Okay, before I veered off into sharing old stories, I wrote about an Ancient Greek ghost story (totally true, according to Pliny the Younger) and how many of our modern tropes regarding ghosts and the stories they partake in are actually very old. Today I'm going to look at a sort of ancient vampire, although many other ancient cultures also had similar stories.

No, I'm not talking about Dracula, Barnabas Collins, or those two guys from Interview with the Vampire – these are old vampires. Unlike ghosts, in many ways, we wouldn't call these stories vampire stories. They don't lurk in the shadows, eschew garlic, or wilt at the sight of a crucifix. They drink blood, and that's the only thing that links them to our modern tropes, which have already changed quite a bit since Universal Studios released Dracula. As an aside, and I may do an article on this film later if you want see a more classical, medieval – Victorian-era vampire, check out Nosferatu.

Much like ghosts, it wasn't considered a tall tale or out-of-the-ordinary to tell a tale about someone who, by the power of the gods, had come back to life. That doesn't mean that people's minds were so open that their brains were falling out, just that the supernatural was much more plausible to them than it is for many people today.

So, I'd like to introduce you now to one of the oldest of these stories, at least from the west. The Middle East features a lot of them, too, but I'm trying to stick to the theme of my previous article! It was told originally by Phlegon of Tralles in the second century AD and was repeated by Plocus in the fifth century. It was told in the form of a letter and reportedly takes place during the reign of Philip II in Amphipolis (you Xena fans know this city), and he attests that there were multiple witnesses – a common way to get an audience to accept a story as true.

A Note Before We Begin

Phlegon says that the story itself actually comes from a guy named Naumachius of Epirus, who lived two centuries earlier, making this story far older, perhaps stemming from about the time of Jesus Christ or even earlier. As such, Phlegon knew that his audience was likely familiar with the story, so the beginning is cut! As such, it's up to me to fill you in on the details we know.

Philinnion is the daughter of the couple Demostratos and Kharito of Amphipolis. A lovely young woman (and since this is Rome, by 'young woman' we mean someone who likely wouldn't legally be eligible for marriage in our modern world) and is married (of course she is...) to a general in Alexander the Great's army named Craterus. Unfortunately for her, she dies just six months after their wedding. She then appears, bodily, in her parents' home, where she hangs out with a young man (and by 'young man' we probably mean that he's older than her) named Machates, a guest of theirs.

Then Phlegon's story begins, retold by me. If you want to hear someone reading this story, then please check this podcast out. You can also read the original text here, although I find it odd that this source cites Philinnion as an unwed ghost bride when my sources gave me the name of her husband and the tragic tale of a marriage that had barely begun.

Just remember, to paraphrase the great Mr. Dickens, Philennion was dead to begin with. That part you must not forget, or nothing that occurs next will seem wondrous!

The Tale of Philinnion and Machates

The nurse went do the door of the guest room, and in the light of the burning lamp she saw a girl sitting next to their guest, Machates. Knowing full well of Philinnion's tragic demise and being a woman of common sense, she did the proper thing and rushed off, screaming.

Bounding to the dead girl's mother, she cried, “Kharito! Demostratos! Come quickly! I've seen your daughter with the esteemed guest, Machates! Please, hurry! The gods have blessed us; by their divine will, our Philinnion is alive!”

Kharito clutched her bosom, feeling faint and frightened from the astounding news. However, her mind was soon flooded once more with the memory of her daughter, and the tears came without shame. Being a woman of sound mind herself, though, she quickly deduced that the nurse's tale couldn't possibly be true.

“You're mad!” she exclaimed through her tears. “Leave me at once!”

For you see, even in the ancient world where supernatural phenomena, such as being raised from the dead, isn't outright dismissed, it's far more probable for the poor nurse to have suddenly and without warning developed a mental illness marked by vivid visual hallucinations. In other words, as they would have put it, she'd taken leave of her senses.

But the nurse didn't see it that way, asserting, “I am of sound mind, unlike you! How could a mother not wish to see her daughter, taken from so soon? What have you to lose by coming to the guest room with me?”

With some hesitation, Kharito crept to the door of the guest room, still not fully believing the nurse's fantastic story, but still wanting to get to the bottom of what she'd seen. After all, if someone else was in the room with the young man, who could it be? Did he sneak some girl in? Was there a trespasser? Should she tell her husband to grab his sword and defend the home?

There, in the lamplight, sat a girl with the same delicate features and clothing as her beloved and dearly missed Philinnion. She stared intently, trying to take in as much as she could, but alas, her mind, though torn with grief, would not allow her to accept the girl as her daughter. Seeing as how she figured she could never ascertain whether the young woman was an impostor or her Philinnion brought back from the dead, she decided to retreat to her own bed and confront the woman in the morning.

“Even if she's not here by then,” she told herself as she hastened back to her chambers, “I can ask Machates about it. He wouldn't lie to us about something important like this!”

This, my readers, is why Kharito would either be super good or super bad at a game like Among Us. On the one hand, she doesn't rush to conclusions. On the other, she's horribly indecisive about what she's actually seen.

As dawn, by rotten luck or divine will, the girl had disappeared, unnoticed by all the household. Kharito, anxious and distressed, questioned a very nervous Machates about the girl who visited him.

Naturally, Machates was very nervous. You don't often get caught with a girl in someone else's house, after all. With hesitation, he gave her name, which happened to Philinnion. After being pressed, he continued to explain when the visits started, how greatly she desired him (“Tell me more! Tell me more!”), and that she admitted to coming to him without her parents' knowledge.

Kharito looked incredulous, so Machates decided to produce some evidence, obviously wondering why the woman would be so disbelieving of his tale when the only reason she was questioning him was because she had clearly seen him with someone. He opened his coffer and produced a golden ring she'd given him and a breast-band she'd left the night before.

Now, Kharito isn't such a skeptic that her mind is closed to the possibility, and seeing all of this evidence, she became quickly overwhelmed. With a cry, she tore her clothes (it's an ancient thing, don't judge), threw her headdress from her brow, and fell to the ground, throwing herself upon the little evidences and beginning her grief anew. Poor, confused Machates was distressed by all the wailing, completely unaware of the poor woman's death, and promised to show her the visitor.

Kharito told the young man of her daughter and the terrible fate that had befallen her. Machates was alarmed, but his curiosity piqued. Was the girl really dead? Was she an impostor? His stomach churned, but his heart couldn't yet break its devotion to the mysterious visitor.

“We shall find out for certain what's going on,” he promised. “By Hades, we shall know the truth!”

When night fell, and the hour in which Philinnion appeared came upon them, the household kept watch. The mysterious girl appeared at her usual time and sat on Machates' bed, resting her peaceful eyes on the young man whose company she adored.

As for Machates, he pretended that nothing was wrong. As per their usual routine, they made supper and ate and drank together. For so many nights now, this routine seemed a perfectly normal thing for two young, potential lovers to do. Now it did little but to baffle the young man. How could a girl who ate and drank and made merry be dead?

Himself a level-headed chap, Machates began to suspect grave robbers.

“That could be it,” he thought. “Someone robbed the poor girl's grave, stole her clothes and the trinkets buried with her, and set up this fake!”

Motive? He had none. Perhaps they meant for the fake Philinnion to inherit her parents' wealth, but the ancient world, seeped in all of its misogyny, would never allow a woman to inherit anything, so that theory is out. Perhaps these mysterious grave robbers and the clever impersonator were simply the world's greatest trolls, getting their kicks from making unsuspecting strangers think they're in love with ghosts.

The pair beginning to grow drowsy from the food and drink, Machates secretly ordered his slaves (more ancient injustice!) to fetch the girl's parents before the inevitable food coma overtook him.

At once, Philinnion's parents came racing to the guest room. Their hearts racing and bracing for anything, they came to the door and froze solid. There she was, their beloved daughter, alive. The astonishing sight robbed them of speech for but a moment; then, cries of joy ringing freely, they rushed to embrace their lost child. O how the easily the tears flowed as their arms held their daughter, her limbs no longer stiff but lively again; her body no longer cold but warm with the living blood that again rushed through her veins.

Yet Philinnion's arms only weakly returned the embrace before she fought herself free of their suffocating love. Her own eyes flooded with tears, she said in a voice that shocked all present – family, lover, and slaves alike – with its anger, “Mother and Father, how unfairly you have grudged my being with the guest for three days in my father's house, since I have caused no one any pain. For this reason, on account of your meddling, you shall grieve all over again, and I shall return to the place appointed to me. For it was not without divine will that I came here.”

Immediately upon speaking these words, she was dead, her body stretched out upon the bed. Her parents' grief returned at once, the shock overtaking them as they threw themselves upon her lifeless body just as they had when she'd first passed. The misfortune so unbearable, it sent the entire household into wailing and mourning.

As it often happens, the event quickly spread throughout the city, and soon a large crowd was gathered. According to the tale's original author, it was at this point that he entered the scene himself. After all, someone had to make sure no one made any trouble, and where people gather in any substantial quantity, especially with emotions running high, trouble almost certainly follows.

By the time dawn arrived, the town assembly was in full. After the particulars were explained and the rumors straightened out, at least as best as a committee can do, it was decided that the first thing to do was to investigate the tomb to see whether the body, again a fresh corpse, lay on its brier or was missing entirely. Opening the tomb in which all of her family was laid to rest, every body (or what remained) was accounted for, but to the astonishment of all, the brier upon which Philinnion's body had been had only these upon it: an iron ring and a gilded wine cup – both of which she had obtained from Machates on her first visit.

Astonished, the crowd moved on to Demostratos' house to see if the body was truly in the guest room. Needless to say, they had their proof.

The question became: now that it was clear what had transpired, what in the world do you do about it? While the rest of the assembly was dumbfounded, a great seer and augur stood up. Hyllos was well-regarded, and the townsfolk regarded him as being particularly skilled at his craft.

“Well,” he said, looking down thoughtfully as he spoke, “it is my opinion that we should take the girl outside of the city's boundaries and burn her. Nothing good can come from burying her again, for she might just get back up! Moreover, it would be wise for us to perform an apotropaic sacrifice to Hermes Chthonios and the Eumenides. Everyone here should completely purify themselves as well! And clean all the temples and perform all the customary rites to the underworld gods!”

To the original author, he also privately instructed him to sacrifice to Zeus Xenios, Hermes, and Ares, and to perform the rites with care. In other words, use caution.

The townspeople did all of this, but poor Machates grew despondent and killed himself. Once we discuss the full context here, this doesn't sound as romantic as you're undoubtedly thinking.

Phlegon ends this tale, written as a letter, telling the receiver that if he decides to relay this incredible tale to the king, he (Phlegon) will send witnesses to verify its credibility.

But Where's the Vampire?

Okay, I can see you scanning the text and asking yourself where the vampires are. I mean, this reads more like that story about the ghost that disappears in the taxi, or as some tragic tale of a girl who returns to life only to vanish as in the Orpheus tale rather than some vampire story.

This is where cultural context is extremely important. For those of us in the modern world who either read or simply know from cultural osmosis, the famous stories of one William Shakespeare, specifically his Romeo and Juliet, this story may seem like a romantic tragedy. Lovers pulled apart by fate, choosing to die rather than to live apart.

Unfortunately, once you understand the full context, Philinnion comes across more like a very early vampire prototype than a girl who was fortunate enough to be divinely restored to life only to die once again, the hope of a second miracle thwarted by superstitious villagers who take her corpse outside to burn it.

In the ancient world, returning bodily from the dead is usually not a good thing. It wasn't considered out of the realm of possibility, but you shouldn't generally entertain the person who has come back to life. Don't give them gifts or consort with them! There's a stranger danger hidden in there, and it was generally understood back in those days (and all the way up until Goethe wrote his famous, Christianized retelling of the tale) that Philinnion was sustaining her mortal life by drinking Machates' blood as he slept.

For those of you who are old-school anime fans, think Inuyasha, specifically the character of Kikyou. Kikyou is a priestess who is brought back to life, but her body cannot sustain itself; she's not wholly alive in the sense that we would understand, forcing her to collect souls to maintain her mortal existence.

That's how the ancients would have seen Philinnion, and other characters who spontaneously raise from the dead. They're alive, but not in the way we know. Philinnion is there, but she isn't whole. She can't live without something unnatural sustaining her, most likely human blood.

Like a vampire, she appeared only at night and apparently stayed with him until she would vanish every morning at dawn. The tokens on her brier suggest that she was returning to her grave during the daylight and emerging at night to consort with the young man. The girl insists she was causing no one pain, yet upon her second death, Machates kills himself.

While a modern audience may understand this death in a romantic way, some have suggested that Machates was driven mad, having had his blood taken from him, perhaps making him love the woman more than he actually would have otherwise.

What do you think?

Is Philinnion a tragic figure, or an unnatural, dangerous creature – a disaster waiting to happen? Maybe she's a bit of both? Weigh in below!