Paranormal Recon

🦇BIBLICAL HORROR ANYONE?!

From the novel Blades of Glass, by Rudy Stankowitz, available on Amazon.

Chapter 20
Darkness and Doubt

“Father David?”
“Yes?”
“The congregation,” the deacon began, “Well, the pews are all full.”
Father David peered from the gospel side of the sacristy, taking in the packed nave. The pews were indeed full, with many members standing in the back and quite a few more spilling into the narthex. The outside doors continued to open as more people crowded into the vestibule. They were all hoping to get into the central part of the church, content to be in the building before the mass began.
“When horror settles on a community, the church fills with many faces we haven’t seen in some time,” the Catholic priest remarked as he stepped into the apse.

The organist led the congregation in "Give Thanks to the Lord" from Psalm 98 as Father David began his processional. The packed church rose to their feet, welcoming the priest and the presence of Jesus. Interspersed among the crowd, senior members chanted the ancient hymn "Gaudeamus Omnes in Domino." Their voices blended with the organ, creating a solemn yet uplifting atmosphere.

“The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the Communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you,” Father David greeted his congregation, quoting Saint Paul’s letter to the Church of Corinth.

“And also with you,” the response echoed throughout the house of prayer.

As the ushers delivered the collection plates down the center aisle, a mother in the front row fished through her purse for coins to give to each of her three children, encouraging their participation. An older gentleman removed a crumpled bill from his wallet and placed it on the plate. Still, before passing it along, he discreetly took four one-dollar bills and tucked them away in his shirt pocket. His wife jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, admonishing him for making change out of the tithes and offerings.

“I see many faces here that I have not seen in quite some time,” Father David began as he stepped into the pulpit. “I know our city is facing darkness, and I know that this darkness is the reason for your attendance after what, in some cases, may have been a fairly long absence. I am not calling anyone out, but we missed you. God missed you. Yet, you knew that no matter how long you had been away, the Father would rejoice in your return. In Luke 15:11-32, Jesus shares the parable of the lost son and the loving Father.”
“I’m not going to tell the story now. You already know it. I am happy you are here, no matter the reason,” Father David continued. “Now, I have seen the news.” The priest paused for a moment. “You didn’t know that priests watch the news, did you? You would think we hear all we need in the confessional,” he joked, winking at his parishioners.

“Today, I wanted to read from Leviticus,” the holy man explained, “for there are laws against the atrocities our city now suffers.” Father David paused, his voice growing more solemn.

“Yahweh spoke to Moses and told him to deliver his message, forbidding anyone of the houses of Israel, or the strangers who sojourned among them, to eat any blood.” He looked down and read directly from the Bible, Leviticus: “I will set my face against that person who eats blood and will cut him off from among his people. For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it for you on the altar to make atonement for your souls, for it is the blood that makes atonement by the life. Therefore, I have said to the people of Israel, no person among you shall eat blood, neither shall any stranger who sojourns among you eat blood.”

Father David looked up at his congregation, who silently hung on every word. “Any one of the people of Israel, or the strangers who sojourn among them, who takes in hunting any beast or bird shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth. For the life of every creature is its blood; its blood is its life. Therefore, I have said to the people of Israel, you shall not eat the blood of any creature, for the life of every creature is its blood. Whoever eats it shall be cut off.”
“You see, the Lord did not want man to eat blood. He may eat the animals, but he must not eat the blood. He may eat the flesh, but the blood was the life of the animal, and God did not want man to eat the animal’s life,” Father David explained. “In Proverbs 30, the words of Agur, son of Jakeh the Massaite, speak of the evil in man and his unworthiness of God. He states that there are some whose teeth are swords or knives that would devour those in need from the earth and people with low incomes from the human race. You see that God condemns this man who would both eat blood and prey upon fellow man.”

“But, even with this, knowing that we, his children, would face horrors and our faith put to the test, God tells us he has our back,” the priest smiled and looked around the room. “God has our backs!” he shouted. “Psalm 27: The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? Whom shall I fear? If the Lord is your light and your salvation, you have no one to fear; that is what this means. How could you possibly fear anyone or anything if the Lord is your light?”

Reynolds closed the hard-covered hymnal and placed it back in the wooden rack to the pew before him. The Mass had not officially ended, but he intended to leave before the Communion and the Sign of Peace. The cop had not been to church in many years, not since the passing of his wife, and he had felt the priest’s eyes upon him as he addressed those he had not seen in years at the beginning of mass. He knew he was probably self-conscious and a bit paranoid. Still, the officer had drifted far from the church and all religion since he had lost his Emma.

Shuffling past an older couple into the central aisle, the middle-aged public servant genuflected and crossed himself. Just before stepping into the narthex, he paused. There, beside the door, was the font containing holy water. Thoughts of collecting the blessed liquid in a bottle or Ziploc bag ran through his mind, but he shook his head, dismissing them just as quickly, and exited past the crowd.
🚓
Jack Rhodes stood on the sidewalk alongside his bike, parked neatly at the curb. The glow from the streetlight reflected off the tank’s factory-painted hot rod flames, giving the motorcycle an eerie sheen. The engine emitted a soft tik-tik-tik as it began to cool. Rhodes unsnapped his fingerless gloves, the molded plastic protecting his knuckles. He carefully removed one glove at a time and placed them into the saddlebags.

“Midnight,” Rhodes said softly, glancing at his wristwatch. “Almost forgot,” he added, unfastening the buckle and slipping the timepiece into his pocket. The detective sat sideways on his bike’s seat, legs crossed at the ankles, resting one boot heel on the curb. He looked up at the neon sign above the country music club, watching as the spotlight lured a moth into a frenzied dance.
The moth, confused and disoriented by the artificial glow, flew around the incandescent lamp in erratic patterns.

“Seriously?” Loretta asked, drawing Rhodes’ attention away from the winged insect. “A country club?” The medical examiner seemed slightly disturbed as she looked at the saloon-style doors, the name “Saddle Up” embossed in gold lettering above the entrance.
Rhodes chuckled, but seeing his ex-wife in her current attire made him pause. Loretta’s tall, shapely silhouette was adorned in a black ghost crepe gown with a plunging neckline and a high slit, revealing one of her black leather peep-toe pumps. Her long, dark hair was styled into a bouffant half-updo, her eyes dramatically made up, her lips coated in deep ruby red.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” Loretta directed, noticing his gaze lingering on her cleavage.

“Oh, yeah,” Rhodes snapped back to reality. “We’re not going in there,” he explained, pointing to a narrow concrete stairwell descending beneath the country music nightclub.

“What a relief,” Loretta said. “I was starting to think you had me dress up like Elvira to take me line dancing.”

“Jack Rhodes don’t dance,” he replied.

“How could I forget?”

“We’re not here on a date.”

“Awww, you remembered,” she said, dripping with sarcasm. “That’s the same thing you said on our wedding night.”

“I needed someone I could trust,” Rhodes explained. “I think we have a mole at the station. That saliva thing—I don’t know how that got out.”

“I can’t believe you still have that thing,” she said, referring to his motorcycle.

“She’s in the garage mostly,” he replied. “But she gets out now and then.”

Click. Click.
The strange noise on such a quiet night made Rhodes look up. His eyes found the sign that drew his glance as a small evening bat swooped in, snatching the moth from the air and disappearing into the night.

“Looks like we have the same problem,” Jack said to the now-absent nocturnal bug.

“Huh?” Loretta asked.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Loretta ducked beneath the sign that read “FANG” in bright red neon and descended the stairwell ahead of Rhodes. The door was solid black with a silver skull mounted to the doorjamb. The club's interior was dimly lit, with various red and black accents. Plush velvet couches lined the walls, and a long bar ran the length of one side, with a line of stools, each resembling an upside-down tombstone.

“Nice décor,” Loretta commented, surveying the room.
“We’re in good hands,” Rhodes replied, his voice tinged with caution.

A slender woman with striking features and long, flowing hair approached them. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit that accentuated her figure, exuding an air of authority.

“Welcome to FANG,” she said in her silken voice. “I’m Jules Johnson, the owner. How can I assist you tonight?”

“We need information,” Rhodes said, his tone straightforward.
Jules’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Information is a commodity here, Officer Rhodes,” she replied, emphasizing the title in a your-cover-is-blown kind of tone based upon her read of his stature.
“Jack,” he corrected.

“Very well, Jack,” she said with a slight smile. “What sort of information are you seeking?”

“Something’s going on in the city,” Rhodes began. “People are turning up dead, and we’re looking for a connection.”

Jules’s expression grew serious. “You’re referring to the recent... disturbances?”

“Exactly,” Rhodes confirmed. “We need to know what’s happening and who’s involved.”

The club owner nodded slowly. “I may have some information that could be useful, but it comes at a price.”

“What do you want?” Loretta asked, her tone guarded.

The woman’s smile returned, this time more predatory. “A favor for a favor. I help you, and in return, you owe me one.”

Rhodes exchanged a glance with Loretta. “Agreed,” he said.
Jules Johnson extended her hand, and Rhodes shook it, sealing the deal. “Follow me,” she said, leading them to a secluded booth at the back of the club.

As they sat down, the bar owner began to speak. “There are rumors of a new player in town, someone or something that’s not quite... human.”

Rhodes and Loretta listened intently as Jules detailed the whispers she had heard. A figure moving in the shadows, leaving a trail of blood and fear. Someone with an insatiable hunger that couldn’t be quenched by ordinary means.

“What do you mean, ‘not quite human’?” Loretta asked.
The publican leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with intensity. “Vampires,” she whispered. “Real ones, not the myths. And they’re hunting.”

The weight of her words hung in the air, and Rhodes felt a chill run down his spine. This was beyond anything he had encountered before, and it was only the beginning.

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In Chapter 18 of Blades of Glass, the line between psychological trauma and supernatural terror begins to fracture completely.

Officer Grady Reynolds sits alone inside O’Leary’s, a dimly lit cop bar filled with ghosts of memory and stale whiskey-soaked regrets. Still grieving the loss of Emma, Reynolds finds himself drawn into an unsettling conversation with Detective Rhodes about vampires, folklore, and the terrifying possibility that mythology may simply be humanity trying to explain monsters it does not understand. What begins as sarcastic banter slowly transforms into something darker as ancient legends, Lilith, Dracula, and blood rituals collide with the very real murders haunting Lewisville.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away beneath the frozen skies of Alaska, Willow and Lacey’s search for the Northern Lights turns into a waking nightmare. Sleep paralysis. Missing time. Scratching at the door. A shadowy bald man from Willow’s past encounters suddenly reappears in the most impossible place imaginable. When Lacey opens the hotel room door and finds Willow half-frozen outside in the darkness, the question becomes unavoidable:

Did Willow experience a hallucination… or was something truly following them?

As the chapter unfolds, the media frenzy surrounding the Lewisville murders escalates. A police sketch hits the airwaves. The entire town begins searching for a monster hiding in plain sight.

This episode explores grief, folklore, paranoia, sleep paralysis, and the terrifying psychology of belief. Because sometimes the scariest thing isn’t whether monsters exist…

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Blades of Glass: A Town Stained in Silence is a Twisted Chapters True Crime Original, written and adapted from the novel Blades of Glass by Rudy Stankowitz available on Amazon. This episode was produced by Joy Riddle, mixed by Cleo Hatshesup, and executive produced by Doodle & Lizzie Borden. For full transcripts and bonus content, click the sow notes Donna Keath

Blades of Glass Chapter 18: “Over Halfway to Hell” - Twisted Chapters In Chapter 18 of Blades of Glass, the line between psychological trauma and supernatural terror begins to fracture completely. Officer Grady Reynolds sits alone inside O’Leary’s, a dimly lit cop bar filled with ghosts of memory and stale whis...