The Legend of Malachi Blood

Supernatural Stories | Jun 23, 2012 | 12 min read
16 Votes, average: 3 out of 5
Supernatural Stories

The Legend of Malachi Blood

joey webb
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Matt Youngblood was an above average swimmer with above average intelligence in high school. Blessed with striking good looks and a positive attitude, Matt was well liked by everyone. The ladies in particular took a shine to the handsome, part Cherokee youth.
Now 20, Matt is an standout student at Weston Community College in Weston, North Carolina. His professors are unanimously impressed with his thirst for knowledge. Once he puts his mind to achieving something, Matt is often a young man possessed.
Being possessed runs in Matt's family, in more ways than one. His great, great grandmother was banished from her tribe. They believed she was impregnated by an evil spirit in the guise of a man.
Nothing short of demonic possession could possibly explain the later actions of the child she gave birth to in the winter of 1880. Despite his mother's assumption he was fathered by a Cherokee man, young Malachi Youngblood was as white as snow. She, along with the townsfolk of Weston who sometimes visited her shanty in the woods, were often frightened by the boy. He was never sick and never cried. It was thought by everyone for a time that he was deaf and dumb. He didn't seem to respond to his mother's voice and started talking late.
After being shunned by her people, Atoya Youngblood took her son to live with an elderly and extremely religious white couple. It was the lady who served as midwife, Isabelle Morton, who suggested the name Malachi. She persuaded her husband Troy to allow the young mother and her son to live with them. Four short years later, both of the Mortons would be dead.
"Matt?" Brenda is tall with short cropped hair and sad, brown eyes. "Do you love me?" she asks.
"I don't know if there's such a thing as love," comes his melancholy reply. Matt is nervous around Brenda, which is a rarity for him. "Maybe it's just some kind of chemical reaction to pheromones. I'm not sure there is any validity to the word emotion."
Brenda's frustration and disappointment are visibly apparent. She puts her arm around him. "Matt, you poor thing. Don't you believe your parents loved you?"
This is a sore subject for Matt. He pulls away from her touch. "No. I know that they didn't love me. My mother dumped me on my grandmother. My father only loved the bottle. Neither one of them ever did an unselfish thing in their lives."
Brenda regrets bringing it up. She knows Matt like she knows herself. She knows that underneath the smiles are pain and regret. She wants to put her arm back around him, but pulls back. "I'm sorry, Matt. Forget I mentioned it."
"How can I forget?" he sighs. "Sometimes I think I'm cursed or something."
"Malachi Blood! I curse you and all your bloodline for eternity! May you burn in Hell!" The dying Elijah Weston spits blood in the general direction of the smirking Malachi.
"Curse? My poor Eli, I was put here cursed. I'm the son of a devil and a whore, heathen outcast. I was born under a dark star and a full moon. You curse me? You are far too late..."
Elijah Weston, whose father Adam founded the town of Weston, North Carolina, dies at the hands of Malachi Blood, as the locals have taken to calling him. Eli isn't the first and he won't be the last.
Troy Morton was the first. The old man injured himself while chopping wood. He insisted Malachi approached him with a snarling wolf by his side. Troy had tried to kill the wolf, but missed. The axe cut his leg, severely injuring him. The infected wound led to his death.
Isabelle Morton died a week later. Young Malachi had wandered off and no one could find him. Isabelle was killed while searching when lightning hit a tree, yet there was no storm. A branch fell and crushed her, a witness said. Malachi was seen standing a few yards away from her dead body.
Rumors that the child was cursed and caused both deaths began circulating. He would be more directly linked to the next death, that of his own mother!
Matt Youngblood abhors violence. He has never been in a fight with anyone, yet here he is surrounded by three bullies.
"What's the matter? Scared?" asks the leader of the trio. He is a few years older than Matt. He has the physique of a football player and a face even his mother might have trouble loving. "Well?"
"If you're trying to goad me into a fight, you better come up with more original material than that," Matt chastises, showing his perfect, white smile. "I'm betting you will insult my mother next, right?"
What started as a two-on-two basketball game quickly deteriorated as Matt showed up his cocky opponents. It turned into three threatening one, but surprisingly Matt wasn't the least bit scared or nervous. This was perceived by the bullies as arrogance and served to infuriate them that much more.
The largest bully charges Matt, who simply sidesteps him, sending him sprawling. One of the others sucker punches Matt. Blood flies as the blow hits home. Matt checks his split lip. His white teeth are now crimson with his own blood.
"That was a mistake, friend," Matt warns. His smile belies the rage that is building quickly within. "Now it's my turn."
In the blink of an eye, the sucker puncher is unconscious on his back. The third antagonist backs away with hands raised. Meanwhile, the leader has made it back to his feet.
Matt dispatches the largest bully with a single punch. Youngblood calmly turns around and walks to his car that is parked nearby.
Atoya Youngblood did what she could for young Malachi. She sent him to school in Weston, read from the bible to him every night and tried to teach him right from wrong. Nothing she said or did could save his seemingly damned soul. Murder and evil were his destiny.
The winter of 1893 in Weston was an especially harsh one. Over two feet of snow had fallen when Atoya fell ill. The local doctor trudged to the out of the way cabin the Youngbloods had returned to in the woods. Molly Saunders, Atoya's best friend also stopped by the cabin daily. For his part, Malachi was indifferent. He stopped going to school, but actually picked up the slack on the chores Atoya once did. His main chore, however, was making sure Atoya never recovered.
Matt can't believe his eyes. Surely this is some horrible nightmare. All he can do is stare at the pretty news anchor as she reports the ghastly event on television.
"The three victims, 23 year old Reggie Burkehead, 22 year old Sam Lewis and 18 year old Timothy Stevens were pronounced dead on arrival at Cedar Pine Hospital in Weston. The circumstances are being withheld, but Police Chief Grady did offer this statement."
"There is no doubt foul play was involved," the Chief says as he chews on his cigar. "That is all we can say for now."
"And in other news..." Click.
Matt feels like he's been kicked in the stomach, mouth and testicles all at once. These three were the bullies from the basketball game from less than 24 hours earlier. Matt slumps on his couch. A strange feeling overwhelms him...guilt.
The previous night, following the confrontation at the courts, Matt lies down. He is exhausted yet proud of his moral and physical victory over the bullies. He wouldn't get much sleep.
Malachi told the doctor he was sure he hadn't missed a dose. Each time Molly Saunders asked him he would swear the same thing. In reality, he would pour some of the medicine out and not give it to Atoya at all. Other times he would give her too much.
In a few short weeks, Atoya would be dead. She left her few possessions to her son. Molly had agreed to take Malachi in, as she had no children of her own. By doing so, Molly's fate would also be sealed.
Malachi was the model of obedience for the first few months. He started attending school regularly again. He did his homework and chores without complaint. Then he met Zeke Red Thorn.
Like Malachi, Zeke had been born to a Cherokee mother. Also like Malachi, he seemed born to do evil. Zeke's father, a white man, was a practitioner of witchcraft. He passed his knowledge of the forbidden arts to young Zeke. Malachi was ten years younger than Red Thorn. Zeke became a mentor to the equally diabolical Youngblood.
Matt had a terrifying dream the night before he heard about the deaths of the three bullies. At least he thought it was a dream at the time. It seemed so real and surreal, all at the same time.
In the dream Matt was driving back to the basketball courts. He wasn't sure why, but he had a large butcher knife in the passenger seat. He knew the bullies would still be there. Matt calmly exited his car and approached the trio with the knife concealed behind his back.
"Hey, we're sorry about before," the leader says as Matt approaches. "We don't want any more trouble."
"Funny how getting whipped can turn people into spineless cowards, huh?" Matt sneers. He is surprised by how sinister his voice sounds. It's not even his voice, or so it seems. "I don't want any more trouble either. That's why I'm eliminating a few troublemakers...permanently!"
Matt reveals the knife and one of the boys runs for the car. Matt stabs the ugly leader, who he later learns is Reggie Burkehead. Sam Lewis tries to run also, but Matt runs him down and tackles him. He slits his throat and blood spurts into Matt's face. The warm liquid seems to energize him.
The third bully, Tim Stevens, is trying desperately to locate the car keys to start it. Unfortunately for him, Reggie had them. Matt drags the terrified Tim out of the car. Youngblood stabs the youngster dozens of times with a mixture of pure rage and pure glee.
The trip back home is a blur. Matt looks at his blood covered face in the car's mirror. Suddenly, his face is replaced by that of a malevolent looking man. The reflection speaks.
"I am you! You are me!"
Matt reaches out to touch the reflection. The spectre vanishes. The mirror ripples as if made of water when Matt runs his fingers over it. A hand reaches out and grabs him by the wrist. He wakes up in a cold sweat.
Malachi lived with Molly Saunders for three years. During that time he killed six people. Victor Long drowned. Jeremiah Coon was found hanged. Joseph and Martha Marshall were found chopped to pieces with an axe. Their young son Lucas was strangled. Tabitha Sexton was poisoned.
A drifter was blamed and hanged for the Marshall family slayings. Jeremiah Coon's death was thought to be suicide. Victor and Tabitha's were called accidents. Malachi Blood, as Zeke was now calling him, seemed to have a guardian angel, or perhaps a devil, watching over him.
Zeke Red Thorn became Malachi's sole teacher. After dropping out of school for good, Blood spent hours at Zeke's hovel learning the blackest of the black arts. In addition to killing by conventional means, Malachi causes several deaths through unholy incantations. Teaching Malachi all of these things proved to be Zeke's undoing.
"Matthew Youngblood?" the burly police officer, who looks like he came straight off a television show, asks.
"Yes," Matt replies as his heart sinks to somewhere around his ankles.
"If you would come with me downtown..."
"Wait! What is this about?"
"Your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon used in the recent triple homicide at Warren Park."
"Hold on a minute! Am I under arrest?"
"I'm afraid so, son," the officer says somberly. "You have the right to remain silent..." The rest is just mumbling in the ears of Matt. Somewhere, he swears he hears the maniacal laughter of a man. "Do you understand, Mr. Youngblood?" Matt can only blankly nod to the inquiry.
"Malachi Youngblood, alias Malachi Blood, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers for the murder of Zeke Red Thorn. You have also confessed to the murders of 23 other people over the last 25 years!"
"Actually, judge, I lost count. It could've been 33. Hell, maybe it was 43," Malachi cackles. "I suppose you will never know."
Malachi was a chilling sight as he stood on the gallows in Weston. He seemed proud of himself. A crowd of hundreds came to watch the death of a killer that had terrorized them for decades.
"Is there anything you would like to say before you meet the Almighty?" the hangman asked the smirking Malachi.
"I know you're all expecting me to repent my sins before God. Know this! I am a god! I do not regret or repent. I curse thee all! I will return within a century hence. Woe be to the town of Weston then!"
The lever was pulled, releasing the trapdoor below. A murmur of fear and awe arose among the spectators. Malachi seemed to be smiling.
"We the jury find the defendant, Matthew Youngblood, guilty of the murder of Reggie Burkehead..." The rest is a formality. Matt is found guilty on all three counts.
Matt is thunderstruck. His sentence is life in prison. What about his plans? Marrying Brenda, finishing college and buying the white house on the hill would never happen now. Despite all the overwhelming evidence against him, Matt was hopeful that something would come to light to exonerate him. Despite the bizarre and realistic dream of the killings, he was sure deep down he wasn't capable of such a brutal crime.
Nearly a year would pass before Matt would see the outside again. While he was imprisoned, the murders would begin again. A man named Harry Joe Ringwald confesses to the crimes, as well as the murders of Burkehead, Lewis and Stevens. Nobody questions the evidence to the contrary. Ringwald is a child molester, petty thief, murderer and compulsive liar. He is a much more logical culprit than the clean cut, virtuous Matt Youngblood.
Matt also believes wholeheartedly in Ringwald's guilt. Perhaps he saw Matt's scuffle with the bullies from a distance. What better chance to frame him? As for the fingerprint covered knife, Matt ascertained that the master thief Ringwald stole it from Youngblood's house somehow. Then why would Ringwald let Matt sit in prison for nearly a year before killing again and then confessing? Matt reasoned that he got jealous of someone else getting credit for his 'work.' Little did Matt suspect something even more diabolical was afoot.
"Matt!" Brenda exclaims as she rushes into her boyfriend's arms. "I missed you so much! I just knew you didn't do it!"
Unlike Brenda, the old fashioned, conservative community of Weston aren't so forgiving. Despite his proved innocence, the people of the small community can't forget or forgive Matt for the fact that he put himself in such a position to begin with. Besides, hadn't he been in prison for a year? Perhaps the time behind bars had corrupted him.
Matt decides to leave Weston temporarily. Brenda wants to join him as soon as she finishes the semester. Matt readily agrees. Maybe they can go somewhere romantic so he can give her the ring he bought before his incarceration.
"Matt? I made you some soup," Brenda says cheerfully. "It's my aunt's favorite recipe." She looks extremely domestic for a 19 year old. She is wearing an apron and an old dress. "Now be honest and tell me if you like it, Matt."
Matt is sitting anxiously at the kitchen table. He samples some of the soup. "Mmmm! This is really good! What did you put in it?"
"Oh, a little of this and that. It's a closely guarded family secret. I wouldn't want word getting out." Brenda sweetly grins at Matt like a doting mother. "You really like it?"
"Yeah, but why aren't you having any?"
"I had a big lunch with some of the girls. They wouldn't shut up until I had some Chinese with them."
Brenda is cheerfully washing dishes when she hears the screams.
"Brenda, come quick!" Matt gasps from the sofa in the living room. "I think I'm having a heart attack!"
Brenda wipes her hands on her apron and casually strolls into the living room.
"Brenda, call 911! Hurry, I can't move!"
"Looks like Aunt Morgana's recipe is working like a charm! Chest pain followed by paralysis and in a few minutes...death!"
"What are you talking about, Brenda? You've gotta help me! What did you do to me?"
"The soup, dear Matthew," Brenda says coolly. "I told you it was a closely guarded family recipe, right? It was taught to my great aunt by her uncle. His name was Zeke Red Thorn!" Matt grows silent upon hearing the name. Brenda continues, "You see, young Matthew, I am a direct descendent of the infamous witch! I know you remember telling me about your black sheep ancestor Malachi Blood, don't you Matt? Well, he killed Zeke Red Thorn and his bloodline have been entrusted with avenging his murder. We are to kill the Youngbloods until there are none left!"
"No! Brenda, I loved you!" Matt is turning a sickly shade of green now. The poison is taking irreversible hold.
"You told me you didn't believe in love, remember? I tried to make it easy on you. Really I did. I didn't count on that lying bastard Ringwald getting you off the hook. The dream you had? That was my doing. Dear old Zeke taught his kin well before he died, just like he taught Malachi."
Foam spews from Matt's mouth like a rabid animal. His eyes roll back in his head and he dies in terrible pain. He is the last, the lone remaining link to the butcher that was known as Malachi Blood.
THE END

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