Dark Resurrection

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  During the next months, Jesus and Mary stayed at the home of his parents. Various townsfolk began to disappear, quietly, as Jesus and consort walked the night, preying on his enemies, or at other times taking criminals lurking outside town. This pastime had become very lucrative for the pair. After feeding, Jesus would rob bodies before he dumped them, and at times would enter his vanquished enemies’ domiciles like a catburglar, so he could steal valuables.

  Adding more loot to his stash, one dark night after he murdered Samuel Bar Saklas, the town rabbi, and disposed of the body, Jesus broke into his house, looking about for items of value. Mary followed, closing the door behind them.

  Seeing a pair of silver menorahs on a small family altar, he grabbed them, dumped the unlit holy candles to the floor and slipped them into his robe.

  “Aren’t those rather large?” Mary whispered, looking for other valuable articles.

  “They’re made of silver; we can break them up and melt them down later.”

  The rabbi’s wife appeared from the bedroom, woke by the noise. Before she could utter a word, the Magdalene leapt upon her like a wildcat, sunk fangs in her neck and sucked her dry.

  “Now we have another body to get rid of!” Jesus exclaimed under his breath.

  “What did you want me to do, let her scream her head off?” asked Mary, dropping the corpse to the stone floor, “Besides, it’s drizzling outside, there’s no one around who will see us.”

  “True, hand me those gold goblets over there,” said Jesus, returning to his thievery. “Hey, there’s a box of money here too; please find a sack.”

  Mary walked to the bedroom. Finding a shelf, she grabbed a finely woven linen bedsheet imported from Egypt. Tying the corners together and making a suitable sack, she returned and handed her creation to Jesus, who dumped the booty in it as she retrieved and handed him the goblets.

  “You take the sack, I’ll get the body,” said Jesus, rolling the cadaver up in a rug.

  “Okay,” Mary replied, the couple slipping unnoticed from the house into the dark and rainy night. As the rug and body bounced down a steep ravine, she asked, “You didn’t mind me killing her did you?”

  “Not at all, she was a mean old bitch,” the vampiric Christ replied, walking from the brink.

  The Magdalene smiled and handed him the sack of loot, wondering how Jesus had been such a kind, generous man in life, especially when most people in his hometown were so arrogant and self-righteous.

  Night after night, Jesus continued in his depredations, slaughtering and robbing those who had wanted to stone him for blasphemy. Unknown to the prying Roman tax collectors, he found that many residents of Nazareth were loaded, hundreds of denarii and aurei stashed in their homes, he and Mary happily filling his sacks with their money. When morning approached, they would hide the loot in a nearby cave, return to his parent’s house and settle in for a good day’s sleep in a windowless storeroom next to the kitchen.

  Joseph grew used to their odd hours, and came to like Mary Magdalene, remarking one evening in the courtyard that had she and Jesus not been vampires, he would have approved of a marriage between them.

  “I don’t think vampires can get married,” said his mother.

  Joseph frowned at the crass statement and retorted, “I don’t think vampires need to get married woman, after all, they’re vampires!”

  “But what if they have vampire babies?” she asked.

  Joseph closed his eyes as if in pain and answered, “Forget it Mary, just forget it.”

  Jesus looked impassively to his mother, who had never been known to be particularly glib with regard to the world. Rising, she and the Magdalene headed into the house, leaving Joseph and Jesus alone in the courtyard. Joseph was drinking a glass of wine, while Jesus sat contemplating his undead existence.

  His reverie was broken by his father remarking, “Did you know your brother James is wandering about Jerusalem, preaching the good news?”

  “Good news, what’s that?”

  “Who knows, but he and some of your disciples are claiming that you rose from the dead as the Son of God,” Joseph answered, reaching for more wine.

  “Oh brother,” said Jesus, thinking of other tragedies the family might suffer thanks to his ministry, “I really screwed up telling them all that didn’t I?”

  “Maybe, but look at it this way son, you could have done worse, you could have said you were the son of Satan, or even a demon,” Joseph replied, staring up at the night sky.

  “I suppose,” said Jesus, frowning at the remark.