Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Book of Sarah
Good evening. It is I. It is Albion. I am still here. There are further truths to tell you. Look at that wilkravitz person type away. I can see him through the window. I wonder if he knows the words are coming from me? I wonder if he even knows that he is inscribing words? Maybe he's just like a link in a circuit? Who knows. I have seen him doing this before. Tomas was directing him then. He does this all in real time. It takes as long for him to write it as it takes for you to read it. It just spills out. Stream of consciousness, as they say. Now, what else did I want to tell you? Oh, yes. This is how I got here. To Philadelphia, I mean. There were four of us, me, Celeste, Roland and Marianne. There were two cherubs in the cask as well. But they did not have names. The spoken work is not relevent to them. Their communication was (and is) primarily mind to mind. Well you know, that is due to their nativity. Strictly speaking, they were vampires since birth. Imagine, never human. Oh, I know some of the cherubs were brought over as toddlers, the victims of crazy vampires like the rest of us. But even they have few human memories. When it comes to the cherubs, their souls are different. If you ask me, they are the truest vampires of all. Now, back to how we got here. I often wonder why our casket did not remain wedged in some deep, dark crevace .It happened to others. Granted, a tempest could have tossed us up onto some beach. Yet how did we get near that beach? Why are we not still locked in tortuous contortions off some stormy, Normandy headland? Others suffer such a fate. How do they endure it? I will tell you. They retreat into their dreams. They renounce their physical body and its many sensations. They become minds, just minds. But we did not have to face that. Why? Just remember there are other intelligences abroad in the sea. Kindly consider Their Serene Highnesses, The Whales, of both the baleen and toothed nationalities. Their consciousness met our consciousness. And they took pity upon us, pushing our tiny leaden prison along until we finally reached this welcoming shore. In other instances, it is said that some caskets would literally disolve after a few years in the briny deep, releasing their occupants out into the ocean like so many wildly paddling sea monkeys. Instinct kept them to the depths, rising up to meet the moonlight when at last they reached the New World shallows. They'd quickly scurry into coastal forests, like newborn sea turtles clamoring toward the surf. That is it. That is how we came to be here. Now, there are more than six of us in this metropolity. I do not know the exact number. It is bad luck to count. We make our living a lot like the Nobels do. When our not-killed nocturnal guests stumble back to their nearest and dearest after their dreamlike night with the fairie folk, they do so minus their gold and jewelry. Don't think of us like that. Please, have a care, for we are only orphans. Another thing, we can fly. Why are we so blessed? I do not know. Perhaps the magic effects each type of human differently. Many are the late-night mortal wanderers who have witnessed our airborne burlesques. But who could they tell? What could they say - Oh look! There's a naked, little baby zipping around the Dunkin Donut sign!? Can you imagine the reaction? They'd lock them away with the alien abductees. And we all know that aliens are real too. Tomas wants to reclaim that wilkravitz' psyche. I must depart. It seems he has a lot to tell you.