Monday, November 18, 2013


It all happened very quickly. Tomas sat ruminating on Santa's old Toy Land throne (see last night's episode) when one of the child-ghosts, in these dusty shadows, started whimpering...a lost keening sound, akin to an old violin on a dark, drizzly night. The spirit saw, or felt something. So sensitive they are. And after a heartbeat or two our vampirino 'Hamlet' (well, sort of) also felt it.

He rose from his resting place and began to explore... silently... stealthy, like a cat. I don't know why simpletons liken them to bats. They're much more feline in nature with perhaps a pinch of arachnid thrown in. But that's just me... and disembodied, spirit narrators are so particular.

After a bit he picked up the scent... thin and weak, for spectral beings are subtle that way. But the taste of blood was in the air... dead blood... young blood. Then he saw him, perched upon a tall stack of cartons, hastily pushed into a corner during the last days of this place. The midnight fiend, known as Johnny Jump Up finished a meal, gnawing on the ragged remains of juvenile thigh muscle left clinging to a none too fresh femur. The cadaverous monster in his tight, black suit mindlessly savored each semi-dry morsel. You know how ghouls get when they dine? But the vampire, Tomas, ever aware of his surroundings, moved closer, creeping up on old displays (Motorized Erector Set! $9.95!) and surviving, though non-functioning, light fixtures.

Night-folk here about despise ghouls, tragic though they are (victims of pre-mature burial) and confront them at every turn. Odd that the greasy haired monster crawled in here. They usually favor rooftops. Something must be afoot.

But his vampiric adversary cared little for dark-time politics, as he soundlessly crept across  the ceiling, coming to rest just above the loathsome head. The scent, thin though it was repulsed him. He stopped and steeled himself a moment before creeping down the wall, coming to rest behind the chalk skinned ghoul. Then he silently leaned in, delivering a quick, little nip to the monster's rancid ear.....

Time froze for a moment. Such a macabre, artistic composition they made, there in the feeble glow from the battery powered, liar-candles.

But an instant later it was over... and the razor sharp battle was on....


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