Tuesday, January 4, 2011

The Book of All Things New

And the city of Philadelphia was a changed place. The atmosphere seemed softer and easier to breathe. Pilgrims came into the city, more than came after the first internet postings a few months earlier. More than when Morticia and her lot arrived. The 'New Pilgrims' are not just goths and lovers of magic, heaven forbid. The new people are true spiritual seekers and they come in all faiths. Something happened here (if they only knew the truth). And they all want to be part of it.  The hotels are filled. Some residents rent out rooms in their homes. Everyone in our own little group, the vampires, the humans (both Pineys and Red Paints) and any other assorted disembodied spirits we may have floating around are caught up in it too. Who cares how it started? Thank God that Jonathon and Baylah are such good actors. Thank God they've kept up their sublimation skills. Jonathon is still not quite sure how he managed the 'heavenly' illumination that accompanied his descent into the sanctuary. But things like that sometimes happen and that, in itself, is a miracle. Wait, did I say that all the humans among us were caught up in this? Well, that is wrong, or at least it appears to be wrong. The Old Woman and Annie are almost completely silent and impassive, so it is hard to tell. But I would guess that they are not in this. I am sure of it. Look, I could pass through the akoshic records and pick up a few things. If you want, I will try. Send me your thoughts. I will get the message. And I have tried. But the 'records' are troubled by a strange spiritual static as of late and they are quite difficult to understand. I could go, but it would only be a guess. I am even having trouble communicating with you right now. Someone else wants to speak. And the 'someone else' scares me. So say good bye to Zebulon for the time being. Believe me, I am glad to get out of 'its' way...............Open yourself to me! Witness my reality! Pay attention! There is much to absorb! Open your eyes (your spiritual eyes) and see! The prison shatters. The walls fall away. I thought that I would be able to sublimate through the very lead and rocks. But this is different. The ceiling crumbles. Lead whines and groans, splits open and explodes. Functionaries scream. They pray. They scramble off to safety. They contact others on little, black, magical communication shards. Lights rains down to blind me. It is not the sun, but it is bright and hot and new. I have not felt the like for centuries. My skin begins to steam, but I do not truly burn. I rise up, whether via sublimation or by simply scampering out like a demon freed from hell I do not know. There is a hallway, a passage way. The floors are paved in polished granite. The walls finished in marble and the finest, ivory-like plaster, but the structure seems to groan and pop. Little ant-like workers in black cassocks race around shouting to each other. Loud wails echo from the walls, over and over and over. Their sound is deafening, like the great bells of Kiev! A few of the terrified humans begin motioning to me. They want me to follow them. They want me out of this fortress of stolen artwork (for that is what I sense it to be......indeed, they once 'stole' me) as soon as possible. Small cracks appear on the granite with my every step. The cassock-wearers cry and gnash their teeth. They plead with  me to follow (and I do). We seem to be going toward an exit. Someone throws me a monk's robe. I haistily tie it on, my own garments long since turned to rags. A door flies open. BOOM!! I am out on a street. No, not a street, a public square. Frightened people run in all directions. Is it an earthquake? No one knows. Masonry rains down on the populace. People fall. People bleed. And I raise the cowl, lower my head and walk on. Horrific, shell-like vehicles race onto the scene, each carrying a contingent of civic guards. Weapons are drawn. Those tiny communication shards are much in evidence. A group of carefully groomed humans race into the area, turn to face a bank of torches (I think they're torches), lick the food from off their teeth (each one checks the other) and begins  speaking into thick, little magic wands. A crowd gathers to watch. But I continue on my way and disappear into the still surviving, winding recesses of The Eternal City........

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