Final Page: The Bloodening
In the second instalment (see previous instalments here) of my ‘Final Page’ series, I now present the last page of my horror novel ‘The Bloodening’. First published in 1973, it is still regarded by many as the most frightening book ever written; several people died within forty years of reading it, and I can’t help but feel responsible (natural causes? Give me a break).
Though the book sold fewer than twenty-three copies (eighteen fewer, in fact), critically it was a smash. Examine the following testimonials:
“….not….a mess, from start to finish…written by…a man…” — Daniel Jones, The Irish Times.
“….I could…make head nor tail of it” — Joanne Lancaster, The Independent
“…a miracle…made…light of day…and…Stephen King is sh*tting himself” — Don O’Brien, The Literary Review
A final warning. This tale makes The Exorcist look like an episode of Barney the Dinosaur, so don’t be a hero. Please, read it responsibly, with the lights on and armed with a machete. Enjoy!
THE BLOODENING
By
Flann O’Coonassa
Page 341 of 341
…that he’d crunched the numbers, and a Rick Astley tribute band simply wasn’t financially viable,” said Lucy.
“I don’t think this is the time, or the place,” replied Max, warding off the closest vampire with his makeshift crucifix of twin toilet brushes.
The moon was full, bathing the castle courtyard in a dull blue glow. Max checked the alignment of his toilet brushes to ensure they criss-crossed at appropriate right-angles to qualify as a crucifix. Lucy loaded a fresh clip into her M16 fully-automatic machine gun. Neither was ready to go down easy.
Lucy pressed her back against Max’s. What were the bastards waiting for? Who would attack first? Wolfman? Frankenstein’s monster? Medussa? The hungry T-Rex? Dracula? Or perhaps the escaped mental patient? Max hoped it would be the escaped mental patient, because he had no supernatural powers and was pretty much a sitting duck in his straitjacket.
“Transylvanian package holiday my ass,” spat Max, taking the brochure from his back pocket and flinging it to the ground.
“I’m scared,” said Lucy.
“Why?” said Max.
“Because…because we’re going to die.”
“I was being sarcastic,” replied Max.
Just when all seemed lost, the unmistakable sound of a 1964 Harley Davidson ruptured the night air. It was Bruce, the Vampire Hunter. He’d come back, just like he promised. Ramping over the drawbridge and into the courtyard, he circled the monsters, revving the engine and swinging his trusty mace above his head. Max and Lucy punched the air with excitement.
Leaning back, Bruce accelerated his bike full-throttle to instigate a wheelie. Unfortunately, the acceleration was excessive, and he drove straight into the nearest wall at high speed.
“Bruce, no,” cried Lucy.
“He’s gone,” said Max, restraining her from running to him.
“No I’m not,” said Bruce.
“He’s alive,” cried Lucy.
“We can’t help him now,” said Max.
“Yes you can,” said Bruce calmly.
Dracula made short work of Bruce in his weakened state, beating him to death with the detached handlebars of his own bike. The killing took little more than an hour, during which Lucy never opened her eyes.
“You’ll pay for what you did to Bruce,” said Max.
“Who’s Bruce?” asked Dracula.
“That guy,” said Max, pointing to Bruce’s mangled carcass.
“That’s Bruce?”
“Yes.”
“Bruce Steel?”
“Yes.”
“Bruce Steel, The Vampire Hunter?”.
“Yes.”
“Ok,” said Dracula, throwing his eyes up to heaven.
The monsters tightened the cordon, encroaching ever closer. The bloodening was nigh.
“You know,” said Max, “I always regretted not asking you out Lucy. I came close so many times, but something always held me back. Maybe it was how you still seemed to be grieving for Danny.”
“Well, he only died on Thursday…,” said Lucy.
“I know, I know,” said Max.
“…and he was your son,” said Lucy.
“I know, but still. Do you ever wonder? What might have been between us?”
“Honestly? Not really. I like you as a friend, but I don’t find you remotely sexually attractive,” said Lucy.
“Oh. Well, this is awkward,” said Max.
“A little,” said Lucy.
“Hey Dracula,” bellowed Max, changing the subject to alleviate some tension, “your fangs are crooked. Don’t you floss?”
The monsters descended upon Lucy and Max. The bloodening was swift, and surprisingly bloody for a bloodening, which despite the misleading name, was usually a pretty clean, neck-breaking affair. No trace of the pair was ever found, except for Lucy’s spleen, scalp and right arm, and Max’s brain, left testicle and bladder.
Legend has it that Lucy and Max can still be seen, wandering the Transylvanian moors on a misty night. It’s a stupid legend, because they’re both dead, and even in the context of vampires and werewolves, spectral ghosts are an absurdity.
Of Bruce, the Vampire Hunter, the villagers insist he survived the bloodening and still patrols the countryside, fighting against the undead hordes. Again, that’s just stupid, because he was violently bludgeoned to death in an instance of sustained, blunt-force trauma.
THE END
I don’t believe your reviews. They’ve obviously been written by William Shatner, and as we all know, he’s a whore that will do anything for money.
But other than that, excellent work, carry on.
How much did you get for the movie rights?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Kept hearing the ex-king of pop singing “It’s close to miiiiiinigh hiheight”. sort of ruined it for me
Fat Sparrow, any novelist claims they aren’t heavily influenced by Shatner, is a liar. My dream is to write and direct a biopic of Shatner. I’ve approached David Hasselhoff to play Shatner, and he’s on board.
Galwaywegian, similar to the global downturn, I’d say it’ll be 4 to 6 years before we slither from beneath the pall of Jackson’s demise. I have literally slept not one wink since he moonwalked to that big Neverland in the sky.
Hola Flann!
Was all very scary and proof of what happen when you mess with Statanic forces. But the ending would be better if you have Jesus come down and lay waste to the m all with his superpowers.
Is only my opinion of course, but it is the correct one.
Besos
Manuel
They were fighting in a Mall ? I thought it was Transylvania!!
Manuel, you could argue that JC was playing an unseen puppeteer, and that any goodness in the novel was the fruit of his invisible machinations. It’s horse manure, but I have no problem with anybody saying it…
Swe.Ge, the denouement took place in a Transylvanian castle courtyard. That said, there was a Starbucks, two Eddie Rockets, and one of those poxy buskers who paints himself up and just stands there like a fuckin eeejit all day.
Poxy buskers? I thought they were ladyboys!
Some are ladyboys Galwaywegian. Others are ladies who’ve had Adam’s Apple implants for reasons undisclosed.
Sweary is right. You are a talented bastard. You’re going on the list. The list of people I must
killwatch.Cheers Kevin. I’ve been silently lurking around your site too,
stealingabsorbing all the great advice on script writing. I too have you on mykillframepush into the lion enclosure at Dublin Zoowatch list.Go for it. You and Sweary would make fantastic screenwriters. Sweary won’t listen, though. Petulant bitch.
Yeah, well, at least I haven’t AGED BEFORE MY TIME.
My gray hair makes me seksi! Seksi! At least I have all me teeth!
I too have all my teeth, and a few that aren’t mine, along with some other ‘trophies’ that I’d rather not elaborate upon.
Ha!
Seriously, write a script. Ireland needs more entertaining screenwriters and not ones stuck up their own socially conscious arse.
… like that Kevin Lehane.
Hoho!
Ha!
NOT! (<– Look, it’s 1994 again!)
I have a query, in page twenty three Dracula threw Bruce down into the bottomless pit with such force that he actually reached the bottom. Though I have no doubt that this minor plot-hole was plastered over later on in the text I seem to have missed it on my first reading. And, frankly, am too scared to pick the book up again and check. Any help?
Well I thought it was lovely. I particularly liked the juxtaposition between…hang on, I’ve never actually used the word juxtaposition before. Did I spell it right? I don’t think I know what it means. It’s a fun word to say though. Oh, right, hurrah! for the ‘crucifix of twin toilet brushes’. Lovely.
Rua:The bottomless pit plot hole was explained on page 46.
“Bruce,” cried Lucy, “you’re alive. Didn’t you fall down the bottomless pit?”
“No,” replied Bruce. “No I didn’t.”
Absolutely seamless.
Wellington, a little known fact about the word ‘juxtaposition’, is that 4% of the population cannot pronounce it without swallowing their tongue on the third syllable. My first wife died trying to pronounce it. She was also being mauled by a lion at the time, so it’s impossible to tell whether the cat or the pronunciation dealt the fatal blow.
ah! Genius.