The particular idea of the vampire has its origins in Eastern European lore. However, the simple idea of undead corpses returning from the grave exists in many cultures. Sometimes they're seen as merely a type of ghost, or other times they may be a flesh and blood creature such as the zombie.
This day (May 29th) in the county of Buckingham a very important thing happened: first from popular account, and then verified to me by the venerable archdeacon of the province, Stephen. The dead man was given up to eternity, according to custom, with the respectable care of his wife and relatives, and was buried on the evening of Ascension Sunday. On the following night, having entered the bedroom of his sleeping wife, he not only terrified her by waking her up but also almost crushed her with his unbearable weight thrown upon her. On the next night as well, he afflicted the astonished woman in the same manner. Terrified by the danger, the woman took care to protect herself against the agony of the third night, and thereafter, with the company of watchmen while she slept. He did appear, however; but when he was driven away by the shouts of the watchmen, he left without being able to harm her.Thus cast away by his wife, he similarly wearied his brothers who lived in the same village. They too, taking the cautious example of the woman, made ready to receive and repulse the danger. However, he appeared, as if desiring to catch them in a state of drowsiness, but was driven away by the vigilance and strength of the watchmen among the animals that were either in the houses or driven to frenzy outside, as the strange movements declared him. Then, too, to friends and neighbors; an equally serious trouble caused the same necessity of nightly anxiety to them all. And there were now general watches throughout all the houses in the village, with each person on edge about his sudden appearance. And after he had raged in this way for some time during the nights alone, he also began to wander about in the daylight, indeed terrifying to all, but visible to some. For often, while he encountered many, he was visible only to one or two, although his presence was not hidden from the others.The excessively terrified men decided to seek counsel from the church and brought the matter, with tearful complaint, to the aforementioned archdeacon, who was presiding over a meeting of priests. He immediately wrote to the venerable Bishop of Lincoln, who was then in London, explaining everything in order and rightly deeming that his opinion and authority should be awaited in such an unusual matter. The bishop, astonished by this and holding a detailed discussion with his people, found some who said that such things had often happened in England and were clear from frequent examples, and that peace could not be given to the people unless the wretched man's body was dug up and burned. This seemed too improper and base to the venerable pontiff, and he immediately sent a handwritten letter of absolution to the archdeacon, instructing him that, in order to see with their own eyes how the man's body was, they should open his tomb, place the letter upon his chest, and then close it again. Therefore, when the tomb was opened, the body was found just as it has been when placed there; but the pontifical letter of absolution was placed on his breast, and the tomb closed again, and the wandering were not seen anymore, nor was he permitted to cause trouble or terror to anyone.
He then recounts a similar story that happened around the same time. In this instance, the medieval belief that diseases are caused by bad smells (see Four Thieves Vinegar for more about this) created additional fear around the walking, rotting corpse:
In the northern parts of England, we know that another event, not unlike and equally prodigious, happened at the same time. There is a noble village at the mouth of the River Tweed, called Berwick, under the jurisdiction of the King of the Scots. There, a certain wealthy but very wicked man, as later became more fully evident, after being buried, began to emerge from his tomb at night, driven by the power of Satan as is believed. He would wander here and there, followed by a crowd of dogs barking loudly, instilling great terror in all the inhabitants, and before dawn, he would return to his tomb. This went on for many days, and no one dared to be found outside after evening, for everyone feared an encounter with the deadly monster.
The more important and average men among them held a necessary discussion on what should be done, fearing that if they acted negligently, the simpler among them might be prematurely marked by the dead man's prodigy. The more prudent ones cautiously considered that, if the remedy was delayed, the frequent roaming of the pestilential corpse might infect and corrupt the air. It was feared that this might produce diseases and deaths among many, as was clearly evident from frequent examples in similar situations. Therefore, they hired ten young men, known for their boldness, to dig up the abominable body, dismember it, and burn it, turning it into fuel for the fire. This was done, and the disturbances ceased. For the monster itself, while being carried around by Satan as mentioned, was reported to have said to some that the people would not have rest until it was burned. Therefore, once it was burned, peace indeed seemed to be granted to the people. However, a plague subsequently arose, which consumed a large part of that population. Nowhere else did it rage so terribly, although at that time there was a general plague throughout all the lands of England, as will be more fully explained in its proper place.
And finally the author of Historia Rerum Anglicarum adds:
Indeed, the idea that the bodies of the dead, emerging from their graves, are carried around by some spirit for the terror or harm of the living, and return voluntarily to the same graves that open for them, would not easily be believed if frequent examples from our time were not available and abundant testimonies did not exist. It is truly remarkable if such things happened in the past, as nothing of the sort is found in the books of the ancients, who certainly took great care to record memorable events in writing. For since they did not neglect to write down even minor occurrences, how could they suppress a matter of such great amazement and horror if it happened in that age? Furthermore, if I were to write all such events that I have learned happened in our times, it would be too laborious and burdensome. I wish to add only two recent examples to those already mentioned and insert them into our history for the caution of posterity, since the opportunity presents itself.
A few years ago, the chaplain of a certain illustrious lady, dying, received burial at that noble monastery called Melrose. He, indeed, having little regard for the sacred order which he held, had been excessively worldly and, most importantly, denigrated the sacrament of the divine mysteries. So dedicated was he to the vanity of hunting that he was infamously called by many Hundeprest, that is, "Dog-Priest." While he lived, this was either laughed at by people or considered more humanely. However, after his death, his guilt became clear from events. Indeed, coming out of the tomb at night, he could not, due to the merits of the holy inhabitants, terrify or harm anyone within the monastery itself. But outside the monastery, he would wander, and especially around the bedroom of his former lady, moving with a great roar and dreadful murmur. When this happened frequently, she, excessively anxious about the magnitude of her fear or danger, tearfully informed one of the brothers of the monastery who came to her about the cause, requesting that more intense prayers than usual be offered to the Lord for her as if she were in agony.
Concerned for her anxiety, that brother, who seemed highly deserving of the sacred place through frequent acts of kindness, sympathized with her piously and justly, promising a swift remedy through the mercy of the highest Provider. Returning to another monastery, he joined another brother of steadfast courage and two strong youths as companions, with whom he vigilantly guarded the grave where the unfortunate priest was buried. Equipped in spirit and arms, these four provided mutual comfort as they spent the night in that place. The night had already passed, and no monster appeared. Therefore, leaving behind that spot where they had gathered, the three went to the nearest house to relieve the nighttime cold from themselves by the fire.
When he alone remained in that place, the devil, thinking he had found an opportunity in the man's confidence, immediately stirred up his own vessel, which seemed to have rested longer than usual. Seeing this from a distance, he aimed at it as the first thing, but soon regained his confidence, and when there was no escape, he vigorously confronted the attack of the terrible plague that came with a loud murmur. As the man fled from behind, urging him to return to his own grave, which he voluntarily opened and accepted, he quickly closed it again with the same ease. After these events, those who were impatient with the night's cold and withdrew to the fire, came, and upon hearing what had happened, they gathered to dig up and remove the cursed body from their midst. And when they had cleared away the earth, they uncovered a large wound that it had received and found much blood that had flowed from the wound in the grave at dawn. Therefore, lifting it out beyond the monastery walls, they burned the ashes and scattered them. Indeed, as I have heard from religious men, I have arranged these things in a simple narrative.
Likewise, another event not unlike but more harmful occurred at a castle called Anantis, as I learned from an elderly religious man who was renowned and influential in those parts and recounted this event in his presence. A certain man, fearful of his evil deeds, whether of the law or of enemies from the province of York, fled to the Lord of the aforementioned castle, whom he knew. He settled there and, having obtained a ministry suitable to his own character, sought more to increase his own vices than to correct them. He married a wife, indeed to his own harm, as later became clear. For upon hearing talk of her, he was troubled by a spirit of jealousy, and desiring to know if it were true, he pretended that he would go away for a long time and not return until after several days. However, he returned in the evening and, secretly sent in by a knowing maid, hid himself above the beam of his wife's chamber, intending to observe if anything contrary to the fidelity of their marriage was happening there. And seeing his wife committing adultery with a neighboring youth, he, forgetful of himself in his anger, fell down heavily beside them to the ground. The adulterer escaped, but the wife, cleverly concealing her actions, pretended to help him up gently. He mildly reproached her for her adultery and threatened punishment upon himself. But she said, "You speak of strange signs, my lord, which should not be attributed to you but to the injury with which you are afflicted." Shaken by this incident and almost stupefied throughout his body, he fell down as if struck by illness. The man who recounted these events to me, fulfilling the duty of piety, visited him and advised him to confess his sins and receive the Eucharist according to Christian custom. However, he, questioning what had happened to him and what his wife had said, postponed making amends until the next day, not expecting to see the next day in his body. For on the following night, devoid of Christian grace and harassed by evil deeds, he joined sleep with death.
He received a Christian burial unworthy of him, which did not benefit him. For at night, driven by the operation of Satan, he emerged from the tomb, followed by a terrifying barking of dogs, wandering through the streets and around houses while everyone barred their doors, not daring to go out for any business from the beginning of darkness until sunrise, lest they encounter the wandering monster and be marked by the curse. But this caution availed nothing, for infected by the action of the foul body, the air filled with pestilential breath, causing diseases and deaths in every home. And now the once populous village appeared almost empty, as the survivors of the disaster migrated to other regions to avoid dying themselves. Grieving over the desolation of his parish, that man from whose mouth I heard these things endeavored to summon wise and religious men on Palm Sunday to give salutary advice in such a dire situation and to provide some solace to the remaining remnants of the people.
Therefore, after delivering a sermon to the people and duly completing the solemnities of the revered day, he invited the honored religious guests and others present to a table. While they feasted, two young brothers, who had lost their father in that calamity, encouraged each other. "The monster," they said, "that has destroyed our father will soon destroy us if we neglect it. Let us do some manly thing, then both with due and proper caution, and avenge our father's death. There is no one to hinder us when a feast is celebrated in the priest's house and this whole village remains silent as if empty. Let us dig out that pestilence and burn it with fire."
Having seized spades and sufficiently turned over, they approached the cemetery politely and began to dig. And when they thought they would dig deeper, suddenly they cleared away not much dirt and uncovered a huge, corpulent body, with a reddish face swollen beyond measure. The cloth with which it had been wrapped was torn completely. Not frightened, the youths, driven by anger, inflicted a wound on the lifeless body, from which so much blood flowed immediately that it was understood it was the blood of many. Dragging it out of the village, they quickly built a funeral pyre. When one of them said that the pestilent corpse could not burn unless its heart was removed, another, with frequent strokes of the turned-over spade, opened its side and, with his hand thrust in, extracted the cursed heart. With it torn into pieces and the body now burning, the living were notified of what had been done, and witnesses who rushed to the scene could attest to the rest. Moreover, with that infernal beast thus destroyed, the pestilence that had been raging in the people also ceased, as if by that fire which had consumed the dreadful corpse, the air now being purified which had been corrupted by its pestilential movement.