Midnight Archive: The Vampire's Holy Water

Father Daniel had seen many relics in his parish’s dusty archive, but none like the Holy Water glass bottle tucked behind a cracked hymnbook.

Its faded gold gilded details, etched with a cross, shimmered with an eerie golden glow under moonlight, and the tarnished stopper gleamed like a fang.

The Midnight Archive crew labeled the haunted holy water bottle Artifact #17.

This bottle was a holy water vessel wielded by 19th-century priests to banish vampires. Father Daniel, a skeptic of such tales, chuckled at its label, which read, “Property of Father Anselm, 1847.” He uncorked it, expecting stale water, but instead a voice hissed, “Thirsty, are we, mortal?”.

The air chilled, and his shadow flickered with bat-like wings. “My stars!” Father Daniel gasped, recorking it fast. Thus began the curse that would unravel his quiet life in St. Agnes’ parish.

The bottle’s glow pulsed nightly, casting shadows across his rectory walls. Father Daniel, a practical man and priest, dismissed it as a trick of the light, but his dreams filled with crimson eyes and laughter sharp as shattered glass.

He researched Father Anselm, finding journals in the parish attic—cobwebbed and dark. Anselm, a vampire hunter, had crafted the bottle in 1847, infusing it with holy water blessed under a blood moon. It didn’t just banish vampires; it trapped their essence, turning their ashes into a sentient force bound to the glass.

Anselm’s final entry warned: “The Chalice thirsts for more than blood—guard your soul.”

Father Daniel scoffed, but the bottle had other plans...

One evening, as he prepared for Mass, it uncorked itself, spilling a single drop. The drop sizzled on the floor, and a figure materialized—a gaunt man in a tattered cassock, eyes glowing red. “Oh, Father, your sermons are dreadfully dull!” it sneered.

Father Daniel swung his rosary, but the figure dissolved into ash, reforming inside the bottle’s glass, smirking. “Call me Viktor,” it said. “I’m your new… assistant.” Each night, Viktor appeared, taunting Daniel with quips: “That chalice wine? Poor vintage!” or “Your flock’s souls are ripe for picking!” Shadows swarmed the church, mimicking parishioners, their whispers echoing Viktor’s laughter.

Desperate, Father Daniel tried to destroy the bottle.

He doused it with black salt—Viktor cackled, “Seasoning won’t help!”

He buried it in consecrated ground—but it glowed through the dirt, summoning bats.

He locked it in a safe, but it rattled like a caged animal.

Parishioners noticed changes in Father Daniel: his sermons grew frantic, his eyes bloodshot. Mrs. Connolly swore she saw him sprout fangs during Communion.

“Gracious!” Father Daniel yelped, checking his mirror—no reflection. The bottle’s glow now pulsed in his veins, and his shadow wore Viktor’s smirk, twirling a spectral cane.

Anselm’s journal revealed the truth: the holy water bottle didn’t just trap vampires—it corrupted its keeper and kept their soul trapped inside.

Viktor, a vampire priest Anselm had vanquished, sought a new host. Daniel’s skepticism had weakened his faith, making him easy prey. One midnight, as the church bell tolled, Viktor’s voice boomed, “Time for your ordination, Father!”

The bottle shattered, and ashes swirled, coiling around Daniel’s heart. He clawed at his chest, but his hands moved under Viktor’s will, tracing crosses in the air. Shadows of past vampires—Anselm’s victims—danced in the pews, chanting, “Welcome, brother!”

Daniel fled to the attic, clutching Anselm’s rosary. He prayed, but the words twisted into Viktor’s laughter. His shadow now led, dragging him to the altar. “Oh, Father, you’re a natural!” Viktor cooed, as Daniel’s hands poured wine that smelled of blood. The congregation arrived, unaware, their faces blurring into crimson eyes. Daniel’s last act was to hurl the rosary at the altar’s cross, shattering the bottle’s hold. The ashes screamed, collapsing into a pile, and Viktor’s form vanished. The church fell silent, but Daniel’s shadow was gone.

The Midnight Archive crew recovered the bottle from the parish. It’s locked in a museum case, but at midnight, you can hear a faint whisper, “Are you thirsty?”.

☞ The Midnight Archive warns: never uncork the Vampire's Holy Water Bottle unless you’re thirsty to serve a darker force.

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