off their mediocre night. Flirting with the girl was the only highlight for their night and she was quickly slipping away.

Can we drop you off anywhere, can we give a ride, another suit asked, making one last attempt to garner the young girl’s attention.

Thanks for the drinks guys, I think I need to stay a bit longer, she replied.

Geann, you sure he seems a little weird, you going to be alright, one suit whispered to her.

No, he looks fun and a little wild, she said giving me a smile.

Fine, night, he said as he left in a huff.

Geann, interesting name, I’m Jon, I said.

I was supposed to be Diane, but my dad got drunk and screwed it up, so Geann, she replied.

That is at least an interesting story for that beautiful name, tell me about the tan, a tropical vacation, I asked to keep the conversation going long enough to give some space and distance from the suits’ departure.

Hawaii, Johnny, two glorious weeks, she started.

It’s Jon, I responded with a smile and pretended to sip my beer.

Johnny, I mainly stayed on Oahu, but I spent some time on Maui, Molokai and the big island, that is what they call the island of Hawaii, nothing there but volcanoes. I like Maui and I would have liked to spend some more days there, but by far Oahu was my favorite, the nightlife plus all the sun and sand, Geann said quickly without taking a pause or a breath.

Do you what to take a walk outside with me and get a breath of fresh air, I said and my eyes suggested.

Sure, sure a breath of air sounds nice, she replied as she got up and lead the way outside, turning and smiling as we stepped outside. I moved close to Geann as we walked along and at the first gangway, I prepared to make my move.

Let’s step here, I said, I smiled and my eyes persuaded. Geann smiled, she followed my eyes, without hesitation she stepped into to the dark gangway, turning towards me, mesmerized, eager for the kiss she anticipated, eager for whatever might come next. She expected a deep long kiss: a deep bite and a few pints of blood was what I intended. I moved close, a soft kiss on the lips would secure the trance and reinforce the illusion that my eyes deftly suggested. She stood eagerly awaiting, a soft sweet kiss and expecting a deep wet kiss to follow and all I saw was the rising curve of her neck and the red nectar flowing just below the surface of her tanned flesh. I moved in to consummate the spell, but as our lips touched, a surging pain seized my body. No talisman, no true crucifix, no glow of true holy water could be seen.

What manner of being are you, I asked stepping back, the suggestion evaporated and she saw me as a creature of the night.

Ahhh, she shrieked stepped back and her hand searched, her pockets, I expected pepper spray.

I am so sorry, I took it, I didn’t believe the curse, I am so sorry please take it, she pleaded as she held forth a vial to me.

What is it, I asked with caution and took the vial with caution. I swear there was a glimpse, a spark of energy as our hands passed the vial.

Volcanic sand, I know you aren’t supposed to take the volcanic rocks or sand, but it was such a small amount, Geann pleaded, I opened the vial and poured some on my hand, it had a curious effect, my skin color darkened, tanned brown in slowly radiating circles from every grain of sand, I carefully poured the sand back into the vial.

The volcanic sand held my attention; I should have noticed the small glowing talisman, hanging in the valley of her generous tanned cleavage. The talisman was a small sharks tooth, glowing with a unique subtle red sheen. I should have noticed her breaking away, bolting back towards the bar. But I was fixed on this curious new clue, this curious new twist to the vampire lore, lore that I thought I knew all too well. There are more things on