Saturday, April 20, 2013


Jonathon recalled a city. Actually, more of an elaborate citadel, but they called it a city. He traveled there once many centuries ago. None went with him. It was a singular pilgrimage. Merchants and ambassadors returning to the western world via Venice spoke of it.... a fabled place of ancient magic and great spiritual calm. Some referred to the Caucasus. Others claimed the far side of the Urals, or the westernmost ramparts of the Hindu Kush.

He saw skulls with fangs.... very odd, in itself, since vampires always burn after death.... the 'cool' blue flame and all that. Some bejeweled craniums (the lower mandibles missing) are esteemed relics in basilicas throughout Christendom. I don't know what they say about the teeth though. 

Now travel can be an easy thing for night-folk. Roads are empty after sundown and deep, dark winding caverns make perfect bedrooms. Root cellars, or deserted 'haunted' ruins serve just as well when caves are hard to find. In this way vampires slowly move from place to place, should sublimation prove too taxing. 

Jonathon kept to the borderlands.... unclaimed, or contested places between vast feudal holdings, given to brush, forests and other feral conditions. Outlaws frequently disappeared there too. He fed on them, but also on an occasional cruel knight or man-at-arms.  Few ever saw him, although he did spy a satyr or faun once or twice. Centaurs are mythological, but they are not. Most likely an atavism harking back to an earlier time.

Then one evening at moonrise, he saw it... a silvery white pinnacle atop the craggy heights. And off in the distance, he heard a choir sing....

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It was at that moment things began to change. The impossibly long, sharp hypodermic needles began to slide into the huge, leaden box. And Jonathon was oblivious to it all, as he 'slumbered' deep in a night-folk sleep. 

The first needle came down from above, honing in on vibrations unique to vampire bodies. It pierced his scalp and via tiny, judiciously applied bursts of laser light, penetrated through the skull and into his spinal column. Another moved in laterally, easily melting through the soft tissue of the torso, before coming to rest in the blood-rich liver. Others traced different paths, til the thousand year old soul in the eighteen year old body was caught. And then the siphoning began. 

How happy his captor was, capering about as much as his wheeled conveyance would allow. He clapped his hands. He chuckled and nodded. Liver spotted skin never looked so thrilled.

But not too much. This was just the first time. Don't want to rile the beast. Mustn't injure himself. Vampires had been known to split in two attempting to sublimate through lead. Sometimes the head gets through... sometimes.... and then it stops. The rest of the body solidifies within the metallic barrier and the head falls off. ... But not this time. Maxwell's technicians were well trained and used to exacting tasks. The sedative, specially formulated for life-eaters and distilled from the original Ithican recipe, worked well. 

So Jonathon slept, if you can call it sleep, as tiny morsels of longevity (if not yet actual immortality) pulsed through unimaginably tiny channels, before finally being collected in an ancient, golden bowl...

While deep within the cube, he scaled the moonlit heights...
thank you. drink in more of our tale RIGHT HERE ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.

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