Sunday, April 21, 2013

The Vampire Known as Jonathon Reaches The City ........... 4/22/13

He stood there in the crisp, bright moonlight and listened. They sang. The choir sang, but the language was unknown to him. At times he heard a chant. Then a single voice broke forth in an aria, or perhaps an old cantorial. After a while it stopped. But there was a faint, metallic echo in the air. Snow began to fall, light and clean and dry, powdering the rocky path before him. And then, after perhaps ten score heartbeats he saw them..... footprints made by an unseen soul, going up before him.... The vampire known as Jonathon followed.

All was silent, save for the wind. 'Earth breath' they called it. But he did not know that then. The path was steep and slick with gravel. But night-folk are strong..... Soon there was a change and the unseen soul began to congeal. A tall, spare figure materialized before him. Jonathon spoke. He said - Who are you? Tell me your name..... But the figure said nothing. Nor did it turn 'round. So they went on.  The air grew icy. But 'cold' is just another flavor of reality to a life-eater, like a perfumed breeze, or spiders in the dark.

As they neared the summit, a portal opened (or disappeared) and small, plump beings flew out. Wings, they did not have. Yet they sliced through the night tracing patterns like skaters. 'Cherubs' they were.... tiny children, stolen into darkness by demon vampires of the noxious sort, but redeemed and sheltered by they who lived within. 

They danced about the Andalucian pilgrim ... tiny moths 'round a flame, tasting him via quick, sharp nips from their pointy tongues. Too young for teeth they were, though Providence blessed them in another way. And by the blood they knew him. And they smiled. Their kisses tickled. Jonathon laughed, as tiny trickles of red ran down his cheeks...

He reached a flat place, a natural terrace. Ten steps hence there was a door, a plain, strong, thick, wooden door, with naught but a loop of rope, wrapped 'round an old iron hook for a handle. Instinctively he pulled it and went in. Then he heard a voice. The ghostly figure from the ascent was real now and seated on a simple, rough bench against the far wall of a small, gray, cave-like room. Fat, yellow candles in small, natural niches popped and sputtered, washing the space in a rich, dim glow.

Close the door - he said. So Jonathon did. And the sound of the wind disappeared. Where the cherubs went, I do not know..... Sit down - said the figure.... Jonathon slowly took a seat at the other end. He was wary, for even a vampirino knows fear. The figure laughed, lowered his hood and smiled, revealing the fine, sharp tips of lethal fangs. ..... Are, are you 'vampirici'? - Jonathon said.... The being thought for a moment before responding - We prefer night-folk, or life-eater, if you must, but yes, you can call us that...... What is this place? - the young vampirino quietly asked...... What do you want it to be? - said the other..... Then he got up and proceeded down a narrow, raw stone corridor.  Jonathon watched him leave.  Seven heartbeats later the fat, yellow candles began to go out, til only one was left.  Jonathon (not eager to be abandoned in this place) carefully took it from the wall and hurried after the man with the fine, sharp fangs.

There was knowledge here. Jonathon knew it. So he followed the mysterious guide deep into the rock-face, til they came to another room, lit by a radiance independent of flame...

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But back in the dream that was real, he still slept within the cool, leaden chamber, as drop by drop, his blood was drawn away...

Tobias drank it and was glad...
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