Monday, October 31, 2011


So we're all sitting on these old fashioned wood folding chairs. The watchman guy has them set up in the middle of this sort of wide aisle passing by a big, glass display case containing a life cast of the naked bodies of Chang and Eng, the first mass-marketed Siamese Twins. No, for real. They had these Chang and Eng hand puppets. But it was hard for the kiddies  to manipulate them, 'cause like what if little Lucas or Hezikiah had to wipe up a sneeze or something? That's why they're such collectors' items today.

Some vampire kid from the Main Line came too. Blackie, I think his name is. I think he has a thing for Baylah, but she's still stuck on her rich, human boyfriend. Papa's just sitting there with his arms folded staring off into space. He doesn't care what happens. He just goes with the flow.Jonathon and Sarah care. They're like two soccer  parents chairing a PTA meeting. She's even got this little, spiral note pad to write in. The watchman gave each of us a nice aroma candle. Scent's a little harsh though. Think he got 'em at the dollar store. But there ain't no little tables here, so everybody put 'em down on the floor under their chairs. That's why we look like a bunch a fancy, human shaped buffet entrees simmerin' they asses over a mess a wax-lip-smellin' tea lights. Strange looking, but so appropriate for Halloween.

Papa took out the glass shard and passed it around. We all seen it before. Baylah didn't. Blackie didn't. She picked it up and sniffed it. The Elvis-lookin'-kid licked the tip with his tongue. Papa held out his hand. They gave it back to him. He wrapped it up in a fancy pocket cloth and put it away. We  sat in silence for about a dozen heartbeats. The quarter-wit watchman but on an old Weird Al Yankovich cassette. Papa yells - Turn that shit the hell off!! Watchman don't move fast enough, so Papa just scoops it up and drop-kicks it out one a the, hundred and fifty year old, quarter inch thick, panes in the original, iron framed sky-light. Lucky Twenty Second Street's deserted this late at night. Watchman says - I'm sorry. Jus thought you'd like some background music. Blackie gets a fit a laughing. Papa shoots him a look and his chair goes poof and disappears in a puff a smoke. This causes the ambient gravity in the room to yank his ass down, right on top a that little scented candle flame. And he starts bouncin' 'round and yelpin' like one a the Three Stooges. Baylah impatiently snaps her fingers transforming the tiny tushie-flames into miniature, wined monkeys, who fly off his ass and race out through the broken skylight, taking the searing pain along with them. The kid (who now sports a pair a jeans like the ones made famous in that Ryan O'Neal classic, 'So fine.' (google it. he made butt-less jeans. there, now you know) mouths a silent 'thank you' and sits down onn a cold, marble sarcophagus.

Sarah says - Look, if you all have so much power, why are we concerned about that shard of glass? Can't you just 'magic' away any danger? Papa sighs ans says - This isn't Bewitched. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but you see the Green Lantern around here, you dumb bitch?........... Jonathon gets all protective and puts his arm around her. You  know the Spanish accent comes out when he gets all worked up...... Pleez, show some respeck wan you tawg to mai woo-man - he growls............... Papa exhales impatiently (but I guess some little fart of uncontrollable magic popped out, 'cause Jonathon's now dressed in a tight, little Flamenco outfit, complete with a chenille-ball-trimmed, chin-corded Zorro hat, doing his best Jose Greco imitation all over the mezzanine............ You like your little display!? You think this is funny!? - screams the twenty eight thousand year old reluctant patriarch and WHOOSH, Jonathon is back in his chair, just as he was. Except he still got that tight, little cumberbun (or whatever it is) cutting into his waist, but he finally manages to unfasted the back, which sends in flying into the air and over the balustrade to the main floor down below..

I'm sorry - whispers Papa. But you don't understand. You think you want to save humanity? Better worry about saving the world first. He takes out the needle-like shard and levitates it right above his finger tip. It glistens in the dim 'after-hours' illumination, as it vibrates and emitts a barely audible, high pitched tone........This is not glass. This is not crystal. It isn't even diamond. It's something else. And it comes from another world.......... Where? - says Sarah.

Papa doesn't answer, but erupts into a low, sinister chuckle. Every doo-dad and tchotchkie in the place  begins to vibrate. A startled Blackie vaults off his perch, leaping up to a clerestory  window frame far, far above, as he yells - Damn, I hope they got insurance!

Out on the street, a passing bum looks up from his butt hunt (cigarett, I mean) to see the whole building vibrate. It teeters on the brink of disintegration, then sighs and settles down exactly as it was. While from deep inside, he hears the sound of Papa's crazy laughter.

The terrified old bastid breaks into his best arthritic hip run and skip-gallops 'round the corner.

We FOCUS ON a TIGHT SHOT of Edith drinking her morning coffee. She picks up the paper and reads - GAS EXPLOSION CAUSES EXTENSIVE DAMAGE AT CENTER CITY MUSEUM.

INTERIOR - The Mutter Museum............A uniformed crew carefully cleans the debris away. While safe in their glass display case, one of the plaster Siamese Twins turns his head toward the chaos and begins to slowly smile.........

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Sunday, October 30, 2011


I spent the next day walking up and down Germantown Avenue. No more gray, cold rain. A beautiful fall day. Had some coffee, which was actually more like a hot, sweet milk shake. Bought a couple magazines. Sat in this nice litttle, cozy library they have and relaxed. My eye did itch a little, but not much. The trees are finally beginning to blush. Some go red. Some go orange. Some yellow. Some  brown. I like the way the dead ones curl up and crunch under my feet. They love being turned into mulch.

Papa felt sorry for me. Jonathon did too. But it was Sarah who slipped me the twenties. Bought some sneakers. Just a pair of retro Pumas. Don't have to be fancy. Worked on my screenplay while I was in the library. I do that sometimes. Not on the lap-top. I left that at home. Wrote down lots of ideas and a few scenes in a black and white, wide ruled, grade school composition book. Not technologically correct, but it's what I do. You want to know what the screenplay's about? It's about all this. It's about life. I change it all around. Jonathon is a Scot. Sarah's still the same. Baylah don't look like Beyonce in this one. We still got elves and cherubs, only they don't live with us. Papa never showed up. Only we got this cool guy, The Kahn. Ever see Keanu Reeves in that Buddah movie? Well, then you know what I mean.

They're having a meeting  tonight. All the vampires are getting together at the Mutter Museum. Now THAT is one interesting place. Close your eyes and picture an old tick-tock, wood floored, dim and shuttered mid-Victorian curiosity collection. Dust where there should be dust. Long, ebony framed, glass display cases. And some of the weirdest, most sickening specimens you've ever seen. If you want to visit, don't go before lunch. Go after. Look, I'm sure I told you about this place before, but we get a lot of first time readers around here, so we got to do a lot of back-tracking. You want to know which prized exhibit I like best? The 'two-headed, pickled, white baby.' No, really, they got a whole mess of them, each one labeled according to 'race.' But the white ones look like Ray Bradbury made them. One's got a big, sick, twisted ear-to-ear smile. And his connected at the hip brother's got two of his fingers jammed up his ass. Just a pair of bleached out, skinny, little bad boys, bobbing around in a big jar of pickle juice. What a way to spend the first part of eternity.

The night watchman is a friend of theirs. Not actually a familiar. They feel sorry for him. It's not that he's a half-wit. That would not be right. He's more like a quarter wit, but he does try hard. Got a prize winning Pez collection and everything. They give him money and chicken nuggets and all. He lets them duck inside for a pitstop on cold dark nights. It's where they go to talk. They could talk at home, but there's something about the atmosphere. Humans are rarely invited. I'm going because I was almost half blinded. But you know that from last night. The elves and cherubs don't take part in this stuff. Maybe Annie will. I don't know.

I showed that thin, little needle-like shard of glass to Jonathon. He held it up to the light bulb and looked at it real hard. Papa looked at it too. They made a lot of faces, but they didn't say nothing. Then Edith held out her hand. She wanted to see, so they gave it to her. Started sucking in a lot of air, but that's all she did. I asked them what they saw. I wanted to know what they thought. But Papa just told me to go to sleep.

Usually, I try to be all snug in bed by the time they come in. I don't know why. It just feels better that way. Maybe I don't want to see them after they've killed somebody. Yeah, they don't do it every night. But who knows. Only having a crystaline dart fly into your eye makes you see things. Sounds funny, but that's what it does. I've been around them more than a year. You think I know a lot? Bullshit. I don't know crap. Maybe tonight I'll get a few lessons.......

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Saturday, October 29, 2011


I'm still a little nervous about it. Well, maybe more than a little. Not in a million years did I ever think they'd come after me. I don't have any powers. I can't to anything major. I just organize this blog for them...... But something did come for me....And I don't know why. Maybe I was just a sign or a signal of what could happen. You know, like when the Nazis (when they were first getting noticed) would rip open the belly of a little dog as a preview to what the owner and his kids could expect next.

There's a small balcony opening off one of the upstairs bedrooms. Nobody uses it. Edith still sees that it's clean and dusted and all. A cozy space, actually. I'll go out there sometimes. Could be day. Could be night. I'll sit on one of the old painted, metal chairs (there's two of them) and look at the clouds, or maybe the stars. It's miserable here today, rainy, slushy snow, a bone chilling damp. A sad, little leak weeps its way through the roof and bounces into a rubber pail  out in the hallway. Luck one of the Red Paint guys saw it. We like this place. Hate to have anything happen to the hardwood floors, or to that nice, wool runner even.

Guess we'll need a roofer. The Red Paints aren't too sure of themselves when it commes to that. Any other 'family' would just call somebody. But we have to be careful. All the vampires (and that means Annie and the elves and cherubs too) have to sleep down in the sub-basement. No passing the day upstairs. I don't know. Edith thinks they have a 'familiar' for things like that. But she can't remember.

Sarah and Jonathon were already out when it happened. He's off his praying jag, at least for now. Still, I don't think he's going to kill anyone tonight. Probably just walk around the dark, wet streets. They enjoy that. The vampires, I mean. We got these really good, British made umbrellas. They take one of the big ones, huddle under it and go. No trim, little leather bootkins tonight. This is hiking boot weather. He's got these well made, oiled ones. Sarah's got these black, shiny rubber boots. Look like riding boots, only their rubber. They look so poetic with their scarves and some big city couple in a movie you's see at Sundance.

I was out on the balcony and looked up to watch a plane. It's like a reflex with me. I always watch planes. It was dark. It was drizzling. Couldn't even see the plane, just hear it. Rain started getting in my eyes. But I had this water-proof hoodie thing on. AndI like weather like that. Sit out in the rain all the time. Why? If you wipe the water off the chair and put down a plastic trash bag it's all right. That's what I do. That's what I did.

But one of those silvery, little spears of liquid falling through the void wasn't water. It was glass. Pierced a hole right through my cornea (right through a lot of stuff actually) and into that aloe-vera like gel we got in the middle. The taller Red Paint guy heard me screaming and yelling. He ran out and carried me in. Those Paint People are strong, old dudes. I was kickin my legs and thrashing around trying to pull it out. He sat on me so I'd be still. Then he hollered for his brother to get one of the cherubs ( a couple of them were watching a DVD of  Dumbo in the family room). The old guy comes racing in, carrying one of the chubby, little dumplings. It sees what happened, squirms up out of his arms and flies over. Then it hovers over my face (I could not see. They told me after.) scrapes the inside of its cheek with its tiny, rough-tipped tongue and lets a drop or two of  magic-baby-vampire blood plop right in my eye. How could anybody want to kill the cherubs? I could hear it gurgling in sympathy. And one heartbeat later the pain was all gone. Red Paint guy comes over, leans in and carefully pulls the crystaline needle right out. Cherub gives me another bloody eye-kiss for good measure, backs away and smiles. You know how cute chubby babies look when they smile, especially all wrapped up snug in one of those soft, knit outfits Edith keeps them in. I could see that. He was wearing a green one, with matching booties. I smiles back. We both started laughing.

Got to start paying more attention to the cherubs. Edith and the elves look after them all right. But I want to start paying attention to them too. I did go back down to the family room with him. I did watch the rest of Dumbo with them. We laughed when they made him up like a clown. We clapped when he flew. (the cherubs wish everybody could fly) We cried when his mama got locked up in circus jail. It was nice. Then we played with this little, plastic whack-a-mole game they have. Gave them each a few whiffs of their favorite aroma candle (chocolate) and tucked them in. Not for the day. This is just like a nap time. I like to watch them doze off. Winkin, Blinkin and a fourth one too. Sleep well, little pudgies.

Now I'm sitting in the kitchen tapping this out. Didn't think I'd be able to, but I guess spending time with the little ones calmed me down. Still, I do jump everytime the heater makes a noise, or when Edith shuffles her cards. Saved the glass shard. I want to show it to Jonathon. I want to see what he thinks............

Please escuse any typing or spelling errors. Even though I am OK, deep inside I'm still a little shaken up.

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Friday, October 28, 2011


Jonathon retreated into silence, as he often did at these times. He sat in the chapel and prayed. Papa watched from the door. He wanted to comfort him, but he felt guuilty too. Why had he converted the injured, young man? Could he have saved him? Would a small draught of blood have been enough? How many times has he walked this way? When he languished in the rock-lined pit far beneath the Trinitarian Capital and fed on their pathetic captives he cried. How many times had he considered ending it all? A quick 'sublimation' into the sixteen foot thick granite walls. Solidification while still within the living rock. How liberating it would have been to feel each fluid-filled cell in his body crushed and distroyed. But he did not do this thing. Even an old one knows fear. And he laid there, in darkness and suffered. His captives, not a true faction of their creed, but an unofficial band of covert alchemists, sought knowledge. They craved power. And what better place to steal it then from the enchanted blood of the vampire? How misunderstood they were. How exploited and tortured.

Ranking warlords knew the truth. Each vied for his own captive 'life-eater.' Potentates bought and sold them like glittering baubles. Granted, some of the strong ones did manage to break free and exact a terrible revenge. But most were young. Many were weak. And escape but a dream. Yes, Jonathon sometimes did murderous things. So did Sarah. So did Luna, Annie and all the rest. But their sins were as snow compared to the transgressions of their tormentors. Jonathon would have said - A transgression is a transgression. Each one a crack in the in the oak of Jacob's Ladder....... That's why he worked so hard to mend them.

Papa thinks he'll go back to Jerusalem eventually. He'll make some kind of a gesture....a grand pronouncement. Maybe other local life-eaters will join him? They'll have to be brave. Satan creeps through many  windows. Countless ears attend him. What can some vampires do? Yet in his quiet times, when he lays upon his cot, he can see them. His soul flies free and he is there, watching from the shadows of Jerusalem, as Lailah and her mentor Jean-Michel try to do their best. Renate is there. Granted, she does not do much, but her deep abiding strength helps all.

The three musicians sing their songs, heard only by 'the choir.' Those occupying distant seats hear other hymns..... Well, maybe 'hymn' is not the proper word. Yet progress is made. A tentative reconcilliation grows. Perhaps these things need time? Some bulbs can't be forced.

Let him pray. Papa will not disturb him. He'll get dressed, go out into the city and confront the boney ghoul. Sarah means to accompany him. She prepares herself. He hears her. Johnny-Jump-Up....The Bone Cracker....The Flesh Ripper. What brought him back? Who quickened that vile corpse? How can they destroy him? Baylah's tried many times in the past. So did Bob. (remember him?- a simple minded, good hearted vampire, who actually allowed himself to be put on You Tube, the dumb son of a bitch). Johnny-Jump-Up, how will they fight him? He 'POPS" out of existence, traveling to God knows where, whenever they come near.  And will his 'death,' if they should accomplish such a thing, mean that much? ........ The wind is but a symphony of sighs - That's what Jonathon would say. Little things mean a lot. Tiny scales a dragon makes. So they would go and seek him out. Could he kill them? Baylah always survived.

Vampire life is a funny thing. These volitile beings do so much. Some good. Some bad. And they feel it all. Maybe child vampires, like Annie are luckiest. All she wants are toes...................

Shhhhhhh, the young Andalician is still at his devotions.........Hear him?........Listen, he recites the Amidah, the personal conversation between each believing soul and God. .......He whispers - THOU, O LORD ART MIGHTY FOREVER.  THOU CALLEST THE DEAD TO IMMORTAL LIFE, FOR THOU ART MIGHTY IN DELIVERANCE....

What a curiousity he must seem. Jonathon, the believing vampire...... Yet what can I tell you?

Faith never dies.........

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Thursday, October 27, 2011


Yeah, I know. It's been a while. Since the middle of the summer to be exact. But to me, that's like maybe fortyfive minutes ago. COME ON! Don't be an ee-jit! It's me, Blackie, the trim, little vampirino of The Main Line. Vampirino...I guess you're used to that word. You spend enough time with that sorta Spanish fellah, don't ya? What? You want me to tell you where I come from? Keep dreamin, sunshine. Sure, I retain a bit o' the East End in me voice, but what's 'at prove? Coulda picked that up any time. That's all. 'Sides, the 'tender cuts' likes it. Gives me a l'il distinction.

Right now we are sittin' on a nice bench on a picture book winding lane snakin' it's merry way through some girls' school. Posh, little college, I think it is. They likes me in these parts. Lets me up in the dormitories  for a friendly 'how-de-do' anytime. Yep, Blackie's a legend 'round here. Oh, they know I'm not a ghost. Nothing like Moaning Mertyl. Though I does show up in the shower room on occassion. Good back scrubber, I am. Gives a spankin' fresh wash-out, I does. Then kisses 'em in all the right nooks and crannies when it's over. Well... just before it's over.

How does an honest, nice to touch and look at, vampire boy like me make his living? Don't  worry. I gets a wee hot dram every once in a while. Little nip on the cheek... all four of 'em. They giggle. They swoon. They pass me on to their friends. It's like a ceremony 'round here. Been goin' on since the fifties. The 'Black Harem, they calls themselves. We light candles, make promises, spank a mess a quivverin', little, naked bums. The spankin' part is my job. I give a good lickin', I does.

Sure I require a proper meal every once in a while. That's what undocumented kitchen help are for. And not just kitchen help, not sinnce the Celtic Tiger lost a few stripes anyway. Oh, don't give me the 'hard eyed' up and down like that. I only takes the nasty sort. Just 'cause folks are grubbin' 'round for a little silver don't make 'em all saints or something. Keeps me firm and fit, it does. Come on, you likes the way I looks. Elvis-haired, blue-eyed, wicked angel-boy. This much I will share. Them that 'made' me did it in the summer. Got me with a tan... all over, burnt caramel smooth. Sure, I likes talkin' 'bout me self. We vampires are a very vain race. Ain't yer 'Jonathon' the same way? And stake her a few score years. Sarah's gonna cook up that way too.

But this ain't why I called you here. Wanna do a good deed, that's why. I know I don't prowl the city. Not my part of the forest. Not my huntin' ground . But I do sneak down to pick up a few things every now and then. Jonathon fancies his sleek, fine trousers and those leather bootkins. I likes me snug, little, white, cotton boxers and Turkish soap, I does. Can't always find it in these parts. So I takes me chances and trespass into foreign territory. Sublimates through the walls of certain worthy establishments and indulges in a bit a midnight shopping. That's when I seen 'im. Johnny-Jump-Up, I mean. The cadaverously thin, bleached white, lank-haired ghoul. No, no, no! He ain't no vampire. Should only be so lucky. That bloke was buried alive. That's what made him that way. 'Spose a spot a magic helped too. But don't mess with that much, so can't say.  But he had his cold, boney hand on the back of some poor girls neck. Saw it through the shop window. Did he know I was there? Who cares? What difference does it make? That don't mean nothing to him......

But the girl looked scared. Don't know why she didn't scream. Runnin' wouldn't do much good. Hell, that shitty demon can jump up to a third or fourth floor window. Bounces 'round like a dead maniac, he does. 'Johnny-Jump-Up,' that's how he got his name. Been wearin' the same, tight, dusty black suit for a hundred and sixty years. Guess the dampness makes it  shrink up like that. God only knows where he hides.

The next day cops found her body...what was left of it. Most was all chewed up. The flesh, I mean. No face left. Little bit a mmeat on her hands and feet, but that was it. Some hair on her skull maybe. Family identified the clothes. That and the dental work. Told 'em to keep quiet. Don't want no panic. City Hall knows about him, they does. Press knows too. But what are they gonna say? So the families get like maybe a quarter million dollars hush money and Center City night spots go on as usual. Looks like he's on a tear, too. So keep an eye peeled.

And remember who told you................ Happy Halloween...........

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Wednesday, October 26, 2011


Jonathon and Sarah are real quiet now. He feels like he did wrong. She does too. He sits in this little chapel they got, praying and praying. It's crazy the things they do. How they can brutally tear apart people and then on the way back home, have the driver stop so they can pick up the cinnamon raisin bagels Edith likes at this little bakery. It was so early, they got 'em fresh, while they were still hot.  She saw 'em on the counter in the kitchen when she got up. Ate two of 'em toasted with cream cheese. She knows she's supposed to cut down (yes, she does check in with some kind of a G.P. from time to time), but as long as the vampires slip her a few drops of their special 'Whammo' blood when she needs it, what does she care? If the Red Paints hadn't snuck in when they did she might have finished off three of them.

I saw our two psycho killers before they went out. No killing tonight. This is gonna be just one a them 'walkin' around' evenings. He stuffed his pockets with some loot from the sub-basement vault...pieces of gold jewelry....some premium watches......the deed to a condo in Haddonfield, New Jersey. Don't ask. They got lots a stuff. And this is nothing new. He does it whenever he gets like this. Tries  to buy absolution for doin' nasty.  The girl, Sarah, follows his lead. She got a few diamond solitaires to distribute too.

But here's the good part a bein' a disembodied spirit. I can float out after 'em. Makes it easy for me to keep you all filled in. Right now, we are sashayin' down Locust Street in Center City. Not too many people around. This is just a week night. after all. He see's some young guy. You know the type - not quite homeless, but teeterin'.  Walkin' round with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, tryin' to keep warm. Jonathon calls to him. He says - Yo, dude (our boy speaks the vernacular), think you can use this? -----Then he flashes some thick, heavy diamond watch. Rolex, I think it is....... The skinny young guy comes over. He looks at it. Doesn't touch it... just looks. Jonathon smiles. Sarah takes his arm. She smiles too.....The skinny guy says - Why? What do you mean?.............We don't mean anything. - says Sarah. You ever see that 'Cash Cab' TV show?.....Y-yeah? - answers the guy..........Well, this is just like that, only you don't have to get in no cab and you don't have to answer no questions..............Jonathon gives the watch a little wave and ads - Worth at least twenty thousand dollars. Even if you just let it go for the gold they should give you five...thousand, I mean.............Why you doing this to me? - whispers the guy............ He wants it real bad, but he's still a little scared.........Look, he's startin' to chew on his lip and everything............... Sarah says - Let's just say you're our good deed for the day........... Jonathon gives the watch a little shake, turns his head to the side and starts whistling........ The skinny guy reaches out his hand and takes it. But before he can manage to croak out a nervous 'thank you,' our night-crawlers turn and flash down that damp, narrow street like two 'Roadrunners' or something...... Guy stands there all slack-jawed a second or two, then turns and does the same thing. Only not so fast and nowhere near as smooth.

The two vampires do the same thing all over town. A char-woman coming off shift goes home with seventy five thousand dollars worth of 'Robin's Blood' rubies. Some pathetic wino wakes up to find his pockets stuffed with ten, little one ounce ingots  of solid gold. Old lady leaving an emergency room all by herself gets the deed to the condo in Jersey (with instructions to visit a 'familiar' lawyer in his office, just to finalize the deal). Some asked if they were crazy. Jonathon said- Yes.......And that seemed to explain it all. No more questions. Case closed. In all fairness, the char-woman did offer to reciprocate via some fast 'standin' up' sex. And she was a bit dissappointed when they turned her down. But two additional vouchers good for eight tickets to some ice show seemed to restore a little bit of her selfesteem.

They ended the night in Little Pete's on Seventeenth Street. Is it still called LittlePete's? I can't remember. But you know, that cozy, little coffee shop/diner they got near the Warwick? Ordered two 'decaf' coffees. Like it's gonna make a difference. Jonathon slips the Mexican kid two twenties, asks for a couple traveling cups and they leave. He feels better...just a little...She does too...... And a few minutes later (after a discreet cell phone call), their favorite cab driver picks 'em up in front of Boyd's for the comfy ride home.....

Johnny-Jump-Up saw it all from his hidey-hole amongst the garbage in a nearby dumpster. And when they left, he scrabbled out to warm himself in a moist, hot cloud a steam hissing up through an old corroded grate, from boilers far below.........

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Tuesday, October 25, 2011


The two well fed vampires walked down through the mostly empty parking garage. Neither said a word. Jonathon palmed the bald guy's watch. It's a Breitling. Costs maybe twenty thousand dollars. The wife's ear studs were real too. Weigh like a carat each. Sell for like ten, twelve thousand dollars. The guy had cash too, fifteen hundred , but it was something. So now  you know how vampires accummulate so much wealth over the centuries. It's unbelievable what they got.

The Puerto Rican kid in the little booth didn't even pick his head up when they went by. He knows the drill. He gets paid. They pay off kids in garages all over town. These two like to hunt in garages. No reason. Just their pattern. Jonathon took Sarah's hand. They squared back their shoulders and set off for a tiny, jewel-box apartment. Clothes looked all funny. But who gonna stop 'em? They use that place as a pit stop. The girl living there is another familiar. She gets a call (from Jonathon's cell phone), goes down to the little well set up lobby and buzzes them in. They got a few  buildings like this around town. Not everybody wants a doorman. Some people need their privacy. Who has to know their business?

Let's see. I'd guess this piece a baggage for about forty seven or fifty years old. What, you're upset 'cause I called her a girl? Just being polite. She gets her hair styled. She stays thin. Does throat and jaw exercises. Wears the right make-up. Keeps her teeth all nice and clean. You'd be surprised how many people do not do that. So what am I supposed to call her? When she gets  fixed up with toupee-wearin', pinkie ringed, old daddies, they say - I got a nice girl for you. Don't nobody say no 'woman.' Callin' some single ladies a woman like callin' her a 'man' or something. You know what I mean?

So they go upstairs. She lives on the third floor. One room is all set up with extra clothes and all. Nice place too. The ruined stuff gets wadded up and burnt in the fireplace. Yeah, it's a pre-War building. Why? Then they shower off in a glass enclosed, designer tiled, big-enough-for-two stall. Ever stay in a fine hotel? You know what it's like. Little bit later they sit in the living room. Maybe sip a few drops a absinthe, if they feel like. He gives the forty seven year or fifty year old a few different kind a drops if he wants to. Sarah thumbs through a couple lady stuff magazines. The girl calls their regular cab driver (also a familiar). Jonathon leaves her all the bald guy's cash. And they go home. ........ But nobody says anything on the ride back. They just sit real quiet and think.

He imagines what the kids'll feel. Maybe they had some old parents. Maybe some nice lady sitting in a bed, locked away in some pissed up nursing home. She cherishes each and every visit. Who's gonna run to see her now? Who's gonna bring her small orders of rigatoni and meat balls ?(can't eat no big order) It's sad. When vampires get all hepped up, they do not think about those things. Yes, they DO kill evil people sometimes. They DO (on occasion) 'cull' people sent to them in visions. You remember hearing all that stuff. That's what they want you to think. Especially Jonathon. It's like a weakness with him. Whoops. Have I been calling him 'Jonathon'? Sigh...... Oh......Why am I doing this?........Look, when he feels real guilty. When things don't go right.  When they got little kids. Or they had really good hearts. Or maybe just did not deserve it, he gets that way. Pretends he is really somebody else. It's the guilt. That boy is still a major believer. Shit, faith never dies. Not real faith anyway. Edith and the others back at the house know how he is. They call him 'Jonathon' when he's all right and 'nuthin' when he's not. Maybe that wilkravitz don't know yet. He's only been there about a year. But the elves know. Even the cherubs feel something. Sarah's new too. but she's starting to understand. Hell, if I had to bet, I'd say she don't want a be called 'Sarah' right now either.

Nobody talks to them. Everybody keeps away. They can read it on their faces. They know. He takes her down to the special, little built-in sleeping cabinets they got tucked into the basement. Don't even stop to mess with the slave girls or nothing. I can't tell you how they reconcile that 'slave girl' business.. Who knows what a vampire sees? But sometimes I catch him lookin' at his hands, or payin' close attention to his jaw line in a mirror. So young. He looks so young. They all do. You hardly ever see an old one. And he starts thinkin' things. That I can sorta feel. Pictures his flesh and you should pardon the expression 'blood' family. Hell, they ain't even little chips a bone by now. That's what he thinks. That's what they all think. A few get numb to it. One's like Papa and Renate, I mean. But even numbness gives way to a little 'pins and needle' tingle every now and then.........I am telling you, vampires are some major complicated shit.

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Monday, October 24, 2011


Remember Jonathon and Sarah up above the grand, ornate ceiling of the Academy of Music, peering down at their tentative 'dinners' through the intricate, gilt, filagreed scroll-work surrounding the magnificent, over-sized, crystal chandelier? Well, we're back there. That's where we are now. Who am I? Who's narrating this? You know me. I'm Mister Never You Mind. Some a them other  disembodied spirits don't like to get involved with the bloody stuff. Reminds them of their own 'final curtains,' if you get my drift. But I don't care. Shit, they burnt me up. And that didn't make me crazy... just dead. Still, let me tell you, it rips you up something fierce, 'specially when that fire decides it wants to go see what's doin' down your throat and in your malf. Do you understand how sensative the insides of your lips and tongue are? Can you imagine what a corn-dog goes through when they lower it into the one thousand degree oil? Damn, them pig assholes is probably happy they already dead at that point. To bad my scrotum warn't dead when they lit me up. Pain? Torture? Regular pain and torture would a been a treat. Ever touch a hot clothes iron by mistake, or like because you craved a little hot tickle or something? Multiply that by zippity-million. My finger nails and toe nails melted right off my body. And even though my seared lungs couldn't work no more, that didn't mean my heart stopped. That don't mean I blacked out. No siree. Takes two or three minutes for that to happen. I can make people I hate dream what I went through when I really want to. What happens  to 'em? They die, mostly, from a stroke or a heart attack. Ax me some other night. I'll tell you who they were. But we gotta get back up there in that fancy ceiling..........

The fat lady sang, only the show warn't over yet. Not till a bunch a big bellied white guys all dressed up like the Burger King, jabbed each other in the gut wit deez retractable, fake Halloween swords and shit. Then it was over. I guess over in Europe, fat white guys wiff devil-looking, painted-on goatees yodel a lot before they die. Who knows? What do I know?

Jonathon motions down toward the bald guy sitting toward the front. Sarah nods her head. He got a juicy wife too, so there gonna be enuff for both a them. Then they wait a few minutes for all the people to squeeze they wide loads outta there. You know how the people sittin' up the front wind up havin' to wait for all the other God damn shits to wake up and shuffle out 'fore they can leave? Well, that's just  how it is. The two vampires shimmy back outta that crawl space and run down the stairs. They can weave in and out a slow, crippled up white people real fast. You know, vampires got that ability. Like some crazy-leg football player. Like dancers, skippin' here and skippin' there. Didn't even knock anybody over too, or smash into any trussed-up tittie. Boom! Twenty seconds later they was at the bottom (eight full levels down), standin' there behind the orchestra seats, just as they supper goes by. The vampires fall in behind  and follow 'em out onto the street. And it's a madhouse out there. People fighting for taxi-cabs, yellin' at them valet kids they got. Some race across the street so they can likker themselves up in a hotel bar, or maybe shove a big piece a cheese cake and a cup a coffee down they throat.Everybody know eatin' and drinkin' after a show the best part.

Only the bald  guy and his missus don't head for any a those places. They clip-clop (you know how rich people shoes sound on cement?) 'round the corner onto Sansom Street. Are  you by any chance familiar with Diagon Alley in them Harry Potter books? Well, this is it. Little below street level taverns, book shops, fortune tellers, mystery places. Oh, they got some nice establishments too. Only we're talkin' 'bout late on a Saturday night. And how many people you think wanna eat fresh oysters (good ones too) at six minutes after midnight? So they come to some grimy, damp, multi-level parking garage. He cheap. that bald guy cheap. Wife hardly talks to him. She knows. Got her rings all turned around so the diamonds don't face the outside. Heh, heh, heh, they just what they call...cubic zirconiums? But she don't know that. Only one sleepy, Porta-Reeka kid on duty, but they don't gotta pay him till they come back down. So he push a real loose metal button, hangin' off a oilly aluminum plate. They wait a couple minute till the rickety elevator with the paid-off-under-the-table inspection sticker comes down. She sighs and gets in. He gets in and jabs his pudgy finger at level six. Doors squeak close and the depart.

Now there is a reason why so many movies and TV shows have these big scenes in deserted parking garages. They like waitin' rooms for hell. All grease stained. Little bitty weak, yellow lights. Damp, wet cinder-block walls, wide rectangular pillars. If you look real fast, you  can even see a few champion size, crunchy water bugs runnin' 'round.  Only three or four cars left up there, two big , old SUV's (I think some Chinese joint uses them for catering or somethin' , a seven year old silver Jaguar (the cheap version) and theirs. Don't need no key to open the door, 'cause he got this little oblong pea-pod wit buttons on it. I tink his chariot called a Nissan Maxima. Me, I like Packards myself. Wife give him a dirty look (she standin' on the other side, waitin' for him to click her in). He chokes on a little bit a neck-snot (you know how it can get ya?) and drops his little pea-pod . But before he can crack his joints and squat down to get it, Jonathon steps out from behind a pillar (never park next to them pillars) and crunches it into the dirty asphalt wiff one a his trim, neat, well shod feet. Bald guy looks all surprized. Not shocked yet. It's too fast for that. The wife sees whats happening an starts runnin'.  Sarah leaps down from somewhere up above and flattens her. Woman starts shakin', tries to screw off all the fake rings and give 'em to her. Sarah just grins, as she shoves 'em into the bitches malf and jams it shut. The woman cries and trembles, as a runny, little stream a blood comes outta her lips. Sarah just leans in close and kisses her. Licks up most a the blood too. The husband starts yellin'. Jonathon cold cocks him square in the face. Smashes his nose. Blood all over the place. Man in shock. Vampire moves in real fast and bites it off. The nose, I mean. Then he balls up boaf his fists and pounds the guy  right on boaf his ears. You would have to see it to believe it, but one eyeball actually flew out the socket, hangin' down there on his quivverin' cheek like somethin' outta Mad Magazine. Guy falls down on his knees. Ever hear knee-caps crunch? Won't forget that sound. But that bastid never heard it, cause his wind pipe ripped out 'fore his pants touch the ground. Jonathon all manic by then, like a pit bull tearin' 'part a Chihuahua. Sarah havin' fun wif the wife too, rippin' off ears. Hell, that vampire gal sank her teeth into one a the cheeks and tore the whole think off. You know the noise when they rip open a big, thick, corregated cardboard box? Thats what is sounded like. Made her look just like a Zombie. Not Sarah, the other one.  Took 'em boaf about seventy two heartbeats to suck up all the blood. I never seed vampires gnaw marrow out dah backbone, but I seed it then. That was some show, better than the opera, lemme tell yuh.

Tink they killed some other couple too. But that was just like a quick dessert. They were mostly bored and stuffed by then.

I know they gonna be sorry you all know 'bout this, but what the hell do I care? Can't disembody my spirit outta me no second time.

They gonna feel guilty though.........But them hoomins back at the house gonna have to deal wiff that......
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Sunday, October 23, 2011


Edith is sitting in the kitchen playing solitare. I'm sitting on the floor by the cocktail table in the family room typing this out. Please don't pick apart my clerical skills. I'm having a hard time finding the right keys tonight, because I feel a little queasy. Sarah wanted to give me a few drops (vampire blood) before she left. Funny, I kept to myself. I tried to avoid them. You know they can be dangerous at times. Not usually, but you never know. Still, she sensed it. She took a vial out of her purse and left it on the island in the kitchen. When I went in there, Edith said - That's for you. Take it. You'll feel better.........But I didn't take it. Maybe if they weren't so deep into their 'We're dangerous predators. Be careful' mode I would have. But I'm a human bean, thank you. And for the forseeable future, I'd like to mostly remain one. Besides, Tums work almost as good. Well, maybe fifteen percent as good.

The TV is on. Some women are fixing up a house. Edith likes those shows. Actually, they all do, the vampires most of all. Very anal, that race is. Neatly squared off rooms mean a lot. The fastidiousness of  Dracula. I guess it comes from commiting so many gruesome, bloody murders. Order at home. Chaos out on the streets. But I have to say...this place looks great. The floors have a rich, woddy gleam. The upholstered pieces have carefully stiitched welting in all the right places. Thick, fringed wool rugs anchor seating areas. The library looks just like a library should look. I'm telling you, a United States Senator, or like a cabinet secretary could live here. More slabs a granite in the kitchen and bathrooms than in a small church yard. And if something breaks, the Red Paint guys just whip out their tools and make it all better. We think one of them is about ninety two. The other one maybe three years younger. They got a rough 'I ain't young, but I'm still strong' old farmers. And they're good in the garden too. We got pumpkins, gourds and dried cornstalks comin' out the wazoo. Looks like Martha Stewart went tastefully berserk all over the front of this  house. You should see it. They even put these little painted pumpkins with fall color plaid ribbons on their stalks 'round the edge of the sub-terranean pit. I don't know if the naked slave girls can appreciate it from their vantage point, but the rest of us think it looks real nice.

Annie's still out bitinng off toes somewhere. The elves and cherubs are off getting into mischief. I don't know if they're gonna actually drain anybody to the point of death tonight. They RARELY do that, but seeing how the bigger life-eaters been acting, who the hell knows. Juveniles are extreemly impressionable. Lemme go ask Edith if she can key in on out two sweetie-pies, Jonathon and Sarah, I mean. We KNOW where Papa is. He's playing hide the salami with a couple Mole girls. That's his favorite game. Loves being immortal. cause it give him more time to hide more salamis.

Edith puts down the cards, some deck that Baylah got her from the Borgata's Poker room. Then she clicks off the TV, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The house is quiet. I can hear the tick, tick, tick of the tall case clock (grandfather clock) in the living room. The lights are low (we got these really easy to modulate pot lights in the kitchen--- got the idea from Candace Olson on HGTV --- the Red Paint guys put 'em in). She breathing like a fortune teller....... I say - Well?.......She just keeps on breathing and ignores me......Then she makes this little fart (squirms around, so I'd think it was the chair, but I know it wasn't no chair) and starts to talk. (I guess releaseing small poofs of methane is part of the ritual). She says --- Two will die, a man and wife. The second quite deserved her life. (Then a few heartbeats of silence) The killers then ran out to play. Two more will die before the day......... Where is this all happening? - I ask............And she continues - A hall where fat girls go to sing. And near a statue of a king.......................So I go back into the family room and google halls, fat girls, singing, Philadelphia. A few seconds later the screen lights up with a list of Center City opera venues. Then I google statues of kings in Philadelphia and get a list with everything from a life sized Elvis somewhere on South Street (where all the hippies meet) to a bust of M.L.K. up in North Philly. ........... What else is new? Then they'll come home all guilt ridden (like they always do when they don't stick to people sent to them in visions.... true evil doers, I mean), start slamming doors, giving everybody dirty looks, torturing the naked slave girls and making a holy mess. Lucky we got Edith and the Red Paint guys. Thank God foor them. shit, my stomach's starting to hurt again. Where's that vial? Edith reads my brain and takes it out of her sweater pocket. Then she slides it across the polished granite surface. I grab it, pull out the tight, little stopper and chug it down. Then I go all bleary eyed. She starts laughing like the crazy, back woods Piney woman that she is. I give out a little burp and everything's all right. Even my eyesight gets a little better. And I don't know why, but I can remember Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Oughta sell this crap to S.A.T. kids. Can you imagine what a whole gut full a this stuff is like? Soldiers should take it. They are trying to come up with an artificial version at that secret installation outside Jerusalem. If  you've been with us for a while, you know that.

Then I hear something. Two seconds later Annie comes sublimating in through the kitchen window (we got this real big architectural one), throws a few grungy, bitten off , old people's hammer toes, along with a Flintstones Halloween Coloring Book she boosted, onto the counter, where she proceeds to do a fake tap dance, while she pulls her skirt up over her head.

Such is life in our enchanted universe. I know you wanted to see the vampires kill somebody, especially after what you read last night, but you gotta remember. You gotta understand. We do not control this. And if  you go back to the first lines of the first episode that ever channeled through, you know that.......'cause right there it says ------- FIRST OF ALL WE MUST AGREE THAT WHAT COMES NEXT IS FICTION.........only the right word wasn't agree. It was pretend. So don't blame this on me. OK?

Fantasy is one thing. Reality is something else.

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Saturday, October 22, 2011


Jonathon and Sarah walked out onto the front lawn. It was already dark, naturally, and they habitually dressed in dark colors, so they were quite invisible. True, he can tolerate a bit of deep purple dusk, only it offends his vampiric nature. Darkness is the proper element. Sarah is still too new. She has no feelings one way or the other. But since any type of solar illumination has the potential to kill her, she goes along with her creator.

There's a small stand of evergreens out on the grass, three trees, each approximately twelve to eightteen feet tall. The side closest to the house throws an inky black shadow. Jonathon calls it 'the launch pad.' He steps into the darkness and motions for Sarah to join him. She does and they embrace. Close body contact is pivotal. Yes, she can sublimate on her own, though young vampires often encounter problems. And considering her recent, grievous injury in Jerusalem, who wants to take chances. So they held each other tight. She breathed in the scent of his cologne. What was it? Can't remember. I think it's that stuff Queen Victoria popularized. His 'familiars' pick it up for him at Saks in Center City. Eight hundred  dollars a bottle for that musky, sugary, piss water. But don't go by me. Disembodied spirits  (Zebulon, here) retain such a poor sense of smell. Perhaps it's pure ambrosia, rich with the oils of Shangri-La, or maybe just your grandmother's Jean Nate? What do I know?

Then he screwed up his concentration...held his breath...  squeezed his ass-cheeks together, just like a professional flamenco dancer (well, he MIGHT be Andalucian, after all) and they were off. Those magical, sub-atomic particles peculiar to the vampire race, called Prometheus Sparks (or quarks) began to vibrate. Strong pulses of energy coursed out from his body, engulfing his partner and exciting her fancy particles too. Sarah rather enjoyed that part of it. In less than a heartbeat they were sheathed in a misty invisibility. In two heartbeats they were gone, tearinng off through creation toward the urbane hunting grounds of Philadelphia's Center City. Nine ghost moans later, they were there.

The crowds down on the Avenue of the Arts were thick. Restaurants were full and the air positively crackled with the crisp, weekend charge of well-heeled suburban couples desperate to see and be seen. Our immortal twosome fit right in. Maybe ten or twenty years ago they would have stood out. She does appear to be a little older than him. But society has caught up and now they look just right. So hand in hand they strolled past The Kimmel Center, nodding and smiling to comely faces in the crowd. No rolling, brass oyster cart in any of the over-the-top dining establishments 'round here held such heady treats. What will it be? A cheating gold digger? Maybe an insincere, double-billing, attitude ridden physician? Jonathon loved them. Perhaps an ever so slightly respectable racketeer? That one over there, laughing with the couple exiting the Lexus , killed two people in his youth. Well, tits for tats. (is that how the mortals say it?) Tonight may be his night. Or, this could turn into an all-you-can-eat buffet. Evil doers, innocent, old maid school teachers, rabbis and circus clowns. Depends on their mood. You know the truth about these vampires now. So don't act surprized.

Jonathon knows someone. He has a familiar on staff at The Academy of Music. So they skip up the granite steps, past the still functioning gas street lights, waltz through the heavy glass and bronze doors and dissappear into the bright, crowded lobby. The man sees them. He quickly snakes through the human swamp and comes over. The handsome, stylish, young vampire leans close and whispers something his his ear. They smile and nod. Jonathon squeezes the man's shoulder in approval, as he and Sarah follow the loyal functionary deep into the hidden heart of this  gilt and velvet, one hundred and sixty year old house of mummery. Martin Scorsese used the place when he filmed The Age of Innocence. It is the most complete nineteenth century theatre in the country, with crystal chandeliers rivaling those in the Paris Opera House. But tonight the premises would be haunted by phantoms of another kind.

Fine, ornate, gold-leafed grill work circles each illuninated, glittering fixture. Workers can service these discreetly electrified confections via a tight crawl space running just above the ceiling. Jonathon and his mate occupied a snug, little perch up against the thick, iron hoist anchoring the main chandelier.What a perfect spot. How well suited to the task. They could gaze down at the slightly over heated audience, peering through the roccoco scroll work and make their decision. Who would it be? Who would die, victim to a romance glipsed only in their dreams. The bald man up front? What about Madam Face-Lift three rows back? Such choices. All I can say to these humans is don't go pee by yourself. Forget about exploring this dear old place. Hurry back to your seats and stay out of shadowy passageways, or you just might pee again......And then you'll die.....And then you'll disappear......A victim to The Music of the Night......

Douse the lights! Cue the overture. Let the opera begin..

And to all of you out there in lap-top-land, play something appropriate. Torandot would be nice......Yes, yes, yes, I know Nessun Dorma is a cliche. But it is that for a reason. Sink into its magic. And please come back tomorrow. For then the fun begins......


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Friday, October 21, 2011


The whole atmosphere in the house changed. The juveniles felt it. The elves and cherubs pick up on things like that. They knew. It was like anything can happen now. Not that there weren't episodes similar to this before. But this one felt different. This time the hunger was deeper and even more viceral. I don't know? Maybe it's like those werewolf myths, where they change and go on berserk killing sprees at the time of the full moon? Vampires have lunar cycles too. That, we know. Perhaps the need just builds and builds till it explodes? Maybe Jonathon is just bitter and disillusioned about what transpired in the Holy Land? Yet that doesn't explain Sarah. Let's see what she does tonight. Papa, their twenty eight thousand year old patriarch, in a thirty two or three year old body, had experience with all this. He knows. But he just sits there in his leather club chair staring at the fire and inhaling those aroma candles. Or he goes out and runs to his 'hootchies.' That's what Edith calls them. OK, maybe they ain't hootchies. Maybe they got just a little more class than that, even the ones livinng down in the tunnels. It's just that he has so many. And he loves them. And he bites them. And he strokes them. And he pleasures them. Then he comes home. The Red Paint guys want to ask  him what he knows. I can see it in their eyes. They're not always stoic and quiet. Sometimes they whisper to each other, or to Edith. Sometimes they go out in the back garden after a rain, especially at night. And I see them saying things to the air and the trees and the grass, or a vole maybe. They'll smile and grin. It's like they know each other. And from what I've seen, I think the birch trees are friendlier than the oaks, but that's just my opinion.

Annie's real quiet too. She's planning something. Edith says it's the toe hunger coming back. That's when she silently walks up to the foot of the bed of a sleeping human and cracks through the bones of their feet, biting off a toe or two before she kills them. Then she spits out the little toesies, wraps 'em up in a kleenex, or maybe a lot a kleenexes and takkes 'em home for her collection. It's funny, but those nipped off toes never spontaneously combust like the rest of the body. 'Magic''s just crazy.

The cherubs are dartin' about like flies in a smokehouse. They're gonna do some nasty stuff too. And they hardly ever do. Years go buy, decades they tell me, without a cherub 'kill.' They usually just zip by so fast you can't even see 'em. But then you feel this deep, stinging cut on the side of your neck, or on your face, or on your butt cheek and what do you know. Damn, it's really bleeding. They take a few drops here a wet kiss there and that's how they fill up. Except for the nasty times. Then they get like piranhas. Three or four manic, little cherubs can zip 'round a fat human so fast, whipping out those little tongues. In thirty five seconds (or twenty eight heartbeats, as the vampires say) he's ashes. No blood. Blue flame. Greasy residue. Nothing.

I keep to myself. They know I blog all this. They want me to. There's no real explanation for how they feel, or what they want. They're vampires. Look, we try our best to put a good spin on it, but they kill people. Sure, a lot of the victims deserve it.......but not all of 'em.

Wait till they all get out of here. Wait till it gets quiet. Won't be long. I can hear Jonathon and Sarah getting dressed now. He's slipping on those close fitting pants. She's adjusting the cups of some lacy, expensive, form-fitting brassiere. Fifteen more minutes and it'll be real still around here. Papa will be off playing cowboys and bar girls with his doxies. The other two will go catting 'round Center City. And the 'young ones' will just fly out into the night sky and raise hell. Edith'll sit down in the kitchen, eatting some cookies. Maybe she'll watch the little television over on the counter, do some word-search puzzles, or something. The Red Paint People will disappear. They're humans, but they give me worse creeps that the so called 'dead' ones. Then we can go down to the pit again. Then we can play games with the slave girls.........

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Nitey-Nite.....Don't let the Annie-Gal bite.....

Thursday, October 20, 2011

TWO VAMPIRES SNUGGLING INTO EACH OTHER LIKE PUPPIES..........psst! check out the easy to use links down at the end of tonight's episode

Ah, the children of the night are all home once more. Zebulon is happy. My disembodied heart goes pippity pat. I float in and out of their sleeping chambers. Jonathon and Sarah settle into each other like puppies. Two naked golden retrievers. Personally, we prefered whipcord thin Royal Salukis when I was in the flesh. Two of them, we had, Bokar (morning) and Malika (queen). My father and uncles used to take them out into the desert to run down antelopes. Yes...antelopes are clean and pure. We were allowed to eat them. Nothing special, actually. Rather like goat meat. But since I was stoned to death by the time I was thirteen years old, my antelope suppers were few.

I think Jonathon is beginning to relax. It took a few hours, but his dreams are peaceful now. The girl, Sarah, always seems cool and collected to me. But what do I know. Jonathon's true identity eludes me. Is his story true? Is it a lie? Does it matter? I enjoy the flavor of his life, the elves lives too. And that is all that matters.  Work of his homecoming trickles out to the world. The nubile daughters of the Mole People know. So do certain other unusual individuals. The witch, that Edith, spews it out. She works her 'pow-wow' magic. She sings her silent songs. Perhaps you've heard them and never even knew it? How fortuitous that I should condense in a dear old place like Philadelphia., where magic floats like fish fry in the sea. Ah, I know! I'll visit the bear dens! The vampires sometimes sleep with them in the winter. Jonathon loves it. He holes up with the furry giants, snuggling in like an errant cub. And while his foster liter mates take suck the natural way, he draws nourishment through sharp, little bites and nips. Bear blood is so rich. Not as magical as human, yet delightful and earthy in it's own way. The huge, brown, cave bears are the best. Papa taught him that. Or am I wrong? It could be that he always knew it. Papa's only been here for less than a year. In the flesh, I mean. Before that we knew him as the 'spirit' of the 'Shaky Hand Man,' Annie's evil, night time friend.

How will they spend their second night? Killing? Walking? Observing? Torturing? Oh, the parameters of life-eater existence. Sometimes good...Sometimes bad.... Always naughty. Let me dart down into the pit. Zebulon wants  to tickle the bare, frightened slave girls. Do they know me? No. Can they see me? No..... But that does not mean they cannot feel my breath..... You've felt it, especially if you live in Philadelphia.....Come on. You know.....Tickle, tickle in the dark. Like a tiny, itchy spark...... I wander sometimes. I get curious...And I explore....... Call out to me.... I'll hear you.... I'll be there.......What would you expect? Zebulon has the heart  (and other organs) of a thirteen year old after all..... Any attempt at self control is pointless....... Disembodied, yes....... But oh how I remember!

^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_  click on blogs and search for wilkravitz' 'other' name, Billy Kravitz....... PLEASE TELL YOUR FRIENDS. MAKE THEM OUR FRIENDS TOO. LEAVE A COMMENT. WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. GOOGLE the first link for hundreds of episodes up now for  you to explore.....   Our RSS feed link is THANK YOU

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


I inhabit a world floating within a tiny bubble rising up through the fermanted liquid in a clear, crystal flute of champagne. An isolated moment to you is our ten billion years. But I heard. And I know the truth. So I answered. We too wear shapes such as yours. Our eyes see like yours. Our fingers touch like yours. And our souls feel just as deeply. Listen and allow me to share what I know.

Humans do not evolve. Humanity does. The whole is composed of many parts, each with a God given mandate to fulfill. Some are as sand grains strewn across the shore, meant to hold back the sea and preserve the rest. Others dance like moonbeams, decorating the darkness with wonder and light. While a few are like raindrops, sent from the sky to wash away corruption.

Those among you called vampires, those metamorphic beings, those spiritual changelings are like that rain, erooding creation and transforming it. I know your tale. I know what has transpired. Disembodied spirits fill the void. Souls incarnate everywhere. A lifetime here. A lifetime there. Your saints have cried here too. So I understand.

Jonathon feels lost. The Pilgrimage to Jerusalem did not work. The world (as you know it) is not changed. So he retreats into indulgence. He works his sins and laps up vile food. Look at him remembering other life-threads. Who is he now? Was his story just a lie? wilkravitz thinks so. Yet he is but a tiny grain holding back the sea. Jonathon ben Macabi.......Tomas de Macabe, in medieval Spain. Harry the dustman, or Lucy McGoosey. What does it matter?

Papa knows this. So does the Lady Renate. Though they keep close counsel, disturbing not the others. And Crazy Annie laughs. Our 'eightteen' year old changeling of a thousand years lays restless on his pallet, rejecting the pleasures of his consort, Sarah. And she remembers his actions down in the pit those heartbeats ago and forgives him. For she feels his despair. Jerusalem is lost. Or is it? Lailah is still there. The Chevalier Jean-Michel keeps faithful  guard, as do many other minor functionaries. The three musicians, Dylan, Islam and the ressurrected Lennon, continue spinning songs of peace. And the Dream still goes on. It may take a bit more time and time is an extreemly elastic substance. When you finish reading this, my world will be long gone, consumed by our swollen, microscopic sun, though the words left my brain long before.

The vampires exist to help you grow. Humanity, I mean . The phrase, Not the Shepherd, but the Sheepdog, is true. They are merely a component of the race (I see that your wilkravitz' communicating device is chuckling again. Perhaps he will teach it a lesson and crush it? Perhaps he will replace it with a new cooperative one two months from now when your gift-giving season arrives?) Does the smaller script confound you? I sincerely hope not.

Those you call life-eaters have absorbed a special essence. Some among you know it as the Prometheus Spark. Is it easy to bear? No? Is it necessary? Yes. Look, you could catch it too. Think of it as a social disease. Fatal, but not deadly. For those so burdened hasten not to die.

Ah, the world is so filled with spectacular things

I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
Who wrote that? Certainly not I.

Jonathon will get back on course. You have seen his evil face.....and not just his. Forgive them these transgressions. Wait for them to learn. And then wait again. For it will happen and happen and happen and happen. But so will the miracles. And now please excuse me. I am but a humble coachman. The stable beckons and my horses need their rest....


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Tuesday, October 18, 2011


I heard them come in. It was late, but there was still a bit of dark time before the dawn. My room, little more than a cubicle, sits right near the stairs. They don't pay much attention to me....thank God. So I just lay there cringing and trembling with each foot step. Baylah was with them. She goes back and forth. Sometimes she stays at the shore. Sometimes she stays at her place in Center City. And occasionally she stays here. I could smell the liquor on them. Papa doesn't drink much, maybe some wine. Jonathon likes his brandy. Can you imagine walking into a bar these days and asking for a brandy. The other girl, Sarah takes a little vodka. But they seemed all  agitated. Must of had a fight in the car on the way home. I waited till the noise stopped. Then I crept out of bed and went over to the heating duct. You could hear all the way down into the sub-basement from there. So I laid down and listened.

I've been down there once or twice...maybe three times. They don't like when we go  down there, so I sneak when they're out. Look, they can smell it. They know when I've been there. Am I taking a chance? Who knows? But they get used to people, normal people I mean. They like having us around. So would they kill me? Well, I hope not. 

Good feed down at the shore. Baylah took two. Just some bums squatting under the boardwalk. Ripped their arms off first. She don't usually do that, but sometimes she plays games. I heard them. They tell the poor bitches in the pit all about what they did. Papa ripped off a mandible. You know, a lower jaw. Then he grabs the tongue in his teeth and tears it out. I think Sarah once even killed a guy like that over in Jerusalem. It's like a tradition in their line. Jonathon only ate one. Cornered her in the parking garage. Some pathetic, skinny, cheap thing running back to her car to get her cigs or like a tampon or somethning. She sees him grin. Ever see that old poster from A Clockwork Orange? Then you know the look, real slick and real sly. He practices in front of a mirror once in a while. Has this stance, the whole thing. Likes the way his hips swivel. Loves those close fitting pants and little leather bootkins. Yeah, he tries to be good, the lying son of a bitch. Makes us tell that story about his old, Spanish, Andalucian, Sephardic family. What a crock of shit that is. Maybe he met somebody like that. Maybe one of his first victims was like that 

Shit. the laptop's acting up. I don't know what to do with this. It's so  old. And they don't understand. Sarah does. She's new. She's younger. But they won't listen to her. Bsically, she is just a lonely girl Jonathon picked up and ruined for his own pleasure. Human partner would a been all torn up a long time ago. She knows what she is. That's why she tries to do good things like giving little drops of blood to bums and sick people in the hospital and all. Sarah is the most neurotic one of all.

They got a box of salt wated taffy. Papa's shaking it. I can hear. Then he tells the girls in the pit he's gonna play a game Tears off the cellophane. Opens the box. Says he's gonna throw one down. The bitch that don't get it gonns get 'cut.' Jonathon knows the drill. He likes this game. Know what he does? He strips off all his clothes, jumps down in the pit, smiles at the naked, little tricks and takes up his position.

Snap! First saltwater taffy flies down. They spring for it, all grunting and scratching. One of them is the purple nerple queen. That's her thing. So the fat one yelps. Whoops, she loses. Papa yells - Eat it up! eat it up!.....The skinny one rips off the wrapper and shoves it in her pie hole. She starts chewin' and chewin'. You know how gummy that crap can be. And Jonny-boy commences to bite off a little too. Graps the loser, the chubby one one, and takes a tiny nip, right down on the front of her hip. Real close to the bone. Hell, that's got to smart, even on a fat girl like her. She screams. She winces. She cries. Her chin starts to tremble. They play the game a few more times. Baylah throws down a few. Fat one loses a few more times. Jonathon nips at her ass a couple times. Licks up all the rich, red blood, flips her over and gives her what you might call an 'unhappy' ending. She crumples down on the hard packed floor, gasping and all. He makes this real fast move, like he's going to take the other one too. Papa grins. Baylah laughs. Then he, Jonathon I mean, slaps the skinny one around a little, mostly on her boney rump. He don't really want to hurt her. She's a good one. They like the way she runs and jumps. Let her live a little. Give her a chance to 'enjoy' life.

Shit! I got to get back in bed. They're coming up. Oh, God, my heart's pounding. I hate when they're like this. You never know what could happen. Edith puts spells on us to keep us safe, but who the hell knows?

It's over. They wennt upstairs. Sometimes they sleep up there. It's not so hard to block out all the light. Hotels can do it. God I wish I was in a hotel right now. Got to pee sooo bad. But I will not open that door till I'm sure their sleeping. It'll be dawn soon..... I can wait till then..........

I heard them come in. It was late, but there was still a bit of darktime before the dawn. My room is downn stairs

Monday, October 17, 2011


They all went out. Papa took Jonathon and Sarah to the Jersey Shore. I guess they're at Baylah's boyfriend's beach house. She runs back and forth all the time. Her piano bar in Center City, Philadelphia is open and running again. Not that it ever actually closed, but the other people watching over it weren't that good. So now she has this goth girl managing the place. You might remember her. Morticia, the one from a few months ago? I think she even showed up in Jerusalem? Annie's not home either. The elves took her out flying. They like to swoop and dive over the woodland crypts at Laurel Hill Cemetery. It's pretty isolated. True, you can see the place in the distance from the Roosevelt Extention of the expressway. Covers a lot of hills too. But it's far away and looks like a toy set. At night you can't make out anything. The caretaker and his wife (Can't remember if it's the first or second? Johnny-Jump-Up might a chomped on the first one. I'm not sure.) know about them. They knit these cozy, little outfits for the cherubs. If you want to know what the cherubs are, go to then click on blogs and search for me, Billy Kravitz. I use that site to set things right. And after all this time I have to do it. No more lies. No more saying what they want me to say. Most of the good stuff they talk about is true. Trouble is.. it's not all good stuff. Look, they're vampires. They kill. They torture. Sure they try to put a respectable spin on things. But vampires feel guilt too after all. You should see them when they sit there crying and shaking. I can't go near 'em then. Nobody can, not unless you want to get your heart ripped out. Gives Edith fits when they do that, 'cause she's the one who has to clean it up,only she can't say anything either. She just freezes on her little chair in the inglenook till it's all over. Annie laughs. For a while that scrubby, little 'six' year old, bad-seed, bitch was acting more normal. But that didn't last long. She used to be satisfied killing cock roaches (I mean besides people and all). No, really. Better than Terminex. Only now she's expanded the business to include careless bunnies and stray cats. Calls them her stuffed toy collection. They let her keep them for a few nights until the stink gets real bad. Then they make Edith throw 'em out.

I don't know where the cherubs are. Sometimes they tag along after the elves, but not tonight. Cute little devils they too, real chubby and cuddly. Actually extreemly loving and humane...for vampires. Could be out in the back garden with the two Red Paint guys listening to old legends about the constellations or memorizing ancient spells. Not that the words mean much. From what I hear, they're just a way to focus  power. I like when they flutter into my room and snuggle in with me. We watch TV. It's nice.. The cherubs, I mean. Not that they have wings. That's just how it seems.

Some of the bad stuff is startin' to get out, or at least hints of it. Go back to the beginning of all this. Look at the episodes where Jonathon talks about his transformation and those pathetic, naked girls in the pits and all. He makes it sound like a rare occurance...Yeah, well that's a lie. ....I don't know if I should tell you this, but I'm going to anyway.......We got a pit down in the second sub-basement right now. They don't think any of us humans can hear it. But I can. Edith can too. We hear them. That's why I keep this iPod in my ears all the time. That's why Edith humms those songs. The Red  Paints just take it all in. That's how they are...Very stoic.

You want to know something? I don't even know if that story about Jonathon being descended from a noble, Spanish, Sephardic family is true. He likes it. He picked it up somewhere, so we pretend. Edith thinks he escaped from a Connstantinople slave auction. She gets these feelings and she's usually pretty right.  Papa knows (He brought him over, after all.), but he don't say nothing. Look, he might be a Spanish-Sephardic nobleman... and then again, he might not. Who the hell cares?

Shhhhh, did you hear that? They're screaming. I can hear them all the way down in the pit. A couple days ago, Edith snuck them down a box a Lucky Charms, but that don't last long. They must be hungry by now...... Oh, God, I want to bring  down some food too. But I'm afraid. .... What if they find out? What if the girls tell on me? One of them is getting real weak from the torture. She's gonna break any night now. I know it. But Edith ain't afraid. She don't care. They need her. She's 'pow-wow.' She can see things...future things...distant things..... And you know how superstitious life-eaters are...

You're gonna have to excuse me if you find any typos. But I don't have time to go back and make corrections. Oh, God, this is getting to me. Where the hell are those cherubs?..... I need a cuddle.....(sigh)


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Sunday, October 16, 2011


Sarah is almost all healed. There's not much they can do for her here. I want to go home. She wants to go home. The people at the scientific center understand. They had a video conference with Doctor Franklin. He promised to share some vampire data with them, so everything worked out. I took a chance and called that L.M. guy from CBS. After all, he said he would  be happy to give us a lift when he came over to pick up his cousin. And I got a funny feeling the girl who answered  the phone knew I was a vampire too. What a place. I love L.A. and I've never even been there.

They drove us out to this small, private airport just to the south of Dimona. Beautiful sceenery. Very Santa Fe-ish. The sky still had a bit of illumination. Clouds streaked with dark purple and minute tinges of red. Some vampires can tolerate a near-dusk environment, especially from the back seat of a threehundred thousand dollar Bentley with carefully tinted windows. Sarah ran her eyes over the pages of a thick fall fashion magazine. I leaned back, lost in the lush sounds of Knights In White Satin (of course you know that's a particular favorite of mine). They transfered us into a luxurious, mach 1- capable sky bird. Sure, maybe I could have crossed via whale, but new experiences intrigue me. The crew realized what we were. I think one of the girls was a telepath or demi-witchling or something. She knew all about the Piney People and the Red Paints and all, so what does that tell you? One of the stewards lit a fine aroma candle. We dipped our tongues into a bit of old brandy. A popular, white haired much esteemed actor/comedian returning from some function in Dubai traveled with us. I loved how he played the banjo. Baylah can play the banjo too. Did I ever tell you that? She picked it up sometime during the Johnson Administration. The ANDREW Johnson Administration, I mean. And so we crossed the sea, two vampires plus an assorted menagery from Los Angeles. Oh, and before I forget, our specially darkened sleeping chamber was exceedingly pleasing.

Papa met us at the airport. We rode home in his big, black limo. Edith drove. True, she needs a really thick cushion to see over the wheel, but other than that, her road skills are immpecable. Ah, the glittering Center City, Philadelphia skyline. The NBC Comcast Building (yes, here in Philly and NOT you know where) The lofty City Hall Clock Tower (Big Ben, eat your bangers and mash out!) The classic facade of The Walnut Street Theatre (oldest continuously operating playhouse in the ENTIRE English speaking world) The perfect stomping ground for an urbane, aristocratic fellow like me.. Do I still want to save the world? Of course. But first a little autumn fun. Places to see and people to bite. Bootkins to buy for Saturday night. Look, look, Sarah, didn't I ravish you once in the bushes by that fountain when you were still mortal? ......She blushed.......(sigh) It's so good to be home.............


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Saturday, October 15, 2011


Jonathon spent the day in his 'grandmother's' refuge. She had many of them. Sometimes she simply burrowed into the soil, or curled up in long forgotten, Byzantine cryps. This day they slept in an old armory buried deep below a popular wine garden. A few archeologists knew of the site. They knew the Lady Renate too. Her  discreet whispers lead them to many coveted treasures.

So Jonathon followed her down into a long dry (and now mostly ornamental) well. There was a small, metal door at the bottom. They crawled through and came out into a hidden chamber. Most of it went back to the Crusades. Some dated to Hasmonean (Dynasty whose victories gave rise to The Hanukah Story) times. Jean-Michel knew the place. He'd sheltered there too.

The vampire matriarch flicked on a lighter. She was partial to classic Zippos. Fat, yellow, tallow candles rested on discarded brestplates and helmets. She lit a few and sat down on a pile of huge, floor cushions snatched from an Ottoman seraglio almost one hundred years before. Not that Renate was in residence back then. Another life-eater slept there. I don't know who he was. Perhaps the French Chevalier does? Then she motioned for Jonathon to join her. And he carefully arranged himself upon the fine, old silks.

Renate gestured toward their surroundings. She said - quite a place, no? They say the noble Saladin himself brought the Lady Beringeria to this very spot...... She chuckled and added - Who knows? It just may be that they cuckolded the Lion-Heart right where you are sitting now?.............You know a lot - Jonathon said.....She simply nodded and whispered - Some of it I want to forget. ...............Then she nestled into the cushions and sighed.........Jonathon examined a nearby dagger...........No one said a word. A few heartbeats later something upset a small collection of broken crockery. Jonathon froze. His fingers tightened 'round the well balanced hilt. ...........Renate exhaled - A rat. Just a rat, my boy. Where are your 'abilities'? You mean you did not smell it?............I, I was not being attentive - he said............That can be fatal - said the 'grandmother.'  How think you I've endured all these ages? ..............I was unnerved by your presence. We have not really talked much face to face like this. - he said...............So what should we speak of? answered Renate. I know. I'll tell you some secrets. Well maybe not secrets, just things unknown to you......

He laid down, turned to face her and listened. Two theives in Ali Baba's cave, protected from their enemies. How classic her features looked in the candle light. She told him of ancient rites of passage. When those just beyond the first hundred years were taken to the coast. There to encounter a great fish, at times a tiburon (shark) or perhaps a giant grouper. The life-eater novice swam out, opening a small cut just over a blood vessel, as they tred water and waited for the sea creature to attack. Then, as instructed, they curled up, allowing themselves  to be swallowed whole, forced down the esophagus and into the cloying, sticky, cold, dark, caustic gut. It was expected they'd endure a whole cycle like that, twentyfour hours. Almost all did, escaping via sublimation and swimming back to shore. Of course the fish were killed. But at least the crabs and gulls ate well. A few lost their minds in there, screaming and thrashing like weak children, forgeting their vampire powers......They weren't missed. Even vampire flesh can be disolved. And from what I hear, sometimes the bones as well......Life tries us all - she said. Jinns, the evil ones I mean, and demons and misguided mortals cringe in every shadow..........Your Sarah will be well soon. And then you plan to go home, right? Not where you were born. I mean where you live.........He whispered - Yes...............Good, good - she said...... It is meant for you to guard that domain. You have heard others say that we are not the Shepherd, but the sheepdog? Yes?...........He nodded.............Then return to your duties and guard your flock. If we all did that, the universe would be a much nicer place. Do you agree, my handsome 'grandson'?.........He just stared down at a ruby sparkling in the mellow light. But she knew that he did...........


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Friday, October 14, 2011


Papa is depressed. Not just by what's going on over in Jerusalem. He always thought Jonathon and Sarah were a bit naive. Twentyeight thousand years is a long time. And he's a thinker, don't you know.  Still wrestles with problems from the neolithic period. Did Mother Yaga receive an adequate portion of mammoth haunch? Should he not have culled the evil necromancer of the Fat-Assed-People? Was it just a nervous twitch  (yes, vampires get them too)  that sent the First Speaker over the cliff, or a sly, little intentional shove? Look at him sitting there breathing in that aroma candle. Edith gets them by the carton. You can buy them that way at the Wal-Mart. He's addicted. It's a shame. Sometimes he does sip a little bit of liquor. They can tolerate that. But drink never was his thing. The honey-mead they guzzled at the court of Charlemagne simply nauseated him. And the Romans used to forcefully irrigate the innards of those slaves meant for vampires with skin after skin of new wine. But he never bit any. It just wasn't for him. Used to throw 'em to the eels in the eel ponds (carnivorous, teethy, moray types they were). Couldn't let a gift from the emperor go to waste. Especially if you were a marginal type, like a life-eater.

I guess I caused it, me wilkravitz. I showed him the screen. I showed him our PR number, our Google page ranking. He thought it was high. Not that he bothered with that stuff, but he just assumed. I told you we only pretend that this is fiction. That's why it hurt him. This stuff ie real. They lived it. They remember it. And then to have some digital program give him a value of 1? Well, that's how he saw it.

Aura was here. She's one of the mole people. A pretty girl too. Hardly ever comes up to the surface, but Papa drove into Center City for her. Took her to this nice, little rustic tavern place on Germantown Avenue and everything. Mole people clean up pretty nice. What? You didn't think they had enough fresh water down there? Ain't you never heard of leaky pipes? Put a bucket under a leak. Leave it there a while and you got plenty. Soap too. That old, never used deeper than deep subway system was well stocked. Some of the caved-in restrooms still have toilets that flush. They got store room after store room  filled with blankets and little sterno cans, old spam and everything. Stuffs been there since before the War. I guess they were gonna use the tunnels for bomb shelters or something. And you know what? I don't know if this is the first Aura or the second Aura. I know Johnny-Jump-Up made a ghoul's delight outta somebody down there. Just can't remember who it was.

So she got sent home early. Cab takes her to a bench outside The Four Seasons Hotel. You know, the one with that life-like statue sitting on it? She goes back in the alley and shimmies down this  old forgotten sewer access thing they got. Guess it's the closest she has to a front door.

Shame they had to give us a 1. Don't they know how that hurts people.....vampires too, even. 

Thursday, October 13, 2011


A metalic giant eagle was sent from the western shores of the New World to bring the media lord's cousin back home. It was decided he would be better served by his own physicians. Jonathon was in Sarah's room when they came in. The powerful cousin, the media lord, saw him and went in. He spoke. He said - It'll never work, you know........Jonathon looked up. He understood what the man meant........The one from the cityh of the angels went on ----- They're stubborn. I see that look on your face. I know. I know. I'm one too. We're stubborn. People just don't take hints. You gotta hit 'em over the head. Peace? You think they want peace? Yeah, they want peace. But you know what peace means to us? It means a cessation of violence. No more fighting. And whichever side is ahead, wants it even more. .....................So what are  you saying? - said Jonathon. What would you have us do?.................I don't know. Just do like you always do. Kill those unfit for life. Help the worthy live. Does it  surprize you that I know a line like that? What? You think we don't have vampires, excuse me, life-eaters,( I know you like that term better.) in L.A.?

Jonathon sighed and said - I suppose  you do. L.A. eats up lots of lives. (breaks down) But we just wanted it so God Damned much.

The media lord said - So whoever gets what they want in this world?.........Jonathon sniffed back tears and answered - You did...........The influencial human just nodded. He said - How much longer do you think you're gonna be here?.............I don't know - mumbled Jonathon.I don't know.................Well, when you do know, give me a call. I'll send the plane for you. My team knows how to handlle your kind. And it's gotta be better than riding those whales..................Jonathon smiled - You know about that?....................Sure - said the man from L.A.. Look, the 'magic of Hollywood' isn't just up there on the screen. Do you understand what I mean?.................................Jonathon didn't answer. He wanted his life back. He wanted the little brick townhouse in Philadelphia. He even missed the Old Woman who used to run the place for him.. What ever happened to her? But now he had Sarah. And he loved her. She loved him too. He knew that. The lab team said she was healing. They studied every tiny bit of progress. Even a team from the I.D.F. was there trying to figure how they could bottle this  enchanted ability for wounded soldiers and terror victims. They had dozens of shiny, little, glittering vials tucked away in special vaults. Considering how things work today, they'd probably have a synthetic equivilent in no time. Yet it isn't just the blood. There's more to it than that. And where questions of faith are concerned, Jonathon is a true believer.

So they packed up all the necessary chemicals and supplies, wheeled out the Young cousin and left. Jonathon saw them pass by in the hall. He mouthed a silent fare well. The mogul saluted. And that was it.

He kneeled down next to Sarah. Her face looked cool and calm. She was sleeping. Maybe they could have healed her sooner. He would have given more blood. Renate made an offer. But they decided differently. Doctor Franklin (and remember, he's been studying the vampirina, Luna) didn't want to see her 'hardened' into the vampire form so soon. Sarah's humanity was only a year in the past. She's fresh. She's a newborn. And a little humanity isn't necessarily a bad thing for a vampire to have.  Jonnathon agreed. He left it in their hands. He lifted her hand from off the sheet annd kissed it. Her eyelids (yes, she had them back now) fluttered. Then he tenderly tucked her in and left.

Renate met him out on the road. She spoke as they walked toward the Old City. We can't rush them. The humans, I mean. You know that now. You understand. To me it comes natural. I've lived among them since the beginning. I've tasted their essence for more than fourhundred centuries. If you want to comprehend their history, drink from me................You mean like Papa? - said our 'young' Andalucian.................Yes. That is why he sits quietly, back there in your city of brotherly love. He knows. True, he has his passions. He does the wrong thing at times. But a mother knows her son (she took his hand) and her grandson too...........So what do we do about the evil ones, the jinns and all the others? - he said................We fight them - she whispered.

As they progressed along what was once an old caravan route, an automobile passed them. The  windows were rolled down. A song poured out from the radio, or i Pod, or whatever it was. They recognized it,  The Ressurected John Lennon's new Anthem of Hope. Dylan and Islam contributed parts too. The Children's Holy Land Chorus (something new) sounded sweet in the background).

And Jonathon smiled and he began to whistle, as they trod along the ancient, desert road...

that line up above is supposed to be sand ripples along a desert horizon. sorry. don't have much of an FX budget. there's not much you can do with popsicle sticks and Elmer's Glue on a computer.

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