Thursday, March 8, 2018

VAMPIRES REMEMBER SO MANY THINGS 2/26/18

I, Jonathon speak these things -

We who you call 'vampires' witness so much. Long lives allow us to absorb all manner of things. Some dissolve into welcome memories. Others are as undigested pits and bones. And it's odd, but they rise up to confront us when we least expect it.... I walk the streets at night. You know that, for I share so much. God bless you all for being there. No other life-eater has, or ever had such sympathetic friends. No real life eaters anyway.

I saw THE BLACK PANTHER and I liked it. ... possibilities made real. That which we imagine can be achieved. All that's required is sincere dedication. I also saw a group of young people exit the theatre giddy and transfixed by the magic of it all. They laughed and danced about reliving scenes as they rapidly traded dreams. Few on the street noticed, but I did. Mortal emotion means so much to me. I saw the car round the corner and run right through them. It kept going, as if the city and all the people in it were invisible. One young man died instantly, crushed against the curb. I snatched another and sublimated up to the rooftops, so he might live. Did I transform him?... No, but I gave him a few drops and he lived... I redeemed him. His surviving friends from that night never realised what happened. But he went home healed and a week later, recieved an official document from a bank notifying him of a one hundred thousand dollar account, set up, tax free,  in his name. He and his family were quite pleased.  I, even more so...

This season does that to me. Friends of my tale know this. Few life-eaters, what most call 'vampires' forget their mortal faith. Indeed, we hold it all the more dear. For what else gives reason to this?... After all... we are only human... but (quietly) more than mortal.... So I do my job. I guard the sheep and tend the flock... Not the shepherd, but the sheepdog. That's why The Passover is so important to me... And I know there are people who 'tune out' when I don't give them recollections of bloody vampiric gore, or ancient, fiendish tortures. I have to accept that. Yet if people think vampire existence is all lurid killing and smoldering stares, they are wrong. In these postings I tell things how they are. I hope you all believe that. Those familiar with La Ciencia Vampirismo, the centuries old tome of vampire 'magic' and lore know the truth. God knows, I've referenced it here many times. Just go and do 'good things.'....

When vampires sleep during the light-time, we have visions... not dreams, as you do, but something much more precise and immediate. You see, it's even wrong for me to call it 'sleep,' for we are not just slumbering in our shelters. We are, in the spirit sense, somewhere else. You will know, when you die. In that state we see the face and feel the essence of the soul to be culled.... Who picks them? Well, one more spiritually adept than us. We behold the voice of angels... and they hear someone else. I believe that. All 'noble' vampires do. Thankfully, most are 'noble.'

So, once a month, I have my pre-ordained meal... I cull the soul and it sustains me. Those who don't know claim it's the blood. Granted, that fluid provides a certain heft, mouth sense and satisfaction, but the job well done gives even more.
and on those other nights, the nights when I don't feed, I save people, as I saved the boy, Michael, (that is his name) at the beginning of this episode. Or I gift my blood in subtle, quiet ways too. Sometimes I provide containers of hot coffee to homeless souls on the street, but I spike it first with you know what and they live. Most also find a banded 'flat' of hundred dollar bills in their pocket. Fifty to a stack. Five thousand dollars in all, with a note that says - take this to ( such and such) bank and deposit it... I give them one hundred dollar bills because I know few places will take them. The bank, a small private affair, belongs to a 'familiar' of mine. It's all arranged... They get a debit card  with a fifty dollar a day limit... and another note that says - To get off the street contact (another familiar). Let me just say that my success rate is higher than most other programs in the city. True, fifty dollars a day can buy quite a bender. But after a few days most learn. Oh, and if I didn't tell you, my blood can cure alcohol toxicity too.

I remember, as a newly made vampire, experimenting. I tried healing sick stray dogs... It worked... Alley cats mangled in fights were restored too... A near dead, juvenile Barbary Ape torn and dropped by a hawk was made whole. It seems the 'magic' works on all warm blooded creatures.... And in the candlelit gloom of medieval cellars I healed children from charnel houses, snatched just north of death and they came back too. We had to be careful to place them with families a few villages away, lest they'd be recognized and thrown down a well due to 'witchcraft.' Sadly, death cured everything in that culture and those days.... Death, death, death, death, death... They couldn't get enough of it, while I, as a vampire (0ther than my monthly 'meal') fought against it....

I've been in Philadelphia since its inception, coming over with The Lord Protector himself in the good ship Welcome. Notice I say 'in' and not 'on.' They had me locked in a large wooden chest down in the hold... I don't think they knew what I was... But the land was not empty. Native settlements were everywhere...There were Dutch and Swedish towns in the area too. And in three hundred and thirty six years I have saved tens of thousands... maybe more. I don't keep track... Counting natural increase via descendants and all only God knows how many.....

At this special time of the spiritual year, holy for Trinitarians and Unitarians both, I go out among the living and do my best to keep them that way... I protect the sheep. It's what I do...

Please know that decent people never have to fear us... Well, rarely have to fear us... Some night-folk do have strange spells every few centuries or so. But for the most part, you're all right.

Now permit me to continue my rounds....

(our hero, Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, silently walks off, disappearing into the wee hour shadows of the city.... an 'eighteen' year old youth on the town.... I'm sure you locals have seen him from time to time... or, who knows?... maybe he's seen you?)

<more next time>

kindly click THE VAULT ... to browse through six years of night-folk lore and more... but you have to click SUBSCRIBE when you get there, because that's how they designed it.
kindly click THE CONVERSATION THAT NEVER ENDS ... to join me on Twitter.... appreciate it.

No comments: