Sunday, April 17, 2011


The basement/pantry was comfortable enough. It was clean and orderly. Best of all, there were no windows. The guy who owned the diner didn't even judge them. He wasn't even surprized. His daughter was a 'goth' kid and he had a few magic type tattoos. I suppose he thought it was all the same thing. Maybe he was a little bit sceptical. But when Jonathon sublimated his hand through the glass panel of the big fish tank in the dining room and nothing happened, that clinched it. So the two vampire vagabonds slept between seven fifty pound sacks of russet potatoes and a whole lot of boxes of paper napkins. The glossy painted cement floor was freshly mopped. Jack, the owner gave them a blanket from the office (sometimes he napped on the old couch). And their knapsacks stuffed with clothes from the mall, served as pillows. The two Mexican kids who helped out were told they were just a couple of down on their luck travellers. That, they understood, since it wasn't so different from the way they came into the country. So they slept. And Jonathon had dreams. He saw his family. He saw the villa with the cool, central patio. He heard the bubbling fountain. Sheba and Jezebel (the two parrots) screamed and laughed in the shade. All were busy, prepairing for the coming of The Passover. His mother loved this season. She ran it like a sea captain. All the best foods (appropriate to the celebration) were carefully stored in the Passover Larder (used only at this time of year). Fresh, new clothing for every member of the household filled chests and cabinets throughout the bed chambers. And relatives arrived from throughout the great Caliphate and storied lands beyond. He could smell the cooking, rich and fragrant with safron and celantro. Uncles spoke of various matters by the fountain. Some used Arabic, others conversed in the newer Iberian idiom. Servants played softly upon ouds, guitarras and tambourines. If only the dream would never end. But it did. He awoke. One of the workers came in for a big can of corn and that disturbed him. So he laid there and allowed himself to wander into Sarah's dreams. He saw a small dog and an old doll. Then she drifted back into the gray, warm shadows.

Jonathon thought about the future. He thought about the crossing. The princes of the sea would help them. Papa made such a journey. But he never had. He came over on the good ship The Welcome, with The Lord Protector himself. He came over with William Penn. So this would be an ordeal for him. To Sarah, it might be a nightmare. Yet they had no choice, For an angel of death is still an angel. And somebody spoke his name. So in a day or two they'd reach the Jersey Shore. Baylah suggested a stretch of beach a few miles south of Atlantic City, right in front of Lucy the Elephant, a seven story tall finely maintained, nineteenth century structure built in the shape of a pachyderm. It has a towering howdah and everything. Even has a trendy, carriage trade refreshment bar. You need a good portobello burger? Get it there. Not that Baylah ever did, but her human boyfriend (the one with the nearby beach house) occasionally indulged. In a few nights, they'd stand on that stretch of sand and wade out into the forty eight drgree water. No one would see. Not that late. Then they'd paddle out to the encounter. It might take a while. But the moon will be bright. And what does cold water mean to a vampire? The whales would rise and they'd unite, carrying them across the great, salt sea and through the Pillars of Hercules. Jerusalem...He had never been there.....but soon he would...Then he leaned over and kissed his dear companion...For in a short while her life would change as much as his...

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