Thursday, November 24, 2011


We're half way 'round the Sun since last THANKSGIVING. This episode ran back then. Can't post a new one tonight. Must retire  (ZZZzzzZZZ) a bit earlier. But please wander through this  magical epistle. We know you all didn't read it the first time. But that's OK. Hopefully, you'll look at it now.... THANK YOU .....And ENJOY the WEEK END..........Jonathon went after Sarah. He knew she could feel him, if she was focused enough. But her mind was on other things. How careful she was. How neat and precise. Each tiny, glass vial prepared in just the right way. Twelve drops in each. Sealed with the same. fine, Portuguese cork. Like perfume samples in an opulent emporium.

She slipped into the evening crowd, a tall, slim, American pilgrim (it does not seem right to call them 'tourists' in this town) and made her way to a narrow, cramped alley behind a small marketplace. Strange scents peppered the night. Yemenite Jews lived here, some Ethiopian believers too. But Sarah wasn't picking up the spices. She tasted the sickness. Two doors down, upstairs, above a stall selling some sort of street food. The old woman behind the worn, marble slab kept it surprisingly clean.

Sarah approached, looked into her eyes and smiled. She held up one finger and slid a small bill across the counter.  The old woman beamed , as she repeatedly bowed her head, before turning to fill the order. Then our young vampirina deftly uncorked two vials, allowing the contents to run down into a small condiment pot. She replaced the glass lid and waited. The woman gave her what looked like a beef taco wrapped in a soft tortilla. It did smell appetizing... to humans anyway. Sarah thanked her and left.

But that little, magically improved, condiment pot would work wonders. Two cases of cancer would disappear. Childhood colds and influenza would be milder this year. And an ancient, bed-ridden woman would nibble at a warm meal, bought at considerable expense, by a loving family. Three days hence, she'd be up and about, preparing the dress for her granddaughter's wedding.

Jonathon caught up with his beloved as she exited the alley. He hugged her. She slipped her arm through his and they walked off. Few words were said. No kiss. This was the Old Quarter of Jerusalem and public displays of affection were decidedly outre. He went in, as she 'helped' children at a clinic (vampires are quite adept at what we would call hypnosis) and contributed a bit of his own essence to a young man recuperating from an explosion. Whether recipient or creator of the blast did not matter. Now he was well. And now he was grateful.

And in this way they passed the American Thanksgiving festival, deep in the land responsible for it's Feast of Tabernacles inspiration.The 'Enemy' was quiet that night. The sky quite calm. The streets quite peaceful. And they were thankful for that.

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