Friday, June 9, 2017

Vampires hate the Summertime .. 6/9/17

They once sealed a vampire into a heavy, thirteenth century iron maiden made of lead. When it was shut and locked they wielded the seam with more lead. For the unfortunate life-eater sealed within there was no way out. Vampires cannot sublimate through that dense metallic substance. He sat there, forgotten, in the burial crypt of a semi ruined Austrian castle. Snow melt filtered down through the stones. He felt the cold. Thus he marked the seasons. Sometimes he dreamed. sometimes he didn't. The world turned 'round without him.

He's still there. The 'magic' rests differently on everyone. Some would dry and shrivel. But only some. I am Jonathon and I know many things. I feel them. I smell them. I taste them. And I sit here in our Philadelphia townhouse contemplating what I should share with you. There's so much... But let me just say this --- Truth usually comes at the beginning. So pay attention to our early writings. First utterances are the most accurate. All the really good words get used up. What comes after that rings hollow. It's like that with musicians... with poets and artists. The initial torrent runs clean and fresh. Subsequent trickles bear pebbles and sand.. Do you understand?

I've been practicing my 'expansions.' It's like sublimating. But when we sublimate the atoms of our beings  diffuse only enough to allow us to pass through solid matter. Expansions are different. We grow like clouds. Each particle moves away from its neighbors like stars in the firmament. Of course you understand the universe is expanding too? Maybe that's just how it is? 'Entropy' and all. I rise up above the atmosphere unto the very portals of space and I expand till my outstretched arms reach Heaven's Door... figuratively speaking.... I rest like that, drifting toward the Moon.... an invisible human shaped thing perhaps twelve thousand miles long. The silvery orb a basketball . My fingers rake the dust.... Then I contract and come back home.

'Papa' says I may not feel compelled to feed much longer. though I'll still possess that ability. Am I afraid?... Of course. But life goes on. What comes next is also a new beginning.... Will I still be here? Certainly... Things take time. Ux Mal wasn't built in a day. Sarah, my consort, watches me.. Now please know she has abilities far in advance of most other six year old vampirinas. I created her. My blood is her blood. But I've witnessed more than a thousand years... Well, maybe not. But close to it.

She sits there, in her comfortable club chair doing needle point.... petit point, actually. Her eyesight is superb. With concentration, she can see microscopic creatures cavorting through a glass of tap water. I can see souls rise up from corpses. I can hear the shrieks and cries of those buried alive. That doesn't happen so much anymore, not in 'developed' western cultures. But when it does, I can hear them.

Edith, our 'witchy woman' housekeeper, hands me an 'old fashion' glass of chilled vodka... more than chilled, icy cold actually. I enjoy the sensation... Cold is good. Vampires love cold. Winter is our time.... long starry nights.

The summer solstice approaches. They say in the misty time of first beginnings, early vampires truly feared that event. What if the days continued to get longer and longer till nighttime was no more? They gathered for prayers and for what some might call 'feeding frenzies.' But that was far, far in advance of my time... Papa's time too... even the Lady Renate knew not those things, though we all heard stories.

I suppose 'Mr. Old Bones,' the only extant Neanderthal vampire I've ever encountered might know the truth?

With that, the life-eater known as Jonathon ben Macabi, or Tomas de Macabea (both are equally valid) puts down his glass, exits the 'den,' proceeds through the entrance hall and leaves the house.

Sarah, his consort, waits for the door to click shut. It locks automatically. Vampire doors are always locked.

She exhales and returns to her craft.

<next time - magic even you can do>


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