A vampire novel by Maciej Paterczyk. “Korngold”

Life is slowly returning to Warsaw, which was destroyed after the war. A number of mysterious crimes take place between the ruins and the ruins. People whisper to each other that this is the work of a vampire. Vampire hunter Jacob Korngold follows in his footsteps and falls into a cheap workers’ hotel. The hotel, where the basement is mined and the electricity is cut off, hides a dark secret. Korngold will have to open it to catch the bloodthirsty creature. Haven’t heard of Korngold? There is nothing unusual. Communist security and the Vampire Club did a lot to make him forget his name …

Korngold vampire is a multi-level novel about Nina’s duel, thanks to which we get to know the whole story and the vampire hunter. In this conflict, evil and darkness prevail. But he has not yet said the last word.

At least we hope …

To read a new novel Maciej Paterczyk invites Lira publishing house. Today we present the premiere parts of the book on our pages Korngold:


I’m this age and I can only look in the mirror when I need to. I’m looking now. Everything looks good and I shook my head with pleasure. I wonder, should I lower my hair? I opened my neck, cheekbones and neat ears and tied them tightly with a bun. Only my ears are not old. They are small, elegant, and almost transparent in the sun. It’s just that men don’t look at their ears.

If I lower my hair, I will have to comb them. I love combing my hair. When I was young, I would stand naked in front of a mirror and comb my hair all evening. When I reached my breasts, I admired them. As I grew my really long hair, the ends annoyed my straight belly, but never reached my pubic hair.

Most likely you’re huffing. I know you are easily confused. Especially when it comes to physicality and sex. It’s not your fault. The sin of the times you lived. This is how we often explain the behavior of our ancestors. But there is more to it than meets the eye.

I’m getting smarter. I embarrassed you, and now I remember. I started badly.

I tie my hair back. They are shorter and not as beautiful as before. When they melt, they do not even reach the cinema. Although I must admit that my breasts fell out noticeably. Can be they will arrive someday … I’m probably ashamed again. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.

Gets upset. When I’m nervous, I think about sex and smoking.

The problem is that I quit smoking a few years ago.

I’m calming down. I check everything again as planned. The windows seem closed. I close the front door and put on the chain. I put the key in the lock, turn it to the side so that the thief does not push it from the other side. I do not know if this is an effective method. I saw it in a movie. But it was an American thriller, so I’m not sure. A good source of knowledge up to the sheet. Or rather, the post office! I open the door and take out the chain, because that’s what I look in the mirror to make sure I can get out. And then I forgot about it. I began to remember my young, firm breasts, my stomach, and my very unchanged skirts. Like ears.

I’m going down the stairs. I open the mailbox. Accounts and advertising. I keep my eyes on the flyer, which presents “a real holiday for vampires.” I freeze in fear, but my eyes continue to follow the text. I’m calming down. This is an advertisement for a restaurant that specializes in bloody steaks. How can you eat a rare steak? My stomach hurts, my heart aches. Someone passes by and says, “Good morning.” Thoughtful, I do not react in time, I come back late. Answer in spite of everything? I am silent. Or maybe I haven’t heard “good morning”? I’m not a loved one on the stairs.

The front door opens and the second number enters. A young man in a fluffy jacket and a yellow hat, with beautiful long curly hair falling over his shoulders. He looks a bit like a snowboarder in American movies. In a short time, a scene from a movie comes to mind. A group of young people – this young man will be perfect – slide down the ski slope, hear loud music and for some reason the girls are screaming. I avoid watching such movies. I don’t like skiing. I don’t like loud music and girls screaming for joy. Although I love young people.

The young man looks at me for a long time. I’m trying to guess how old I am. He fails. No one succeeds. Some give me forty or fifty years. Some give me sixty or more. The boy decided that I was too old. The rude smile disappears from his face, and he still speaks this stupid “good morning” as if innocently, loudly and slowly.

It’s a pity that I sigh.

I’ll be back. I’m going up the stairs. stink. All the stairs in this world smell. I can smell meat, oil, polish and dust. Both dogs. They smell of wet hair. Once upon a time, there were stray cats in a cage. It was a lot of time worse. During our conversation, I will probably say that I hate someone. Then I will probably be nervous and angry. It seems that I am unfair in judgments. But I really hate dogs and cats. The dogs are still here. I write letters to residents’ cooperatives. I put complaints in mailboxes. When I was still teaching calligraphy, I wrote in beautiful handwriting because I was at school. No one appreciates it. No one responds to my letters.

I’m struggling to climb. Fifth floor. It sounds like a sentence to me. The elevator is working. It seems to me that they are not correcting me to upset me. Or is it better not to work? If it worked, I would have to drive it. The elevator looks like a small, narrow and vertical coffin. I’m afraid of coffins. Sometimes the elevator stops on the road and someone is squeezed, even if there is no space inside. And sharing a coffin with someone is scary and inconvenient.

I climb the stairs and escape the stench. The most difficult thing for me was to carry the smell of blood and death from the cage. I had to wait a week for someone to check on this old woman who lived on the first floor. At least the problem of stray cats and their nutrition has solved itself.

On the third floor, my knees are slightly bent. I’m looking for a chair, but it’s gone. I took the chair myself, but it was stolen. I wrote a letter about it and pasted it on the wall, but no one did he replied. I want to say that someone wrote an answer, but I will not say. Kufr.

I go back to my apartment and sit on the bed. Did I close the door? I connected. Did I turn the key so that a thief from outside would not enter? No, there will be no interference. Thieves steal bicycles outside the block, break shop windows, and break into basements, but for twenty years no one has robbed a widow under the age of thirteen, and still will. I tell myself this openly, but I know it doesn’t make sense. I get up, go to the hall, turn the key in the lock. As in the American movie.

I return to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, I list everything again: windows, doors, gas. Was I checking the gas? The gas is swirling, I’m sure. But knowing that the gas is dense is two different things to check. I’m going to the kitchen. The oven has not been used for several months and all buttons point to 0. Refrigerators hum quietly as needed. The tap is off. To be sure, I turn on the tap and turn it on again. A few drops fall and everything freezes. I open the cupboard on the sink and look at the medicine rack. I don’t know why, but keep checking because I’m already in the kitchen. Most medicine packs are empty. These are old pharmacy bottles with stoppers. Articles with names and usages have long since become obsolete. I find some ointment and open it, but I can’t smell it. Still, I know what I’m holding in a jar. If it was more than this ointment, the young man below would look at me more. It would give me less years. I could see more of his pleasant smile. If.

“Damn Dr. Zimmermann,” I whisper angrily.

I go back and sit on the hard bed. Apparently, I bought myself a hard bed. I don’t sleep there, but it’s so painful to sit. I’m starting to list everything again: windows, doors, gas, faucet. Did I really check the windows? Any? I get up immediately and check. I know I will.

I return to the bedroom in two minutes. The apartment is empty and quiet. The windows are tightly closed. I only smell dust. But dust is not a problem. It will not take me away from our thoughts and memories. We have a lot of time for ourselves. Yes, I used the plural on purpose. I remember you.

Are you ready I close my eyes. I’m moving to another location. I grab the handle of the antique door and open it with a soft click. Now I am in a dark room with a wooden floor. In front of me I see a beautiful fireplace and a few leather armchairs. In addition, there are shelves with books in the growing penumbra. Corridors full of books seem to run in all directions, intersect, narrow, sometimes widen, creating a real labyrinth. I smell paper and printing ink. Is there a better smell than the smell of floating around? browse books? Maybe the smell of coffee? Smoking? Yes, smoking! Sex? blood?

Yes, the smell of blood is the most beautiful.

The smell of sex … What’s so stupid about that? Why did I even think about sex? Nervous? According to that young man with open curly hair? I take two deep breaths to control myself and forget about it. Did I accidentally look at the medicine shelf, or did I want to take something out of the ointment package? See how much is left.

The library is disappearing. There is no smell of books, fireplace and pleasant leather chairs. The widow’s small apartment only smells of dust. I swear like never before before people. I have to focus and control myself. If I think about many things, the door of the library will remain closed to me.

I am focused. At least I’m working. The young man was in beautiful ringlets, but he was no longer there. The age difference between us is about one hundred and thirty years. This particular argument does not apply to me. Should I hurry? Shame? I close my eyes and try to forget him.

There is still some ointment left. For a rainy day. Zimmermann reiterated that I should use it only in situations that threaten my life and safety. Not for pleasure and fun. I replied that it is possible by taking the largest package. And he believed me. Scientist and fool.

I return to the library. I’m not alone there, the corridors are full of characters, but I still ignore them. Book shelves reach …

Have I checked this gas or not?

I checked.

Bookcases extend from floor to ceiling and disappear in the dark. The flame in the fireplace bounces happily. I touch the first chair and the fingerprint sticks to the floor. There is also a glass table with a basket of apples on it. One apple is missing.

So far, everything is going according to plan. I do not like this sentence. Sounds like a spell to draw misfortune, but I’m an exception.

So far, everything is going according to plan, I repeat.

You don’t understand much of it, do you? I will answer your most pressing questions soon. You will not be satisfied with what you hear. The answers will raise more questions. I will try to answer them. We have time.

I sit comfortably in a chair. I take an apple from a bowl and learn. The idea of ​​an apple was very good. I start laughing. I laugh out loud and for a long time.

I am wise, and others are fools, I say. I just say this sentence to myself several times a day throughout my life, so I don’t expect any misfortune.

I shoot the apple. My smile grows even bigger.

Are we starting? Let’s start.

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