For thousands of years, there have been myths about vampires. While not causing people to desert their towns, these creatures can still impact our daily lives; for instance, they could disrupt someone's sleep after a film. As such, vampires are still important elements of horror fiction, especially with the influence of classics like Nosferatu and Bram Stoker’s Dracula. While most cultures commonly describe bloodsucking undead creatures, the modern vampire we know actually comes from the Balkans.

The rise of Balkan vampire lore began in the 18th century when Austria's victory over the Ottomans led to their expansion into the Balkans and the discovery of local supernatural beliefs. Despite this, the phenomenon's roots lie far earlier. Emperor Dušan’s 14th-century Serbian law, to illustrate, contained an article penalizing those who violated graves in search of the undead. It was not that the state believed in such things when enacting these laws, but rather, they were trying to prevent community hysteria and villages from being deserted.

While Transylvania and Romania are known for vampires, similar phenomena actually occurred throughout the Balkans. The locals believed that vampires were people who, after death, came back to life to hurt people around them. Their lack of peace after death was primarily attributed to religious factors such as their wickedness, lack of baptism, or disrespect for religious symbols. Alternatively, there may be unique reasons, for example, a cat jumping over the deceased. Contrary to popular vampire depictions, they would not bite but strangle, then drink the blood of their victims.

The Kragujevac vampire case of 1725 in Serbia stands as one of the first well-documented vampire occurrences with common vampire characteristics. Austrian authorities reported that locals are terrified because two vampires, who died months ago, have awakened and killed approximately 40 people. A doctor was dispatched to examine the graves of the two individuals, with 300 soldiers safeguarding the operation. Examination of the graves revealed remarkably preserved bodies, supporting the claim of vampirism. Nevertheless, in order to determine the effect of the soil on the preserved condition of corpses, the officials exhumed another grave and uncovered the remains of a woman who had died much later than the supposed vampires. It turned out she was already in a state of decomposition. By taking this as evidence of vampirism in these two undead beings, they impaled them with wooden stakes and burned their bodies.

A second story emerged from Serbia that same year. However, this time we know exactly who the "vampire" is: Petar Blagojević. His death was followed by nine more deaths over the next eight days. Despite the possibility of an illness around the village, the populace attributed the deaths to Blagojević, as all victims, in their deathbeds, testified to being attacked by him during their sleep. Allegedly, Blagojević also returned home and demanded that his son accompany him. When his son refused, he also killed his son. Austrian officials again witnessed and confirmed vampirism signs: an intact body and hair growth on the corpse. They repeated the act of piercing the corpse with a stick and burning it.

Serbia and Romania may be the most well-known for vampire stories, but Greece and Bulgaria also have their own vampire past. For instance, archaeological excavations in Bulgaria uncovered approximately 100 vampire burials that involved traditional practices such as impaling bodies with wooden or iron stakes and decapitation. Similarly, in Lesbos, Greece, there were accounts of people being pinned down in their graves, suspected of being vampires, and these actions were taken to prevent their resurrection.

Accounts from 18th-century Western travelers also mention vampire burials in their writings about the Greek islands. During the severe famine in Greece from 1941 to 1942, many people died of hunger, and a large number were laid to rest in mass graves without proper church burials. To prevent any possible return of the deceased, some families resorted to extreme actions such as beheading or putting a stake through their loved ones before burial.

Even though cases of alleged vampirism are now so rare, they never completely disappear. There are claims that a Romanian man who died in a village in 2003 later returned as an undead to his niece. Following the sighting, a mob gathered, intent on a vampire hunt, and proceeded to exhume his body. Authorities got involved in the situation, leading to the arrest of “vampire hunters” for disturbing the deceased. Similarly, in 2007, a Serbian man placed a wooden stake on the grave of Slobodan Milošević, the former Serbian leader, in an attempt to prevent his resurrection.

While clearly intended as a political protest, this act echoed older superstitions, blurring the lines between satire, symbolism, and folklore. Milošević was not the only authoritarian leader in the Balkans to receive such treatment: Nicolae Ceaușescu, the Romanian dictator executed during the 1989 revolution, was denied a proper burial. To prevent his return as a vampire, some locals reportedly placed garlic at his former residence.

Considering the distinct Ottoman culture and religion and their five-hundred-year control of the Balkans, the nature of their interaction with vampire beliefs is an intriguing question. Eighteenth-century archives reveal that a judge in Edirne, a Turkish city bordering Greece and Bulgaria, reported a serious vampire problem to the imperial palace. A man in the city turned into a vampire and troubled the residents. The judge recalled a 16th-century fatwa (a legal ruling in Islamic law) issued by the shaykh al-Islam, the highest religious authority in the empire, addressing a similar matter. However, unable to locate the written record of the ruling, he sought guidance from the central authorities. The palace responded pragmatically: the corpse should be examined for signs of vampirism, and if such signs were evident, the necessary steps should be taken.

The judge's desire to contact the imperial center regarding this intriguing fatwa is unsurprising. This 16th-century fatwa, referenced by the judge, originated from a question posed by an Ottoman official in northern Greece. In that case, a Christian villager had died, only to allegedly return days later, calling upon his neighbors, each of whom died the following day. After several such incidents, panic gripped the village. Both Muslims and non-Muslims were terrified, and many were preparing to abandon the village, believing it to be cursed.

Remarkably, the shaykh al-Islam, the empire’s highest religious authority, did not dismiss the case outright, recognizing that doing so would not calm the social hysteria. Instead, he acknowledged that the events were highly unexplainable but not beyond the realm of divine possibility, even though orthodox Islamic theology traditionally rejects such occurrences. Unable to find guidance in the classical religious texts, he turned to local customs, which are a permissible source within Islamic law under certain circumstances.

This is where the case becomes particularly fascinating: the ruling he issued was strikingly at odds with classical Islamic norms. He advised that the corpse should first be staked through the chest. If that failed to stop the disturbances, the head should be cut off and placed between the legs. And if even that did not work, only then should the body be burned.

While staking or burning a corpse is fundamentally unacceptable within Islamic religious jurisprudence, in this instance, the Ottoman imperial authorities prioritized the restoration of public order over strict adherence to doctrinal limits. Their utility-focused approach is noteworthy, demonstrating a pragmatic flexibility aimed at quelling a mass hysteria that threatened to destabilize local communities. Yet perhaps even more compelling are the prescribed methods themselves. This case suggests that beliefs about vampires and the rituals to counter them were strikingly intercultural.

The Ottoman religious authority recommended not only staking the corpse, a practice famously associated with vampire lore in Western Europe, but also decapitating the body and placing the head between the legs, another ritualistic practice found in various parts of Europe. Remarkably, archaeological evidence reinforces this connection: in 2012, during road construction in Gliwice, Poland, 13 skeletons were discovered buried with their heads placed between their legs, again an apparent attempt to prevent the dead from rising.

To end, let us recall the words of Jean-Jacques Rousseau: “If the world has a well-documented history, it is of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: interrogations, documents by notables, surgeons, parish priests, and magistrates. The judicial documents are particularly complete.” It's fascinating to consider how a phenomenon once taken so seriously—recorded in legal archives, addressed by religious authorities, and feared by entire communities—has gradually faded into the realm of fiction. Today, vampires are mostly confined to the pages of novels or the screens of cinemas. Yet their long and curious history reminds us how deeply human imagination and cultural anxieties have shaped the way we interpret the unknown.