Sunday, February 13, 2011


Thus flows the river of vampirism, at least in these parts. The human retainers are snug in their Jersey Pines refuge. Baylah still holds court with her rich 'husband' at the shore. Sarah and the 'children' (the elves and cherubs) lie suspended in their nebulous limbo, prisoners of the mysterious 'Papa.' But Annie, the six year old child vampire (one who should have made common cause with the younger elves) enjoyed her new existance as Papa's favored princess. Their lodgings deep within the bowels of the University Museum on 34th Street had been somewhat enlarged and beautified. There was an old bed in storage. I believe it once belonged to the spoiled daughter of a Roman noble. Annie liked it. Just like Goldie-Locks, she knew it would be just right for her. So some of their new 'familiars' dragged it out, dusted it off and set it up in another little  used space that opened onto their lair. Other what-nots and gee-gaws followed, till the chamber glowed like a robber's den. She loved it. And if she loved it, Papa loved it. They still went out every night, ripping people apart, stealing bling from burnt up corpses and in general just having a grand old time. Papa would tell her stories as they strolled through the city, or rode in their shiny, black car. He shared tales of his life long ago. Being privy to such tales was like witnessing the arc of all human (and not so human) history. She heard of mammoth hunts on the frozen plains of an ice-age Europe. And arcane rites performed deep within the torturous caverns buried under the fertile woodlands of some dark, rich forest. Papa was the Blood Lord then, a revered seer, who shepherded his tribe through the centuries with a wisdom gained over millennia. He saw things, strange things now unknown to every other soul upon the earth. The thickset, sturdy ones, the gnomes and trolls of the mountains, the ones we now call Neanderthals, were his neighbors. And he became adept at their method of communication, built on melodious trills, simple words and fluid gestures, heavily leavened with a layer of telepathy. To us, it would be magic. To them it was only natural. They hunted the great aurochs (or-ox) a massive, ivory colored bovine standing seven feet high at the shoulders and with horns like Odin's spears. Papa would go out with them, if the hunts were by the moon. He'd race over the plains, vaulting through the air and landing secure upon the back of the giant beast. Gragging hold of the horns, he'd lean forward and give it a little nip, just a bit, right on the neck, to show it who's boss. And it would slow down, snort a few times and begin to circle. The mortals would eventually catch up and reverently surrounnd it. Then they'd offer it bunches of fragrant grass, spiced with certain compounds known to bring on a type of sleepy euphoria. The beast would lay down. Papa would slide off its back, join the others and lead them in a few prayers designed to thank the gods for opening up their larder. One by one, they'd approach the animal and with sharp, flint blades slash practiced cuts deep into its hide. The blood would flow. The great, watery eyes rolled back, as the noble aurochs passed over into the spirit world. Then they'd howl like wolves. And the women who were with them (some, hunters in their own right) rushed forward to begin butchering the dead carcass. After a while, Papa would lead them back to the village, accompanied by haunting melodies issuing forth from an assortment of horn flutes and simple drums. thus was the creation of human culture. And he was there for it all. At times, when the stories were over, he'd think about Jonathon and discover that his hatred was beginning to temper. It was beginning to lessen. He was free now. That pain, at least, was over. and he was starting to mourn the 'loss' of his son. He suffered feelings of contrition about his treatment of Sarah and the children. Who knows? Maybe some night he'd do something about it. To lessen the pain, he'd drop Annie off (she loved poking about in the museum) and then go ravish some waiting beauty alone in her carefully decorated apartment. Lately he'd been allowing them to survive. I guess that's a sign. I guess he's beginning to mellow.........

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