Vampire Cult Plagues Polk County

Polk: Officials announced a probe into the series of livestock deaths in Polk County. To date, twenty five cows have been found dead with all or most of their blood gone. All the carcasses have been found with their throats gashed across the jugular vein. In every case, officers found footsteps leading to, but not away from the scene.

     "We don't know what to make of it," said Polk County Sheriff's Deputy Orvil Putter. "We have been getting a report about every two weeks. At first we thought it was some kind of weird ritual like a blood sacrifice or something. Other times, when we have had satanic rituals around these parts there was a lot of blood at the scene. Now there is hardly any blood and footsteps don't lead away. It is like they just got up and flew. The farmers are up in arms." County enforcement officials have few leads in the case. Word of the possibility of vampires has gotten people on the neighboring farms concerned.

     "One time a farmer called in saying he saw someone lurking around in his milking barn. We got there and found his hired hand Elmo, pants down around his waist, getting his needs met by Gerdy, the farmer's prize Guernsey. We arrested him, but we still didn't have a vampire. Aside from this, there have been no other sightings."

     Meanwhile, a rumored vampire cult in Des Moines has some officials clandestinely investigating this as a case of supernatural foul play. "We heard that there are a lot of weirdos in Des Moines hanging out at the local coffee houses saying they're vampires," said Putter. The focus of the probe is the Cafe Noir in the heart of downtown.

     "We sent an undercover operative in there last week to launch the preliminary investigation. He reported seeing a lot of people walking around with tongues and noses pierced and midnight poetry readings in crypts. There were also a lot of people dressed in black, drinking espresso. He's seen some pretty hinky shit, " Putter said.

     I later spoke with the operative through a black screen to protect his identity.

     "I struck up a conversation with this lady named Jane. She was a regular at Cafe Noir. She was all dressed in black and seemed to writing something in a journal. I asked her about the coffee house and its patrons. She said there were a lot of people from all over. Later, she asked me if I wanted to walk through a graveyard. At first I declined, cause I thought she had something else in mind. After a few beers, I decided to accompany her."

     The imformant said that the lady from the coffee house led him to Mögel Municipal Cemetary in the heart of the city. "When we got there it was very dark, darker than I could ever describe. There was a lot of over growth on the fence surrounding the sprawling field. Once inside, I could see all the old tombstones jutting out of the ground at odd angles. A few of them had been pushed off their bases by vandals.

     She led me along a winding path lined with sputtering old gaslights into the gloomy city of stones. As we pressed further, I could feel my heart pounding with fright. In the glow of the old gaslights, she took on an eerie appearence. At times it seemed as if she floated above the cobble stones instead of walking. The shadows hid her face from me as I struggled to see in the gloomy shadows. From time to time, she looked over her shoulder to see if I was still with her and each time, I smiled back.

     My senses were very alert; I could hear crickets chirping, cars driving from far away and I could almost hear the faint sounds of voices coming from houses surrounding the cemetary. At least, I think they were coming from the houses. Everywhere I looked, I saw the memorials to lives past. Presently, we got to what I thought was the center of the acreage; a tall granite mausoleum with an old wrought iron gating on it. My guide pulled the creaking gate open and then motioned for me to follow. I paused, swallowed my fear and walked inside.

     In the center of the leaf covered floor was a small fire lit in a coffee can. The light danced on the brass and marbel vault faces. In the perifery of the light I could see that we were not alone. Ominous personages stepped from the shadows into the flickering glow.

     'Who is he,' asked the first person I saw. He was a tall man, about six feet or so. He, too, was dressed in black. I could see something twinkling in his left nostril. I guessed, quite rightly that it was a peg attached a chain and further attached to a matching peg in his left ear. My guide looked at me. I could see her face more clearly now, though it was still bathed in shadows. 'I brought him along. He seems like fun.'

     The man's eyes looked frightfully red in the firelight of the mauseleum as he looked me over from head to toe. When he got to my eyes, he seemed to look right through me. The stare frightened me further.

     'So, what do you all do here?' I asked. I was worried that my question might be too direct, too purposeful. Other people seemed to appear from nowhere in the tight space of the crypt. They seemed to surround me, envelope me in their own darkness. Despite the cool of the evening, I began to sweat.

     The man paused, still scanning me. 'We are doing a little poetry reading, care to join us?'

     My guide slid down the wall into a low squat and motioned for me to join her. I moved cautiously to her side and kneeled down. Others in the space retreated back into the shadows and I could hear the rustling of clothes as they settled into place to listen. The man I first encountered reached into his black jacket and pulled out a weathered sheet of paper. He cleared his voice and began... 'I call this one Blood Song...'

    The warmth
     so fluid, so loving, so romantic
     I drink it into my very being
     into my dead heart
     into my dead fingers, cold these many years
     it is like a song
     ringing through my dead system
     my dead ears
     bringing rapture to my dead heart

     As he read, my pounding heart eased. When he completed his poem, I started clapping but soon realized I was the only one and abruptly stopped. A few more people read from their poems, appearing out of the darkness almost if by magic. Each reading was met by deafening silence. My thoughts were of my own experience with poetry; the awkward hiku I was forced to write as a youngster and the classics of Dr. Suess. I wondered why the poems of the readers didn't rhyme. I like poems that rhyme. The whole thing seemed like a waste of time. I figured they must not be good poets.

     All at once, as if on cue the gathering rose and walked out of the crypt. My guide waited, still kneeling. After all had gone, we to stepped out just seconds after the last. Outside,there was no one in sight. I heard no footfalls in the distance. Just silence. Spooky."

     The operative visited the site later in the light of day to get a better look. "The place seemed really small in the daylight. I could see where the people came from. It seemed like there was more room that night." Further unaccompanyied midnight forays to the crypt have proved fruitless. " I guess they aren't reading poetry there anymore."

     So far the operative has spent a week in Cafe Noir and has identified several possible suspects in the case. "Some of the poets that frequent the establishment are very strange. They keep weird hours and don't come out during the day," said Deputy Putter.

     In addition to the suspects, the operative has also noted strange beers and ales for sale. One is called Milchku Blüt Red Ale. "Milchku Blüt" is German for "Milkcow's blood".

     Cats and dogs are beginning to go missing in the area. This may be part of the cult case too," said Deputy Putter. "Something's going to have break soon. It may be only a matter of time until these weirdos start feeding on humans."