Friday, September 7, 2012


Do you know that during the Crusades captured vampires, mostly pathetic, little elferino-vampirinos, accompanied knights to The Holy Land? It is true. They used their blood to heal wounds. For the mounted warriors of the upper class suffered such grievous injuries. Few would have survived at all without life-eater assistance. 

They kept them as pets, safely locked in stout, leaden cages. The bars were more like wide, flat blades. Vampires cannot sublimate through lead. Everyone knows that. But these slim little 'beasties' were pampered...fed blood from the finest vessels. Sleek, fit mortals, I mean. They rarely take enough to cause death. Even say 'thank you' when it's all done. Some say Britain's Arthur was one..... an elferino-vampirino, I mean. That's how he managed to pull the sword from the stone. Please, be reasonable. Do you think a normal, young boy could do that? It's all there in The book... in LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO.

And do you know that book never ends. It's like a key into the Akoshic Records. The more you read, the more there is. Pages continue appearing. Yet the Book never contains more than one thousand, for those near the source disappear. Look, if you've scrolled fore and aft through 'digital' script you know what I mean. I don't know which pages remain once it is closed. That, I cannot tell you. 

I like sitting here. A 'familiar' owns the place. It overlooks the square, Washington Square. And the fourth floor is just right. I sit out on the balcony, obscured in shadow, watching the late night wanderers  down below. 

The 'Crazy Lady' isn't crazy. She talks to a dead sister. And believe me, the 'dead' one never shuts up. Shhhhh, they're out there right now, seated on a bench right by the monument. A few strange ghosts ripple by, but they don't care. Except for the spirit of little 'Runty.' He's a terrier, killed by 'Johnny Shot' (like grenade shrapnel) at the Battle of German Town. Got himself buried with what they thought was the right captain. But it wasn't HIS captain. So he runs around yapping for him every night. It's true. Spiritually attuned neighbors complain about the noise. But they don't know the puppy is dead. Two 'goth' girls often come through after work. They're massage artists, I think. He likes them, because they can see him. They pass their hands through the ether of his body. It calms him. He enjoys the warmth. 

I cannot wait for autumn..... real autumn. Short days. Long nights. We night-folk truly 'live' then. Now that I have known you for a while, I will take you places. I will show you the 'magic' beyond magic...and the 'fear' beyond fear.

Edith says we'll fashion a new playmate. Make a new 'vampire.' None of us want to. But she has seen it...and her magic is strong. 

Who knows? Perhaps (if you abide in the central districts of this vast, old city) it will be you. Philadelphia after dark is a grand place. Cobbled lanes lead toward secrets yet untold. 

Now, if you would be so good as to excuse me, I must hurry to an appointment with a most elusive specter in the top-most tier of The Walnut Street Theater. It's the oldest, continuously operating playhouse in the English speaking world..... and that includes London. So, please, I must be off. Actors can be so, so vain....

Oh, if you think the new vampire should be you, leave a comment, for we're quite willing to review applications.....


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