Monday, April 22, 2013

Night-Folk Holy Men and Scribes..... 4/23/13

The floor was paved with onyx-like tiles. Each one emitting a warm, creamy glow.  Large crystals made from the same material dangled from the ceiling, suspended on thick, leather cords, filling the over head space with a dazzling display. Long tables, perhaps eight of them, ran the length of the room, flanked by legions of quietly toiling, night-folk scribes.  Jonathon whispered - What are they writing?.... His vampire guide said - The truth. 

Jonathon looked for permission. The vampire nodded. And he quietly made his way through the tables, observing the work. He saw books and scrolls... some in old Akkadian... some in classical Farsi ... some in Greek and some in Hebrew. Other scripts were represented, but he did not recognize them. And some composed original script in Sanskrit, also unknown to him. While a few lounged in a corner, delicately licking up rivulets of blood from the necks of specially conditioned human retainers. I guess they were on break. 

Jonathon said - What IS the truth?..... The other one shrugged and answered - I don't know. Then he laughed and said - Do you see war here? Do you feel it?..... Jonathon said - No..... The man said - Well, that's a part of it. I suppose anything that makes us better is true... and anything that makes us worse is not. Look at them. Look at the faces. We have Goths and Scythians and Mongols and Tamil. We have Latins and Byzantines and Jews. Even the Sunni and Shia get on. There are females among them too.... as well as devotees of Siddhartha and the Vedas. Some from old Roman lands call us Shambalah. But there are many Shambalahs. We are but one. 

Why am I shown this place? - said Jonathon.... Because we have to go through to get in there - he said, indicating yet another narrow passage.... Jonathon said - Oh... and casually waved back at a fat vampire girl making eyes at him, as she drew curly-Q kissie faces all over the border of her smooth, white, vellum page..... I wonder what future generations will make of that? Some look rather like Betty Boop, you know....

In the next space, old women (whether life-eater or not, I couldn't tell) worked with finely wrought lapidary tools, excising little discs of bone from piles of  clean, dry, ivory skulls, which they fashioned into decorative pendants and earrings... What are they for? - asked Jonathon.... For the tourists - said the guide... But Jonathon didn't know what that meant, so he just went - Uh huh..... Vampirinos don't know everything...

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While he reveled in this balm of nights past, his captor, the evil, or perhaps more accurately, the amoral, Tobais Maxwell, downed drop after drop of rich, red blood (stolen from his own enchanted tissues), as he chortled with selfish delight.

And in another part of the city, not so far away, Doctor Franklin met with Sarah and Baylah (over drinks at the bar of the Hotel Monaco) to see what they might do. As out on the streets, God intoxicated bands of 'Jonathonites' (mostly good hearted 'goth' girls who'd heard him preach in the basement of that bank building) walked down the pavement singing psalms. 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' was a favorite, though it's lack of Biblical provenance bothered no one...
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