Wednesday, November 30, 2011


It's clear and cold tonight. The sky looks pretty normal. We know those floating lakes are out there. We can see them during the day, sickening green smudges against the blue. Some people think they're growing. I can't tell. But you see less birds flying around now. Mr. Edith (her husband) says they navigate by heavenly landmarks, stars at night, the sun during the day. I guess the lakes spook 'em.

I was thinking. Whats going to happen when the sky disappears? Whats going to happen when the lakes grow into seas and the seas grow into oceans and the oceans become one super ocean? They say it'll be dark then. But that we know. I was worried about the 'noxious' ones, the feral vampires out there in the wilderness.  They just want the blood. You know those hissing, snarling, kitty-cat wannabes they show in horror movies? Well, I'm talkin' 'bout them. If I remember right, Jonathon and Sarah encountered a few on their pilgrimage to Jerusalem.. And they weren't even the really bad ones. The Indians on the Rancokas Reservation have stories. People don't think they have any reservations in New Jersey, but they do. Edith visits them sometimes. She's not an Indian. But that pow-wow stuff mixes it all together, old English pot-stirring stuff, French pixie magic, Dutch shadow-tappers. They got some old Leni-Lenape lore thrown in too. So they get together and trade professional secrets. Them what lives on the reservation gettin' worried. Got stories of the 'windago,' a night wraith known to blow through the woods killin' folks. Some a them think it's a vampire, or more likely a clan a vampires....... As if the Jersey Devil isn't enough..... And they say these wild types will tear through the darkness killing everything. Wise up, dummies. There's a lot more vampires out there than you think Minnie's still out there. Look her up. She's one. But she ain't wild though. We're talkin' 'bout something more akin to like a zombie, or a sloopy-lu-lu. See? You gotta keep up with  this stuff. You gotta read it every night. You think we're doing this to get rich? If that's what you think, then go to hell

Edith picked up something from Jonathon. She even got a look Saturn. Almost gave her a heart attack seein' somethin' that big up so close... So now she knows where he is. Sarah's out there too, but we ain't smelled nothin' from her. Jonathon's scared. Oh, he'll do it. He's all set to cooperate with them. Just give him the word and he'll 'snap to.' They're all mostly like that, the noble vampires in the 'Archangel Corp.' That's what they call it. Some a them can't wait. You know how guilty they get? A lot of them are self-haters to the tenth degree. Martyrs, they want to be. Sacrificed to save humanity. But they're still shittin' bricks. That is if they could shit bricks.

Every once in a while Edith gets in real close. Just like a little flea dug in right behind his ear. She hears him talkin' to this buddy he's got, another 'young' vampire from Old Andaluz, only this guy started out a Muslim. He went to Jerusalem when they all did, right when the crazy stuff started happening. And he got 'drafted' into the Archangels with the rest of them. Rafiq, his name is. Looks like he could be Jonathon's brother, or at least like a first cousin. They sit together after training exercises. Both of 'em are about ten hundred years old. Only Papa didn't 'turn' Rafiq, Some counterfeit 'jinn' from Numidia did that. The two of them share stories 'bout their human families.. what went on in the ha-reem, whose kitchen slaves made the best marzipan, hawks, falcons, hootchie-kootchie girls, horses, salukis. Like two regular sheiks they are. But it calms them and frees their minds from the terror yet to come.

What must it be like out there, sublimating through the horrible immensity of space, wrapped only in a thin, tight pressure suit?. Go berserk and you get sucked into the monstrous clouds of Saturn. I don't think even a vampire could fight his way out of something like that. And if they succeed. If say a few of them actually do scramble up the Enemy and bust up their frequencies, will they come back, or is this just a kamakazi operation?

But they still go by Earth time out there and Edith says in three hours we'll know..... Mr. Edith just shakes his head and smiles. He puttin' in a crop a mushrooms.......


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Tuesday, November 29, 2011


They took us to a coordinate in the Saturn System. It's unnerving being so close to that world. A gas giant, they call it. Saturn and Jupiter almost became little stars. Just a bit more mass would have done it. Imagine, no true night on Earth, only a lingering shadowy gloom, punctuated by two small dots of red-orange illumination. Not points like other stars, but tiny discs. Their moons might have blossomed. As it is, we have life forms on more than five Kansian bodies. There's Earth, whatever they have on Mars, the manta ray people of Europa and a few assorted microbial wonderlands on certain other fecund worldlets.  What? You want to know what 'Kansian' is? Well we just learned that one ourselves. Astronomers just made it up. It comes from Kansas. You know how in The Wizard of Oz, the Ozians say "Kansas, she said is the name of her star. Kansas, she said is the name of her star.' ...... Now it is. Seems that was the only time they ever gave our sun a name. Sol Invictus doesn't count. That was just Latin for unconquered sun. Where's the poetry in that? And why can't it be Kansas? They have a New York City and a New York State, so? The manta ray people obviously have a different name for Jupiter. In their electro-magnetic language they have a few blips and crackles that mean 'Anchor.' Jupiter is the anchor. It holds them in place. Makes sense  to me. God knows how the Enemy describes us.

We crowd around the quartz paned windows, mesmerized by the butterscotch immensity looming above us. Huge, thick bands of monstrous clouds race across their assigned latitudes. Our trainers tell us they reach speeds in excess of three or four hundred miles an hour. Thick, twisted sabers of white-hot lighting explode through the malestrom. People scream and jump. Not only humans, vampires too.

They gave us those form flattering pressure suits. I'm not sure how they're supposed to help in this environment, but members of the science team assure us that they will. Harmonics experts have detected certain glaring irregularities in this vicinity. Computer analysis interprets  them as Enemy concentrations. So... this is their base. Lailah's in there somewhere, other creatures too.

We're going to try a series of carefully staged 'sublimations' in an effort to break up the frequency web. That's how they manifest themselves. The humans know how damaging vampire sublimations can be to living matter. We pass through the victim, like a speeding wraith, shredding their being into red, pulpy syrup. Soon we'll see what we can do to them. I won't go in alone. One vampire wouldn't be enough. But they've assembled us into cohorts. Just like the Spartans at the pass. I've become close with some of them. Not all, but a few. And they're scared too.

Papa's worried about me. He tried to get me held back, but I wouldn't let him. So now he's holed up with the Tech Boys (girls too, actually) reviewing every detail. The human doctors have been studying us. Data sent out by Doctor Franklin helped too. But what could they do? Have they called for any witches? No. Is Edith here? No. Do they acknowledge our primary spiritual component? Oh, boy, that's a joke! You know what atheists most scientists are? Not all, but most. Right now, I'd give anything for a few good Kabbalah-versed rabbis, or some hot-shot, Vatican exorcists. At least we'd be on the same wavelength.

There was one test with a 'vampire' monkey. A chimp, actually. Remember the Mr. Muggs fiasco a few months back? Well they recaptured him (he keeps escaping, giving rise to countless Jersey Devil, Bigfoot and Chupicabra encounters.) taught him a few basic sublimation moves and shot him out of a canon. No, it wasn't actually a canon. But that's what it was like. Did they get him back alive?....... Are you kidding? But the frequency web did vacillate and wink out for a few nano seconds. So now we're gonna be space monkeys too. Boy, if my mother back in Old Andaluz could see this.

Wish me luck. They're buzzing for us. God, I could go for a good aroma candle right now. Green Apple-Amazonian Hemp would be real nice.......... Listen, see that Sarah gets my books if I don't come back. Edith knows where they are. She has them both, La Ciencia Vampirismo and my own journal too.... At least something of me will live on.............


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They took us to a coordinate in the Saturn System. It's unnerving being so close to that world. A gas giant, they call it. Saturn and Jupiter almost became little stars. Just a bit more mass would have done it. Imagine, no true night on Earth, only a lingering shadowy gloom, punctuated by two small dots of red-orange illumination. Not points like other stars, but tiny discs. They moons might have blossomed. As it is, we have life forms on more than five

Monday, November 28, 2011


Chrome is our browser and so far it is the most excellent one we've had. BUT they usually prevent us from posting 'clickable' links. However, this one is worth the effort ~~~~~~~~~~~     a visual, compelling site with lots of breaking media news and information....... check out the latest on upcoming film BYZANTIUM, up now.

LOOK FOR ADDITIONAL 'DATELINE' (gotta find a new grabber. think some TV guys already usin' that one...sorry, a little over anxious) posts coming soon highlighting other great sites and info.

Now scroll down one post for another worthy romp in the land of #VAMPIRES & #ALIENS


You could see it from the ground. A transparent, dark green 'wash' seemed to spread across the sky. It's not so noticeable at night. But during the day, it's scary. People stay indoors. Nobody looks up. Cloudy days are blessings. Then we don't know what's out there.

Cameras on certain deep space satellites and observation platforms show the whole thing. Imagine the planet encased in a perfectly clear, concentric glass shell. It doesn't touch the surface, but 'floats' two hundred miles overhead. And huge quantities of what seems to be sea water pools on the outer surface. It slides around like rag puddles left on a carelessly cleaned kitchen table. Trouble is, these droplets must be at least thirty miles in diameter and they're starting to collect.

The government gives updates. They hint at secret weapons positioned somewhere beyond the moon.. Experts issue warnings on the internet. But the cops, or people from other agencies we just call cops, arrest them as 'Panic Mongers.' A guy broadcasting over some kind of short wave set up claims high ranking government officials are planning to evacuate to Mars. Washington is under lock-down. Other cities too. In London, they say Richard Branson took off for a privately hollowed out asteroid three days ago.... a Captain Nemo for the Twenty-First Century. I can't tell you about anywhere else, 'cause I don't know.

It's funny. I mean they were experimenting. Guys at N.A.S.A. fired off rockets. They wanted to see if they'd get through. That concentric barrier, I mean. And most of them sailed out like there was nothing there. Of course if they hit one of the sky lakes, it's all over.People are hoarding food. You can't find bullets and ammunition anywhere. That's all gone. I guess gasoline will be next.

We all know about the 'Enemy.' We know they're some kind of harmonic force, or life form.We know they can conjure up a physical presence when it suits them. They did that on Europa. And speaking of Europa, we're friends now. That new ion-turbo drive (sounds like a rocket kit at some hobby shop) made it all possible. Can't keep that stuff a secret. You think hackers can't get it? It's out there... It's out there.

And the funny thing is, people accept it all. Klactu Barada Nictu, or whatever that giant 'Oscar' said in The Day The Earth Stood Still. We  got Manta Ray people now. We got comic book arch villains known as 'The Enemy.'  We got massive space vehicles (like cobbled together oil refineries, or chemical plants) zipping through the firmament at a half million miles an hour. Shit, wonder if they got enough Tang?

Edith  says that at the current rate of accretion, it will take maybe twelve weeks for the water to envelope the earth. But then it'll only continue to get deeper. We'll still see the sun for a little while. Then things'll get dim, like the dark, purple gloom before a big thunder storm. Eventually we'll just have blackness. Guess we'll be  fighting over sterno and firewood then. God knows how long all the batteries are gonna last. Damn, talk about Nuclear Winter. I mean the atmosphere's still gonna be there. Better get used to the snow. Except without sunlight, how's all the moisture gonna evaporate back up into the air? What's the 'Enemy' gonna do... freeze-dry us to death?

I said that to Edith. She just started chucklin'. Red Paint people don't say nothin'. But they know.

Edith spends her days settin' up 'Long Talks.' She communicates with other pow-wow practitioners. One day she got Sarah, or she says she got Sarah. I don't know. Maybe vampires  got pow-wow in 'em too? That's when she saw the 'little bird,' the amulet, the 'dead' Martian thing.......... Hope we don't go like that...

This is me, wilkravitz, talkin'. But you probably figured that. Know what the rest of us are doing, the other humans and elves and all? Learnin' how to light swamp gas. Pines got lots a swamp gas. We been slightly singed a little, but we're gettin' the hang of it..........


11/17/11 post got good links after it. please click on the SHARE BUTTON  runnin' 'round about a half inch down below. thank you kindly. WAIT. I'm gonna try sommething. Maybe the links will post ----  inside info into vampire media and more (good stuff) a compelling vampire Dr. Phill cuts right to the bone extensive site on all things nocturnal and more cool, indie horror film star shares everything
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Sunday, November 27, 2011


Now you have to understand that Mars afforded us a great freedom. We didn't need pressurized suits. Well, no. I'm wrong. We did require pressurized suits. But they were much lighter and less cumbersome than the get ups mortals wore. And the best part was we did not need helmets. Remember, we just breath out of habit. whatever gases go in come out. Our bodies draw no sustenance from it. And the cold did not bother us either. True, the pressure suits did have a heating element incorporated into the design. Our blood could freeze, after all. And that might have been a little uncomfortable. Could it kill us? No. But I don't relish the thought of standing around like a department store mannequin for a few months. Maybe if they'd given me fitting props, a tennis racket, a Merschaum pipe... then I'm sure I could have pulled it off. Might even have been relaxing.... with the right view.

What else did I want to tell you? Oh, yes, I know. The low surface pressure caused liquids to fizz up and sublimate off into space....Odd, just like us. So that's why the suits were pressurized. But I'm not even sure that would have killed us. Ever see those little freeze-dried strawberry bits the put in some breakfast cereals? Well, that would be me. That would be us. But our minds would still work. The gears would still turn. Like raisins with dreams.

Sarah and I enjoyed exploring old river beds. They meandered everywhere. Occasionally small underground streams bubbled up, bursting out onto the surface. And they would fill the dried channels for a short while. But Mars is not Earth. And such things were short lived. I'd dip my finger into the cool, clear water and taste it. I can do that. It doesn't make me sick. It had a salty flavor, slightly metallic too. Like copper or iron and very much like blood.

How did we feed? What? You want me to tell you that?...... They brought a supply from Earth. You know, with those new powerful engines shipping things out here became a lot easier.So they picked men from various death rows. No shortage there. America had them. Russia had them. China did too. And we had a...what would you call it?.... A smorgasbord. Not exactly the same as when we had the visions. These feedings had no element of divinity about them.. They were 'wrong doers,' or they were officially labeled as wrong doers. So we just made do. Each vampire got a 'hot' meal every twentyeight to thirtyone days. And believe me, It was not the same. For it's the 'culling' of the unworthy life that sustains us. That's why we're here. That's our purpose. The blood is only secondary. Look, I know some of you have been with us since the beginning. You understand.

Sarah found a small amulet. It was in a shallow cave, lying among what appeared to be broken shards of pottery. How would I describe it? Well, like a bat, or a stylized pteranodon. Not very large. Fit right in the palm of her hand. An anthropologist back in Circus Towne1 confiscated it. Who knows? Perhaps a long dead Martian made it? That's what I think. And do you want to know the truth? I can smell them. I can still pick it up when I go outside. And they can't be dead that long, or the scent-bearing, organic molecules would have deteriorated by now. Hah! What a strange thing I have become, a life-eater with scientific training. But 'they' said it was necessary. And Doctor Franklin came out once to help set up the program. He was afraid to make the voyage, but... he did it. So now we have a regular Vampire Academy....... 'special ed' for special creatures. So far Jonathon ben Macabi (that's me) has all A's. And my sublimation skills are progressing quite nicely too. The vacuum of space is no longer insurmountable. I flit about like an over sized hummingbird. Tomorrow night we'll try for Jupiter. Others have gone out before. Now it's my turn...........

We study Earth via computerized, digital observatories. And the Skyward Sea, like a second, dark green, undulating skin continues to spread  'round the planet, causing great consternation among the inhabitants. Harmonics experts search for some bit of knowledge we might use to foil the 'Enemy.' But so far, their work sounds like a bunch of ersatz Phillip Glass to me............


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Saturday, November 26, 2011


So some people think the Enemy occasionally consumes humans. And in certain locales, Baylah is wrapped in the quiet safety of the Jersey Pin Barrens. In one world Jonathon and Sarah are strolling through the picturesque old, stone quarters beyond the Jerusalem City Walls. And in another they prepare to face the Enemy, in company with other stalwart life-eaters.

Such is reality. Such is the omniverse. We live our lives smeared across creation. There is the you who died in infancy. And the you who conquered nations. All possibilities  eventually  play out. Haven't you ever suspected that? Remember those isolated mornings? You'd wake up and just know. This is not your life. They are not your family. That is not your face. But the similarities were sufficient and you made do. So this dog drooled more than usual. And that special pair of jeans fit perfectly. (that part was good) The boss actually smiled and waved. And the neighbor's cat got out and peed on your car. Well, surprise, surprise. You've been 'plane shifting.' It happens all the time. Would you like an example? Think of a radio station. None of that Sirius stuff, or whatever they call it. I'm talking about a regular, old fashioned AM, job. You know how the signal slides around? One minute it's at say 1210. Then you pick it up at 1170. Same show. Oh, it sounds a little different. Over there it's a bit raspy. Over here it's very weak. Well, think about each frequency as one possible universe. And pretend the entire AM band is the whole omniverse. Sometimes your favorite sports guy is in one world and sometimes he's in another........ But you know what?..... You're the same way...... You all are. True, it is hard to slide so far off the mark to a point where things are radically different. That's why you don't see pigs fly. And you hardly ever run into anybody shooting monkeys out their ass......... But some people do.....

Now in this part of the 'forest' Jonathon and Sarah are up there with the others. The vampires, I mean. N.A.S.A. unveiled a new power source. They didn't want to. Not under this president. But current  conditions required it.. So the ion-turbo made it to the Moon and back in one hour. No landing. Just a fast 'whip around' like a boardwalk thrill ride. Five hundred thousand miles in sixty minutes. Four days to the Jovian System. Nine days to Saturn. One day to Mars. At this rate, gotta be Vulcans out there somewhere.

A crew made up from volunteers representing all nations went out to Mars. The 'transported' hockey stadium was still up there. Pressurizing the place would be relatively easy. Seal it all up under a 'shrink-to-fit' rubberized barrier. Pump up water from the saturated Marian permafrost. Assemble  some handy-dandy nuclear reactors (the travel size, like they sell at Walmart). And Badda-Bing! We're ready for business. Even the games in the arcade lit up. Had to carry out and cremate thousands of bodies in a specially designed, non-contaminating corpse oven. Old speculative plans found in a seventy year old European safe helped with that. And waa-laa!.... Circus Towne 1 on Mars was born. You got a better name for a facility like that? They even had stores of freeze-dried food up there. What do you think they were selling in some of those concessions?

So humanity had a platform. We had a base in the heavens.... a place to confront the Foe. Best of all, that Foe wasn't lookin'.

Papa and some of the old, powerful life-eaters (it was decided never  to use the word 'vampire') led the others through rigorous sublimation drills. First through sand. Then through water. On to soil. And finally stone. Most made it. Some did not. The human medics didn't know how to deal with mashed vampire tissue. But four or five unusual vampires from India and Pakistan actually had medical degrees and were quite adept at making the jump from mortal  to immortal flesh. Those injured quickly healed. And a series of rushed  'skype' hook-ups between the base and the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau didn't hurt either. Remember, Doctor Franklin knows a lot about the 'night folks.'

Sarah couldn't quite sublimate through gaseous media, or vacuums. A lot of them had that problem. It's hard for the body to 'grasp' onto such tenuous, widely spaced particles. But the sleek (and really quite flattering) form-fitting suits made things a little better. Sure, they had to wear Spiderman-like head and face covers. A lot of them did not like that. Still, you gotta do what you gotta do. This is the army, Mister Dracula. Ain't got no mahogany coffins here. Some of the dramatic, Mittle-Europan types actually believed in that crap... You know, the heel clickers and hand kissers? But they soon came around. The military made arrangements with a few, little 'wedding cake' principalities over there to give 'em all titles. Made 'em all counts, or grafs, or something. They like all that 'noble honor' stuff. It shut ;em right up. You know how McDonalds makes every skinny kid an assistant manager? Same thing.

But meanwhile, back on Earth, the Skyward Sea was continuing to condense. The fog thickened. And in some places pools of briny, salt water orbited the planet like huge, tattered, magic carpets...


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Friday, November 25, 2011


Such things have happened before. Other worlds have perished. The 'Enemy' has played in other cornfields too. Imagine life on a benevolent orb, snuffed out. Imagine that place destroyed, pulverized to dust. Please know that there was an Earth1 before the Earth2 we live on today. It endured for perhaps a billion, or a billion and a half years. Rains fell. Oceans were born. Winds blew. Clouds set sail across the sky. And tiny vital forms took hold under water. They were living things. They ate. They bred. They swam. They spawned.

But one morn a stranger commandeered the heavens. A huge dark star fell out of hell and  tumbled toward the ground., expanding and swelling and eating up the sky. Gravitational forces scoured our baby world, rending it's skin and melting its bones. Seas boiled and mountains bled molten blood upon the plains.

And then, in the last moments, the sky disappeared, as the errant world came down and kissed the baby Earth, stealing its soul and erasing its past. This terrifying embrace went on for hours. Two giant flints, scraped against each other, igniting a flame that purified what was left.

Then the errant world-killer exploded. It's bleached, white bones danced up into the heavens, encircling our dead orb in a ghostly shroud that spun and swirled, giving  rise to The Moon. And a new Earth was born. And new rains poured down, filling the low places and bringing back the seas. Rarefied fluids merged together ushering a new age of fertility. Life came back. But it was different life. It was our life. And thus were humans born.

Was that an act of God? Was it all just a matter of chance? Or did a certain strain of 'creative' aliens do it? (Sigh), well, I am going to leave that choice up to you. But know this. The 'Song' Entities flickering about  our star system, vacillated for a while. Their natures can be fickle. Enchanted beings are like that. So the Oberon who led them changed his mind and let them know. Earth was doomed. Is it only that they required our territory for their own? No. Some may have thought so in the beginning. Cosmic gossip seemed to run that way. But rumors are often wrong. Our celestial family, our sun and all her children, threw off their galactic garden. A bit of pruning was in order.A snip here. An annihilation there. Gather ye rose buds while ye may, 'cause they ain't makin' roses no more.

Conditions on Earth remained livable.... for the time being. But a troubling dream began to trickle out into reality. For somewhere in another nearby dimension, the Earth never formed. A larger, massive water world filled our space. And it was a trivial matter for the 'Song' Entities to sing their arias and pierce the universal veil. Moisture from that other realm  bled into our skies, filling the days and nights with impenetrable mists. Warming solar rays failed to reach us now. The rapidly coalescing blanket bounced them back out into the void, as two hundred miles above our heads  a celestial sea was born. And  dark, green. storm tossed waves entombed us.

But I am stirring the time pot. True, the clock has been set, though the hours haven't all quite ticked by yet.

Thus speaks Zebulon. And I watch with the destructive delight of a thirteen year old boy.

Bovine masses milling about on the surface of humanity's one home did not notice much. They never do. But Doctor Franklin did...... And so did the vampires..... Their confrontation with the 'Entities' was pushed forward....
And the Pines grew colder. And the air grew damp..... Snow fell on demonstrators down in Tahir Square. And white flakes gilded the Western Wall as well.......


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Thursday, November 24, 2011


We're half way 'round the Sun since last THANKSGIVING. This episode ran back then. Can't post a new one tonight. Must retire  (ZZZzzzZZZ) a bit earlier. But please wander through this  magical epistle. We know you all didn't read it the first time. But that's OK. Hopefully, you'll look at it now.... THANK YOU .....And ENJOY the WEEK END..........Jonathon went after Sarah. He knew she could feel him, if she was focused enough. But her mind was on other things. How careful she was. How neat and precise. Each tiny, glass vial prepared in just the right way. Twelve drops in each. Sealed with the same. fine, Portuguese cork. Like perfume samples in an opulent emporium.

She slipped into the evening crowd, a tall, slim, American pilgrim (it does not seem right to call them 'tourists' in this town) and made her way to a narrow, cramped alley behind a small marketplace. Strange scents peppered the night. Yemenite Jews lived here, some Ethiopian believers too. But Sarah wasn't picking up the spices. She tasted the sickness. Two doors down, upstairs, above a stall selling some sort of street food. The old woman behind the worn, marble slab kept it surprisingly clean.

Sarah approached, looked into her eyes and smiled. She held up one finger and slid a small bill across the counter.  The old woman beamed , as she repeatedly bowed her head, before turning to fill the order. Then our young vampirina deftly uncorked two vials, allowing the contents to run down into a small condiment pot. She replaced the glass lid and waited. The woman gave her what looked like a beef taco wrapped in a soft tortilla. It did smell appetizing... to humans anyway. Sarah thanked her and left.

But that little, magically improved, condiment pot would work wonders. Two cases of cancer would disappear. Childhood colds and influenza would be milder this year. And an ancient, bed-ridden woman would nibble at a warm meal, bought at considerable expense, by a loving family. Three days hence, she'd be up and about, preparing the dress for her granddaughter's wedding.

Jonathon caught up with his beloved as she exited the alley. He hugged her. She slipped her arm through his and they walked off. Few words were said. No kiss. This was the Old Quarter of Jerusalem and public displays of affection were decidedly outre. He went in, as she 'helped' children at a clinic (vampires are quite adept at what we would call hypnosis) and contributed a bit of his own essence to a young man recuperating from an explosion. Whether recipient or creator of the blast did not matter. Now he was well. And now he was grateful.

And in this way they passed the American Thanksgiving festival, deep in the land responsible for it's Feast of Tabernacles inspiration.The 'Enemy' was quiet that night. The sky quite calm. The streets quite peaceful. And they were thankful for that.

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Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Edith been spinnin' and singin'. That's when she throws out her arms and twirls around till she gets all dizzy. Then when her brains are good and fizzy, she starts trillin' out some kinda melody in a old timey, nobody knows it anymore language. The Red Paints like when she does that. They gather 'round and pay close attention. One of 'em, the taller one, nods his head  to keep time with the 'music.' Her husband, Mr. Edith, don't like it. He calls it Ima Sumac shit. She was a real high, warbly , Peruvian folk singer from the 1950's. Hit all these screechy, high notes like aliens was doin' stuff to boof a her boobies at the same time. One worked treble. One worked base. Only they never got 'em tuned right at the same time.That's why he is out with the dogs right now. It is pitch black out there. No moon. No stars. Too cloudy for that. I suppose the sky does have a little bit of ashy-coal iridescence., but that only makes what's down by the ground seem darker. Dogs don't mind though. eyes is just somethin' extra to them. They see  through their nostrils anyway.

Them Red Paints whisperin' to each other. That willkravitz, that guy what taps this all out for them, is listenin' real close. You know he gonna put it down in that machine when they all done. So far they sayin' somethin' bout dead folks uncroakin' theyselves and comin' back to life. Not the fleshy parts, just the ghosty ones. Gonna be an army of the dead standin' shoulder to shoulder wit them vampirinos and vampirinas. Sort a like a Wes Craven force field. Now I cannot provide you with all the particulars, 'cause they ain't been spit out yet. And I am waitin' to see what I'm gone do. Who am I? What do folks call me? Well, never you mind. Just call me Mister Never You Mind...... Look, I ain't no stranger. We met before. Remember that time? You know me. You know Minnie. You know all of us. Guess we gonna get drafted in that army too.

But I can tell you a little bit 'bout what's gone on in Zion. I am in communication with particularly reverent dead folks snakin' through the atmosphere in that vicinity. Everybody still runnin' 'round messin' with that magic, crystal xylophone they got. It is pretty. And it is impressive. But I do  not know if they will get it to work. Fella here with me who croaked back in Old Atlantis say they tried playin' 'round with crystals too. Gonna use 'em to zap ships' asses wit lazer beams, or somethin'. Managed  to pop a few sacks a seed corn, but nuttin' happened to them ships' asses.

Doctor Franklin got his people all worked up. They laptop-talkin' (you know... them magic machines?) wit like minded fellas all over the world. That's why they started thinkin' 'bout us... the dead folks, I mean. Science guy in Latvia (he has a great armonica too) brought back his grandma's old canasta ladies. And grandma wasn't too pleased with the change a scenery, 'cause she in the toilet when it happen. Dead folks don't have  to use no toilets. But the opportunity is open to us if we chose to do so. All a matter of personal preference. Some folks like singin' in a Heavenly Choir. Some folks like takin' a good dump. But we do have the ability to jazz up various frequencies. That why they hear our voices on old radios and walkie-talkies. People hopin' we can work a hoo-doo on 'em Martians, or whatever they are you all got..... We shall see....We shall see.......

Sarah out resurrectin', or almost resurrectin' mostly dead folks in hospitals and in dumpsters. Hell, yeah. They got dumpsters in Jerusalem. What you think they do with trash here... make it go WHOOSH??. She give 'em bitty little dribbles a her blood and after two or three heartbeats they all smiley faced again. Folks call her The Miracle Lady. Sorta like they did when Baylah played a similar role outback a that Olive Garden in Philly. Look, what else is a still believin' vampire supposed to do?

'Cause if spiritual goomers like them be walkin' 'round..... how can there NOT be God?

Nitey nite, all you humans. Relax and go to sleep. Don't worry 'bout what is and what is not. You gonna die soon... You gonna know....


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Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Baylah came to stay with us in the Pines. She's been well for a while. And she tried joining the others in Jerusalem but what was she going to do there? They got enough 'special' people. So she sublimated all the way back home. Some vampires can do that. They travel by night, passing through the ether like a dream. People often mistake them for ghosts. Some blame 'floaters.' You've probably seen them. Don't worry about it. They hardly ever kill the innocent. Well, almost hardly ever.

The atmosphere here agrees with her. Remember, she was raised in the deserts of West Africa, so the damp, chill woods are quite novel. In her faith, water equals Paradise. The Pine Barrens are heaven to her. She dotes on the juveniles. She loves the elves and cherubs. Edith is teaching her how to knit and crochet. They're making warm, little outfits for the cherubs and thick, cozy sweaters for the elves.

We saw a young Jersey Devil in the woods last night. They never let you see the little ones. One of the Red Paint guys says that's because they look more human then. The long, horsey face doesn't show til after puberty. Oh, they still have hooves. They're still covered with fur from say like two or three inches below the navel down. Remember the fauns from Narnia? Mr. Numb-Nuts or whatever his name was? He could of been one of them. Except by his age the Devil kids already look horsey. Edith's husband threw it an apple. They like a sweet apple. Carrots too. I guess it's the horse-tongue taste buds they have. Edith says she's gonna make sweaters for the Devil kids too. But he didn't look cold. I don't think it bothers them. Not that the elves and cherubs can get sick. They're vampires. They don't get sick. But warm temperatures make 'em feel more comfy.

Them Alien Enemies still pullin' funny stuff. Not much, but they're still playin' around. Picked up a stadium full a hockey fans. No, not a stadium. You know. What do you call the places where they have basketball games and hockey games? Well, they grabbed one up in Minnesota or Manitoba or someplace. And set it down on Mars.Seems like they must have preserved the atmosphere during the trip. Some of the quantum guys say the folks inside probably never even felt nothing. Went in. Bought food. Sat down. Watched the game. And then BOOM. Some dope pushed open a door to leave and fell flat on his rapidly desiccating face. Can you imagine walkin' out onto the rust colored gravel fields of Mars? Lookin' up into the orange skies of Barsoom? Gasping for breath in a rarified atmosphere four times thinner than Everest? Only about eighty or ninety rushed out through the doors. Know how we know? The aliens set 'em down right by one a our little Wall-E probes. The cute, buzzy guy saw the whole thing. Two hundred and eighty heartbeats later, N.A.S.A. saw it too. It went up on the web automatically. Kids in school saw it. Half a them thought it was just a new, cool video game. The blood runnin' out the eyes graphics were a big hit. They clapped when bellies exploded.. Eighteen thousand people died. Experts claim some of 'em probably survived two days or so, if they were holed up deep inside, like in an air pocket or something. And according to estimates, at least a third of 'em were children.

Doctor Franklin's runnin' a series of experiments with the Great Armonica he's got here at home.Talks  to  guys in other places too. They wanna see if it's possible to 'flutter' the Earth (yes, the whole, entire planet) out of this stinkin' dimension and into another. Gotta be a more or less similar one, with a solar system like ours, but minus an Earth. You know we can't have two marbles spinning in the same channel. Mathematicians say it's entirely probable such places exist. So they're lookin'.  With computers, I mean.

The old patriot tools around on his little battery buggy. You know, what grannies and grampies ride? Hums 'When you Wish Upon A Star' all the time. The princes of the sea, the great whales, are singing a new song too. They think this thing's a done deal.

Meanwhile, some a them vampires over in Jerusalem are fixin' to face off with them 'Song' people. They didn't make all them special, stretchy X-Men-like body suits for nothing, you know. So it's time to go 'do or die' for God and species. Will it help? Depends on how many  a them 'frequency bastards' they got. Some mega-geeks think there's only a handful. But try fightin' a guy with a left hook as big as the sky.

This is Zebulon. You been talkin' to Zebulon, Ace Number One, Disembodied Spirit Deluxe. Am I afraid for humanity? Am I scared for the Earth? ...... Hell, no! I'm already dead!.......


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Monday, November 21, 2011


Lailah understood. She knew it all. Everything she saw was but illusion. The light existed because she expected it. The keratin-like shell forming the skin of this worldlet was not real. Great Saturn still loomed overhead, accompanied by a retinue of moons. She recognized the details from N.A.S.A. footage on the web. Was it true? Was she there, nine hundred million miles from home?

Other beings floated by. Some seemed human. Some did not. All eyes, or what served as eyes, locked upon the centrality of this place. And her physical form began to dissolve as she approached. Tiny particles of matter streamed back from her body, as if ripped by the solar wind. Yet she felt to pain, but only a rich, all encompassing, golden warmth. And then she heard the 'chimes.'

These creatures are made from songs. The beings we call 'Enemy' resonate through creation like avenging echos. Is it us they resent, or our solid form? And she tingled as a symphony of frequencies enveloped her.  While back on Earth, her father heard her call. He bowed his head and prayed.

Learned men and women gathered to share knowledge. They met in a partitioned off, smaller banquet room of a Jerusalem hotel. The location was secure enough. No need for the complex in the desert. This was just a discussion. Somme of the senior vampires were there too. Their particular abilities may prove useful. A woman from Edinburgh had a plan. She wanted to use the experimental ion drive engines, send a vampiric crew out to Europa, or Saturn, or wherever 'they' were and have them sublimate through the 'enemy' core, in an effort to shred them up. Papa said - You're gonna need a lot of vampires. Do you know how 'big' these entities might be? Lady, that would be like sticking pins in a rhino.....There was silence for a few heartbeats. Then a man put down his glass of shav borscht, cleared his throat (remember, he was drinking shav borscht) and asked - Then what would you have us do? .............. Papa exhaled, collected his thoughts for a moment and said - Move the ship. Did you ever play Strateego, or Battleship, or whatever it's called? The juvenile examples of my form enjoy such pass times. And they know how  to re-position a threatened stronghold...........The representative of a Shang Hai think tank said - Excuse me, sir, what would you have us do, move the whole Earth?........... Papa smiled and replied through prayerful fingers - Well, that, my friend, is a distinct possibility.

Just a few leagues away, Jonathon helped Sarah undress, as they prepared to rest. The dead were safe in morgues. The injured stowed in hospitals. And the media kept in protective custody. No one in authority wanted this story to get out. Even in those locations where the Armonicas actually worked, reporters were still prevented from reporting. This was too big. The stakes were too high. What am I saying 'too high'? This is it. This is the end of the game. You ever watch 'em play poker on TV? You ever see where Chris Ferguson stands up and goes 'all in'? Well, wide up, assholes, 'cause there ain't no other hands after this..... Unless we win........... So Jonathon and his consort removed their clothing and snuggled into the fine, Egyptian cotton sheets. There were no windows. The complex ran underground. But it was still thought best to keep the vampires to their regular schedule. Sleep away the light. Worry through the dark. Their assigned space was like a small, private compartment on a stationary Orient Express. No motion rocked our twosome toward their nap.

He tried to nip her earlobe. She turned away. He massaged her abdomen. She ignored him. Now please do not suppose Sarah was angry. She was not. But his path was not hers. She resented his absences. The times he went away. The nights he spoke to others. His methods and his dreams. Something deep inside told her we'd survive. The world would go on. The enemies eventually forgotten. Was it magic? ....... Who cares?....

Relationships among life-eaters move slowly, like ice breakers through the Bering Sea. Centuries stand in for seasons. And millennia pass like years. So she laid there, and silently accommodated him, while her mind framed other things.....

Feel that tickle on your leg? See the spark that isn't there? Parallel worlds are everywhere. Some quite like us. Some quite not. Be happy with the one you got.......... Berma Shave.....


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Sunday, November 20, 2011


Edith and the others are watching a country music special on PBS. It's from the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. In case you do not know it, that is Temple Mount for American Music. The Grand Ole Opry started there generations ago. Some of my people came up to Philadelphia from the Virginia-NorthCarolina border lands. That was more than one hundred years ago. Hey Good Lookin' was my favorite as a toddler. Shame, don't see too many two dollar bills no more. Funny how cultures mix. I been lookin' for a gospel Kol Nidre service ever since. Not that the original ain't holy roller enough, but a little variation never hurt. You know what I mean?

The elves and cherubs don't go out flying much. They are scared. Crazy sh*t is happenin' in the Pines. We had some more 'bloody eyed' people runnin' 'round. Nobody we know. Nobody close to us. But we still heard about it. Snatched a little four seater outta the air too. Headin' for Atlantic City, I guess. God knows where it is now.

Edith says them as we call 'The Enemy' is testin' things out. Or maybe just makin' up their minds about us? She sucks up a lotta images. Gets 'em from the air. We heard what happened outside a Jerusalem. Saw it on my laptop. They got secret sites you don't know about..... real secret. You have to click onto two or three other places to see 'em. And Israel wasn't the only one. Those crystal, harmonic contraptions must be real touchy, 'cause about seventyfive  percent of 'em went kah-pooey.  Sixteen ballerinas from the Bolshoi Ballet and the Czarina Alexandra too came cartwheelin' outta the sky over Jakarta. Lucky they was over water, 'cause  now the Mother of All the Russians is recuperating in a Singapore hospital eating Geno's Pizza Rolls and drinkin' Pepsi Cola. Makes her gassy, but who the hell's gonna say? Already got some agents down from Voladivostok   tryin' to snatch her up and smack her back down on the throne. And poor Tokyo has to deal with a wild Godzilla for about the umpteenth time. Only now it's real. Can you imagine sweepin' up all that Godzilla sh*t? Damn, that bitch is over four hundred feet tall. Story is Buffalo Bill and his Congress of Rough Riders came gallopin' down a moonbeam right in front a the two thousand bastids waitin' to see the Armonica try-out, so they just stayed in they seats and enjoyed the show. Hear Kelly Clarkson's gonna join the act in Vegas.

You know how people are. They just shove they heads in the dirt and take things as they come. Sure, some a them survival types is stockin' up on petrified tuny fish and condensed beer, but most a that crap probably gonna show up at a tail-gatin' or something, or maybe like for trick-a-treats

Doctor Franklin calls on the phone every day or so. He likes the little ones. Wants a keep in touch with the elves and cherubs. But he talks a lot. You know how he is.Intelligent, but not too smart.  That's why Jeffrey Lurie don't have him up to no Super Box no more. Hell wid it. Let him  watch the game at Chickie n Pete's wid everybody else. Juss another old fart in an Eagle sweatshirt. Am I right? Mermaid-Hag likes the games too. She'll sit in her little scooter, so that ain't no trouble. 'Cept she keeps losin' her blanket and yankin' them shells off. Ninety six percent a the folks in there might be too drunk to notice, but  management don't like it. Damn, you can't even nurse a baby in that joint. Like if you were a lactating woman, I mean.

So either we hoomin beans are gonna find a way to confront this elusive menace from beyond the stars, or we ain't.

but I gotta stop now.... Greg Allman's on.........

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Leave a comment (along with your link). it stays up forever and SOMEBODY gotta see it.

Saturday, November 19, 2011


I saw it. I  touched it. My Armenian Cleric friend, Lailah's father, took me back there. We descended down into the Well of Souls, via a little known path dating to late Roman times. What does it look like? I cannot give you the words. Should I begin to speak, you would not hear them. They would be replaced with a prayer.

But I did not die..... According to accepted dogma, none but the First Priest to Zion (what non-believers call the High Priest) may hold the Relic of All Relics, the only earthly object wrought by The Hand of God. Perhaps I am dead and beyond such portals? The saintly cleric turned away from the Blessed Tablets. But I saw his features bathed in their golden light. And are we so very different, this minister of the Christian Faith .... the Muslim imam keeping watch up above.... and I a faithful Jew?  Was I not taught that 'the righteous of all groups shall share in The World to Come? Perception of The Divine Radiance is unique to every beholder. And we are all Sons of Abraham.

So I sit here with Sarah and the others awaiting the great demonstration. What will their contraption do? I have witnessed the like before. I saw the 'butterflies' in Philadelphia. I felt their fresh, clean wings. And I saw them retreat, back to their place within another realm.

Look at Sarah. She is so fine... so seemingly pure. Have we transgressed our holy purpose? Yes. You know that. You've seen our lurid revels twice before... maybe more. Yet I'd like to believe that they do not define us. Why was I not punished when I touched the stones? Why am I still here? I can't tell you. No one can.

We hear the speeches. We nod and applaud. We watch the films and see the carnage. Some cry softly. Most just stare in silence. Lailah is 'out there.' She is with them. Will they destroy her? I don't want to think about it. Jean-Michel sits two rows back. I turn and study him. So stoic. So strong. Still believing in the old knightly ways. He believes 'them'..... the enemy, I mean..... Well, I hope he's right.

The preliminaries are over. The rostrum is empty. A thin, small woman enters the glass booth.. The man in front of me begins to hiccup. His wife gives him a small candy. He stops. She puts her arm around him. How long does he have? How much can he endure? I can feel it. I can see it with my powers. A Peruvian vampire offered him some blood, but he refused.......

An amplified voice instructs us to don the headsets. We all comply. I put my arm around Sarah. She moves closer. I begin  to pray. Please let this work. Please help us win. Please keep us safe.. Remember, a vampire is but an altered human. Our 'hearts' are much the same......... And do you know what allows me to believe that? Our very existence. El Mundo Vampiriso, I mean. Forgive me, my ancient dialect, but I 'think' that way. Yet, if spiritual beings like us can exist, what greater wonders await? So those dispatched in lust are not gone. God has saved them and raised them up. Perhaps not into Heaven yet, but firm upon the road.

And then the late night sky turns purple, as a sea flows overhead. Great behemoths undulate through 'waves.' And tiny golden lights wink on and off.. I hear no noise, no bold, new chord. The headsets work quite well. All eyes turn up and are mesmerized by the sight...... Life from another dimension...... Perhaps they can see us? We stay like that for at least two hundred heartbeats. But then something happens. Random people throughout the crowd start to rise up. Others scream, attempting to pull them back. Legs kick. Shoes fall off Bodies flail, as the first ones to touch that 'other world' burst into flame and disappear.

The vibrations instantly stop. They were subliminal and low, but they were there... not sound... but more than sound. And the crowd panics as thirteen tumbling victims fall back down upon our heads. We can hear bones crack as bodies hit the chairs. Headsets are torn off and thrown everywhere. Nervous technicians race about to pick them up Hundreds stampede toward the barricades. Some stumble. A few are crushed. I take Sarah and we depart, as medics tend to the wounded. They have vials of our blood. They know what to do.

While only the stars shine up above. The other world is gone.............


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Friday, November 18, 2011


I know what might happen. I've seen it. I was there. Papa banished me in a fit. Do you remember that time? When he first escaped from his captors? When he first came to us? A snowy night in Chestnut Hill. The Addams Family we were. A collection of neurotic, well meaning vampires, making a 'life' among the comfortable, Pennsylvania gray stone manor houses of Chestnut Hill.. And then he came. And then it started. It was always him. It was always Papa. Do you know I can't even remember what his true name is? He may have told us once. He may have said it. But I don't care. And neither does he.

Jonathon calls me his 'vampirina.' That's what he whispers when we're alone. No one calls me Sarah anymore. Oh, when I meet others of our kind, he introduces me as Sarah. But they don't really use names. I wouldn't say it's true telepathy, not with most of them anyway. They can't pick up every word. They don't feel every thought. But vampires feel things..... and they know.

He's different now. Yes, I know about the danger. I'm not naive. It's just that we don't face it the same way. I try to survive. I try to burrow in and endure. He wants to destroy it. I suppose that comes from personal experience. They almost burned him in the Middle Ages. Not because he was a vampire. That came later. But because he was a Jew. He can't accommodate anymore. Jonathon says that doesn't stop anything. It just postpones.

So we're back here in Jerusalem, with a lot of other vampires and exotic beings. Excuse me for laughing. But it's like an X-MEN comic book. I was expecting romance and 'the music of the night'... shadows and fog... love in the dark.... Oh, we still have that. Jonathon and I, I mean. But it's compromised. It's truncated.

They're setting up one of those Great Armonicas somewhere around here. Doctor Franklin shipped it out. He sent the technicians too. Frequencies, it all depends on elusive frequencies. The huge crystal discs are actually beautiful, like monstrous lenses for gigantic opera glasses. The lightest touch draws forth the most haunting tones. We're out here to see one of the demonstrations. It's the real thing. They say it takes twelve people to 'play' it. The I.D.F. cordoned off an area in the desert. Oh, ranking members of The Palestinian Authority were invited too. For something this important, for something this size, they'd have to be.

Picture a thick, stainless-steel rod with maybe a four foot diameter. It must be at least a hundred feet long. They say they can make them up to four hundred feet long. Cranes suspend it from two huge, massive, oak supports. They look like part of a ten times life size medieval trebuche (am I spelling it right? like a catapult. you know what I mean.). The discs are brought out on huge platform trucks. It's very delicate, exacting work. Legions of specially trained technicians operate mammoth suction devices. They mist down the surface, attach the rubber cups and hoist it up. Each crystal disc has a hole in the middle and they have to go slow to get it over the rod. People carefully jockey the supports, one in front of each disc, one behind. They move one a bit. Then they inch up the other. It takes two to three days to assemble. When it's up, you see thirty six colossal crystal plates hung in size order. The largest on the left. The smallest on the right, ranging in diameter from more than forty feet to approximately ten feet. Smaller, steel supports are fit in at intervals to shore things up. Then they excavate a ditch in the sand running under the whole thing. Tanker trucks come in and fill it with a special liquid. I don't know what it is. Some of the vampires do, but I don't. When the discs rotate, they dip into that liquid to stay moist. They have to stay moist, or you don't get the correct sound. Big, huge misting machines keep the whole thing damp. An electro-magnetic force transmitted through the rod makes them spin. I think here in Jerusalem, it's a woman who 'plays' it. She sits in a glass control booth and operates a large console festooned with tiny lights.

Now they only had us out there after it was all set up. Vampires couldn't watch during the daylight anyway. But we saw a video back at the complex. That's how I know. Someone said there was a mishap in England. Apparently they assembled one there too. I don't know exactly how many there are. Dozens, I think. But to hear it in operation, they make you wear these heavy, rubber headsets. Well, the operators in England didn't have enough headsets. Fights started. People refused to leave. Threats were made. The press was there. They had to go on with it. And it worked perfectly. A sound-generated force field of sorts condensed over the meadow. Those in attendance saw rain drops pool and puddle up two hundred feet above their heads.While those without headsets saw nothing, for they collapsed and died with the first soul crushing chord. Medical professionals in attendance reported detecting tiny rivulets of pureed cerebral matter running out from their ears.

Soon it will be ready. The discs glow and flash in the strong, artificial light. We put on our headsets. Public safety officers in these parts are really strict about things like that. I'm sure vampires would be able to survive it. But no one wants to play Ulysses . No one wants to hear the siren song... at least not at full strength.

Jonathon sits next to me. I offer my hand. He takes it. Someone goes up to the front of the assemblage and delivers a speech. They show films of 'Enemy Atrocities.' We watch silently. Then it ends and the real show begins........

We've heard rumors. We've heard stories. Expect a scaled down worm-hole. Look for trans-dimensional, butterfly-like creatures to erupt  out of the ether and flutter about our heads.. I'll believe it when I see it.

Shhhhh, be quiet. They're starting now.........


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Thursday, November 17, 2011


My name is Glenda...and I gotta talk fast. No, I am not a good witch, but only yet another disembodied spirit. In my fleshly days, I walked the Thames Embankment as an eight pence doxie. That's a cheap whore to you. But life was hard. This was back in the time of The Merry Monarch... the second Charles. You know, the one responsible for breedin' up all them wide-eyed, little yappy dogs.Succumbed to the plague, I did. Five days a torture. Fevers. Boils. Ghosty buggies runnin' up and down mr filthy legs. My man did his best. Poured lots a good gin down my pie-hole (in my day, it was meat pies). Pissed most of it out on the mattress. Guess it helped repell the red-runners. Bed bugs to you.

But then came that night.  Even the rats were quiet. God's breath slowly left me. Through me snot. Through me sweat. Through me shit. Don't no one knowed it back then, but my shed-off spittals took twenty four 'plague bunnies' wit 'em, they did. What are you askin' me!? You wanna know how I passed? Just like everybody else you poxy bastards. They oughta burn your arse in the Fiery Lake! How can ye even put them words to me ? I might a been a red-lipped, curb-skipper, but I was still a good woman. Ask me 'Two Kiss Chollies.' They'll spit it out, yeh scabby-legged bread theives! Now, what was I fixin' to tell yeh?  Oh, yeah, how I  went 'gook.' Shined a light down me puss they did.  Them what was upstairs in Paradise, I mean. A dead, fat cousin called me name. Died from a hasty hangin', I think he did. Wiped his beak on the sleeve of a dumb lookin' angel singin' next to him and  up I went, whoosh, like ash through a chimney. Just.. like.. yer.. Santy Claus. Slow and nice, like snow goin' backwards.

Then some fuck-faced bitch pulls me aside and says no, I can't go in. Real whiney voice. Just like some little-miss-mother superior whose pop can't grease her way into no convent. Wanted to kick her right in a tit. Either one. Don't make no difference.

Never got me chance, though, 'cause  next thing I'm whaftin' through blazes. Real blazes, I mean. You knows 'bout the Great Fire, don't yeh? Well, I was there, blowin' through the smoke.... wakin' folks up and settin' 'em straight. Saved scores, I did. Earned me first Heaven points too. But them what keeps the books wants ten score more. So I'm workin this new fiasco. That's why you're hearin' me tonight. Ain't no wet-eyed, do-goody vampires here now. They don't even know 'bout me. But you do. And I come to set you straight. That part where their Jonathon tells yeh - Fist of all, we must agree that what comes next is true. The tale is real. Them what lives 'round other stars is comin.'  And some wants to be yer 'aunties' and some got other plans....

So pull up yer knickers and get on with it. Clean the cubboard and wash yer floors. Shake hands wit them what lives 'cross the way . You're  gonna need them.... One day you will.

Thirteen months.....Thirteen months..... No, I'm wrong......Thirteen months and three days. God bless you. Listen for the night whispers..... I'll be back.......


Wednesday, November 16, 2011


When Einstein and Bohr made their revolutionary discoveries they built them out of dreams. The truth came first. Numbers came later. When Michaelangelo revealed his David, the rock came first, but the hand of the artist set free the masterpiece within.

Reality... at least in one  form... already exists. It is for us to discern what is necessary among legions that are not. Do I confuse you? Well, how could I  not. For you have never heard my voice . Call me a disembodied spirit, if you like. Yet that is  not what I am. For my essence has never been imprisoned in the flesh.

You have read of an enemy, of aliens waiting to transform/destroy (they are one word to us) your world. I am one of them. We conjure shells when shells are needed. The plane-like, swimming creatures in the incubator known to you as Europa see them. They see light reflecting off iridescent, scale-like armor encasing a form somewhat like yours. That, to them, is strange enough.

Are we coordinates in space? No. Are we coils of energy. No. Think of us as frequencies, or rather collections of frequencies.... grand harmonics imbued with self awareness. Some experience us as the 'Music of the Spheres.' But while certain songs are sweet, others are not. And while some songs soothe the heart, others shatter glass. You have seen us destroy. But wait. You shall see more.

Ask not my name. It changes instantaneously, as do I.. But I have told you too much. Lailah approaches our presence. She moves through the sphere. Oh, it is real, at least she and the others experience it as such. And we know her mission. she was sent to bring back a sample of our substance. What a meaningless purpose.

I know she belongs to an exotic group. I know she is what you call a 'vampire.' We are aware of your abilities, as well as your disabilities. And we are more than well prepared. So please do not trouble yourselves. Relax and hear the music. Forgive our impetuous ones for any damage they have done. That will soon end.. For to paraphrase 'The Beach Boys,'...... you're pickin' up good vibrations.


Doctor Franklin sat at the head of the table. Members of the scientific elite flanked the sides. Each had a small , working model of a great armonica set  before them. Some were impatient. They touched their device, just lightly, just along one of the shimmering rims. Others merely sat and stared. The walls of this long and  narrow room were made of glass, thick glass, beyond which swam the mermaid-hag and other unusual specimens. Lights were low. Small halogen-like points illuminated each individual crystaline apparatus.  No one spoke. The mermaid-hag amused herself swimming up behind various egg heads present and making lewd gestures as she kissed and licked the glass. Everyone pretended not to notice, but a young physicist from Japan couldn't help her nervous, tittering outburst.

Doctor Franklin, ever the considerate host smiled and began to talk ----- Illustrious brethren, behold the elegant, elaborate toys before you. And kindly refrain from tickling them until you know their favorite spots.....

He rotated a few of the discs on his piece of equipment, producing a barely discernible high pitched whine. And as he did so, something began to condense out of the ether. An undulating form almost materialized over the table. Was it a snake? Was it a worm? Was it a maggot?  Shocked men and women pushed back into their seats. Two reached for inhalers. But then the old patriot did something else. The whine stopped and the repulsive 'thing' slowly evaporated.

So now you know why----- chuckled the notorious reprobate. ....... Low-level staffers silently entered, distributing sleek, new tablet-like devices to all in attendance . Doctor Franklin waved his away, but he took a small container out of a waistcoat pocket, opened it and deftly popped two ever-so-slightly large contact lenses into his eyes. Then he blinked, smiled and clapped his hands, calling each silicon screen to life......

Follow along, as I speak. I know  you understand the equations and representations before you.I myself will use an experimental piece of equipment. --- he said. The images appear right before my eyes, as if upon a translucent screen. It's easier on my old, arthritic fingers. Doctor Hawking, as some of you may know, has a pair just like them......... So did Steve Jobs (he sighed), but I don't know who has them now.......

And  so humanity begin to construct a defense...........


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Tuesday, November 15, 2011


there are many of us here. please excuse my mistakes. i am not very good with these devices. i touch as few keys as possible. no disembodied spirit channels passages through wilkravitz's fingers. i, jonathon, write this myself. those in charge make no communicative equipment available to us. the other vampires don't mind. most are of a certain age and computers are foreign to them. I fall into that group too but something made me different. i needed to connect. look at the assemblage of souls in my 'family.' we are human and vampire. and among the humans we have those you would call witches, in addition to representatives of long forgotten clans. thank god for our blog. thank god for that voice.

they keep us in underground bunkers. the walls are light tan. the floors are linoleum and slightly darker. ceilings are white and from what they tell me, the light comes from plain, translucent, rectangular fixtures called 'chicklets.' we sleep in little cells, not prison cells, more like monks' cubicles. no one has a roommate. there's a large, well stocked library for those who like to read. some play card games. we've all become addicted to the most wonderful assortment of aroma candles fashioned from oils and resins found only in the middle east.a few follow 'reality' shows. and if you can believe it, there are plans for a vampire talent show. Papa's going to do a magic act.

he sleeps somewhere else. they've identified certain old ones...... very old ones. my thousand years count as nothing. renate isn't here with us. she visits from time to time. she cooperates with the scientists and investigators . but she roams free.

physicians take small samples of our blood. they stockpile it. there's a collection of tiny glass vials in a laboratory two levels down. i suppose they're also searching for the so-called prometheus quark - that 'quantum' particle believed to be present in vampiric fluids and tissues. so now we're some kind of supermen.

most of the life-eaters here (a name we prefer to 'vampire') stick to the one feeding a month rule. and they confine themselves to 'unworthy' souls. but the authorities discourage us from planning our own menus. suggestions are made. victims are offered. i don't know who does the 'shopping.' i don't know where they find them. must be combing the whole world, because they come from all over. there's a circular, polished concrete chamber, rather like the pit we had back in philadelphia, or the one papa had in catalunia, when he first found me.

two individuals climb down into that space via a metal ladder affixed to the side. the victim goes first. his destroyer follows. scientific personnel observe from a 'theater-in-the-round' arrangement up above. i recognized one from the television. i saw her on nightline. the chinese are here too. they've got everyone. look, i'm not going to describe what happens in that pit, because it's humiliating. feeding is a very private thing to us. our hosts know this. they acknowledge it, but claim it's all necessary. our enemy is powerful. we have few potentially effective weapons. my brethren...the vampires, are one of them. every useful thing must be known. so we cooperate.

they're trying to obtain some enemy material. at this point it could be organic or inert. it doesn't really matter. experts want to learn how it will hold up to 'sublimation.' you know, what vampires do when we pass through solid matter. on earth, sublimating through a mortal human destroys them. the 'body' retains its shape for a heartbeat or two before raining down to the ground in a torrent of watery gruel. I guess we'll be among the shock troops....... that's why lailah is out there right now.....oh, god, why did they send her?

i know. i know. i know. you want me to tell you about the well of souls. you remember what happened last night. but i'm not ready to do that now. and no, it's not back here in the complex with me. look, we're not prisoners. we do move about on the outside. they allow us a modicum of freedom. but keen, observant eyes are everywhere. and not all belong to 'friends.'

be patient. you'll find out. and if you can't wait, use your powers. humans have them. telepathy, i mean. don't deny what you know to be true.....Scottosh beedosh....Beedosh boposht... Boposht skeedosht.... see the truth...know the the truth...........or something like that........look, i know old andalucian, classic hebrew and aramaic and two dialects of vahmpeerigo (vampiric tongue), not to mention english.....isn't that enough.

now let me stop. i have to find sarah......


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Monday, November 14, 2011


Her maggot-like encasement transformed into a frothy, bubbly mass which disappeared like beer foam. She was left lying wet and naked upon the fine polished floor of a vast chamber. A yellow-brown roof vaulted overhead. It appeared to be translucent. She could see the vague, fuzzy shape of Saturn looming through the horn-like substance. Creatures, or more correctly, entities sped all about her. Some had physical properties. Others were nothing more than dense ghosts. A few left only voices. Were these the Enemy? Lailah wasn't sure, but what else could they be?

A quasi solid 'sea horse' rocked toward her through the 'air.' It looked at her through limpid, compound eyes. Then it said something, though the sound waves never traveled through the atmosphere, but went directly to her brain. It told her to be dry... and she was. It told her she was clothed..... and soft, warm, cloth 'pajamas' enveloped her body. Then she rose up into the empty space and followed the creature as it rocked off before her. They progressed toward what could only be described as a small, throbbing sun. As they approached it, she saw that the floor was only a large platform suspended in space. And the vault overhead became the interior of a huge sphere. Other beings moved toward the pulsating light as well. A small number were human. Most inhabited other forms.  Some were coming back from the light. They seemed to pass right through her.

A seething squadron of metallic worms writhed toward her, like a teeming mass of minnows in the sea. Every part of her body was explored and recorded by tiny, 'electric' mouths, as they wriggled in between the fabric and her skin. The sea horse guide stopped and waited till they were done. Lailah looked at her hands and realized all the soft tissues of her body were transformed. The pigment was gone. She was as a jellyfish with bones and the blood in her veins was  sea brine.They hovered  for a moment, then went on. And she heard the light, caress her as they entered.....


Doctor Franklin hurried back and forth on his little electric scooter. Legions of specially trained longshoreman struggled to load pallet after pallet of delicate equipment into the holds of immense, big-bellied planes. Huge crystals (made by N.A.S.A. according to Anti-Enchantment-Bureau specifications ) encased in protective silicon foam, were lowered onto hastily constructed, impact absorbing platforms. A warm November breeze played with the wispy tendrils of the alchemist's hair,as he directed this massive operation..... a modern day Noah preparing for another type of Flood. When he was done, ten score silvery 'arch-angels' took flight to various points around the globe.  Ley lines they are called, channels of energy coursing through the planet, elusive in their meaning, yet powerful, none the less The old patriot whispered a prayer as each ascended . A few hours hence, scientists would begin carefully assembling huge, Great Armonicas. in cities 'round the globe. After the last plane left, the old man's keepers bundled him into a massive black SUV and headed home, stopping once along the way, so that Doctor Franklin could visit his supposed grave. He liked gazing through the black iron fence at the shadowy marble slab in the old, mellow church-yard. And he tossed in a bright, copper penny, deftly aiming it for a spot near his headstone. Then they left. But I am wrong. They stopped a second time, passing by a Wendy's drive-through-window. The old man likes his nuggets........


It was peaceful in the Jersey Pines. wilkravitz played Yatzee with two of the elves. Edith knit outfits for the cherubs The Red Paint people did chores. They appreciated well run homesteads. Mr. Edith rocked out on the porch trading  quiet conversation with a 'mythological' beast (I think it was a Jersey Devil) standing off in the shadows of a cool, yet balmy evening. Pin-Head-Mel talked gibberish to the dogs....... And I think they understood.


Jonathon and Sarah left the other life-eaters behind and made their way back into the Old City. They met Lailah's father and the pious Armenian churchman led them silently through the nervous crowds toward a rough hewn portal. Jonathon opened the heavy door, allowing them to pass through and enter the dark passage leading down toward the Well of Souls....... Yes, it really exists. Speilberg didn't invent it. And it's not in Egypt........ Those who regularly sojourn with us may remember an earlier visit to that place. Perhaps they went too soon. Perchance the time is now?


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Sunday, November 13, 2011


The universe is a strange place. Some planets speed around huge broiling suns, careening off each other near crowded galactic centers. Night time skies resonate with a ghostly pale light provided by trillions of white-hot stars. Life is rare in such places, preferring the cooler, calm confines of the more suburban outer arms. Picture an octopus turning a pirouette. Each tentacle inscribing a graceful arc as it spins through the sea. We would be a sucker three quarters of the way out to one of the tips. And by 'we' I mean Earth.

Now it happens that galaxies occasionally collide. The stars involved rarely so much as touch.. Interstellar space is like a fine mist. In this case, imagine two ghosts skating toward each other and passing through the opposing ectoplasmic fog like a zephyr through a cloud. Quite graceful, no? Yet some  universal laws are inviolate, such as the 'express' checkout is anything but, male lions cannibalize 'foreign' young and gravity will not be defied. Thus some unfortunate solar systems get thrown out of whack. And we know what happens when you digress from the law of whack.......They simply kick you  out of the galaxy....any galaxy. 

Does life end on the worlds unlucky enough to be married to such stars? No, everything goes on as usual. The dog still dumps on the rug. The kid who cuts the grass leaves a mess. And aluminum chlorhydrate still contributes toward Old-Timers disease..... maybe. But the night time sky grows ever blacker as the glittering 'ship' sails away.  Galaxies retreat. In the first few million years the 'old homeland' fills the sky... a lacy incandescence against the darkness. Then, far into the future, it appears as a tiny glowing smudge, before winking out altogether in the vastness of God's Parking Lot.

Souls planted on those isolated worlds dream not of other realms, for there are no other realms. The best ships sprung from the neurons of the best dreamers could never reach them. There is earth and there is sky. The day is bright with sun. The night far blacker that death. Would such cultures continue to evolve? Perhaps. They might make ever more cunning electrical devices. They may concoct exotic, life-extending brews and fashion buffet sneeze guards that actually work.

But one thing they do have that we don't is protection from alien enemies. A wind storm roils o're the Sahara. Abrasive, silicate particles rise up from the dunes and dance into the sky. All is red. All is one. Horizons are abolished. Cities are no more. And the Sphinx burrows in for a long, long nap. People in advance of the edge of this nebulous tsunami look up in awe at the stratospheric wave about to break. Some die of fright.Others begin to laugh and babble incoherently. Mothers and fathers hug their children. Old ones say their prayers.

The monstrous storm flies 'cross the 'Sea Between the Land' (Mediterranean) and does a lesser job of decimation upon the northern shore. How fared the Holy Land? Tolerably well, actually. The force exploded westward, merely touching them with dread. People of all faiths dug out from the never-melting snow, escaping from tombs too weak to hold them.

But far toward the setting sun (burning in a blood-red sky), on a relatively small river emptying into the Atlantic Sea, a three hundred and twenty year old alchemist (Doctor Franklin) extracts a series of notes from the ether. His Great Armonica gives second birth to The Lost Chord and wondrous beasties blow in from the cosmic void.

Instantaneous communication devices spread the Good News from Alaska to the Moon. Plans are made. Technicians called forth. Replicas of the crystaline device find berths in the bellies of Earth's most gigantic flying machines. The Light of Salvation winks over the waves. Are they safe? Not really. Not yet. But humanity has a weapon now. Pray they use it well.

Do the aliens know of it? Are they aware? Do they comprehend such things?........ I cannot tell. Their disembodied spirits..... if they have disembodied spirits frequent other Heavens and I've yet to hear them speak. But the Manta-Ray folk on Europa know.... and they weave their prayers with ours.

On a great ship... if one could call it a ship, Lailah knows too. And from her place among the enemy, she hums an ancient song.....................


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Saturday, November 12, 2011


Doctor Franklin has his theories. If you remember the time he experimented on Jonathon. If you can recall the nights our 'young' Andalucian hung suspended in the magnetic web of the Great Armonica. If you can visualize the instant when the cloud of butterflies materialized out of the ether and fluttered into our world, then you'll know. For what the eternal scientist did was access another universe. He knew it. A few of the agents recognized it too. And that key may unlock the door to our salvation. You want proof? Well, I suppose  you had to be there. But if you were, you would have seen it, because those gossamer little creatures weren't exactly card carrying butterflies. Not Earth butterflies anyway. Oh, they still had the real long, juice-sucking tongues. It's just that some of the other details were a little different. I know almost all of them died, or dematerialized back where they came from, but a few didn't. Look in the mermaid-hag enclosure. See the tropical plants? See the colorful, flower-like jewels flitting about? Now here's where we zoom in for a close-up. See?! See!? See!? That one. The blue one. The opalescent one. Focus. Pay attention. Shhh, shhhh. Now say hello to Tinkerbell face to face. Boy, Disney's was only a joke compared to this one. You wanna know who she really looks like? Not like Tinkerbell. Not like her. Ginger, the tall one from Gilligan's Island, that's who she really looks like.

Franklin can't do anything constructive with her world. It's too different. He's searching for some place a little more copasetic. A realm exactly like ours, save for maybe one tiny detail. And I do mean tiny. Like maybe a place where soft pretzel vendors don't pee in the bushes, or the top score on S.A.T.'s is 2200 instead of 2400, or like maybe their Justin Bieber started out with  another kinda haircut. It has got to be a place where we could live. If it's close enough, we'll all have duplicates there. That could pose a problem.

Now this is pie-in-the-sky, but the best solution would be finding a parallel universe with a solar system just like ours, but without an Earth. What, you're saying we could never transport the whole planet there? But with all due respect, you don't know how harmonic theory works. All we gotta do is get the ball rolling and the rest  goes right along with it.

If the place also has traces of a certain molecule, even better. For scientists from that Israeli desert installation made a discovery. They got a hold of some enemy DNA and tested it. You know how an allergist tests for reactions? Well, that's what they did. And a particular variation of what we would call common table salt 'neutralizes' them. They go phssst! Bye, bye, just like a puff a smoke. Hows did they get this elusive crystal? Well, they don't call this The Land of Miracles for nothing..........

Speaking of that desert installation, the vampire-human get-together is winding down now. Sarah's collapsed at a table with the Resurrected John Lennon, Bob Dylan and Yusef Islam (you know, Cat Stevens). She's high from her cat-nip-like aroma candle. The formerly dead Beatle is likewise intoxicated from too much of some kind of an orange-chocolate liquor drink they make around here. He's singin' Michelle' to her. Don't even remember all the words. Islam sleepily drums a beat on the table and Dylan's schmoozin' with some scientist about the possibility of life on the sun.... I don't know what he was drinkin'. Seems to me most of them could use a little Tea From The Tillerman (Stevens reference). You know, the caffeine might wake 'em up.

Jonathon's outside talkin' to some Reformed Rabbi. I don't know. He might be a Unitarian Minister. It's dark. They look up at the Firmament, all silvery spangled. Our guilt-ridden, eternally hopeful and reverent, immortal Spaniard sighs, He asks a question. He gestures toward the star-strewn skyway and says - What is the meaning of all this?.... Then he turns toward the carefully arranged desert shrubs - Why is it all here?..... The dapper spiritual guide exhales and says - Have you ever seen a toddler spill a cardboard drum of Legos on the floor? Well, it's a lot like that. It's not about the Legos, but what the baby does with them .Jonathon smiled. He nodded - I knew that.......... Then why did  you ask? - said the clergyman. But the 'young' vampire simply shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the sand.......

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Friday, November 11, 2011


Potentates have known about other islands of life in the sky for centuries. Hammurabi knew. Ezekiel knew. Julius Ceasar traded Saturnalia baskets with them. Your president, sitting in the midst of the Imperial American Capital knows too. So did the Bush ones before him and the Clinton Super Friends as well. They all knew.... They all KNOW.  Look, if we can all accept the fact that they knew about and exploited vampires. we can swallow this one too.

But most of the 'funny-folk' we had truck with were  sorta friendly. They might play a prank every now and then, steal a baby, sprinkle us with zitz (I think they did that to generate human pus. It has industrial applications on some worlds.). Only this crew happens  to be different...... extremely different. They don't want to rule us. They don't want to convert us. They don't want to eat us........ All they want to do is make us disappear. Look, I'm trying to be nice. 'Disappear' is just a cozier way to say 'kill us.' Ever 'put down' a dog? Well, then you know what I mean.

Actually, here's where I'm a little bit lucky. They can't do shit to me, 'cause I am already dead. Zebulon burnt up like twenty five centuries ago. But I know what the fire feels like. And I can imagine what they have planned for all a you.

Most a they vampires are out at the desert facility. Look back a few weeks. We blogged about it before Jonathon left Jerusalem the first time. Are you familiar with the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau installation buried under the old navy yard in Philadelphia? Well, it's a lot like that. They ain't formulated no plans yet. The vampires, I mean. But it just may be that the space cadets we got comin' (not countin' the ones already here) can't do nuttin' to them, at least not to the ones who can sublimate. Right now they're havin' an aroma candle social. The humans are eatin' cherry-cheese kugel (sort a like a bread pudding that thinks it's a cheese cake) topped with ice cold sour cream.. Claim it's very satisfying and refreshing. But I don't know. They didn't have nuttin' like that in my time. Our big treat was like baklavah. You know what baklavah is? It's got honey and filo dough pastry. My mama and my aunts used to make it. One a the kitchen slaves used to make it too

Right now you're probably sayin' - What the hell is this God damn, son-of-a-bitch, disembodied spirit talkin' about!? Who the hell cares about cakes!? We want creatures and vampires!!

Well, OK..... Gimme a heartbeat to collect myself.......

CUT TO - A  tiny outdoor cafe deep within the Old City souk (marketplace).

Lailah and Jean-Michel (two vampires) are seated at a small table far back from the artificial illumination. They have a 'guest'.... a third being. Any passerby caring to give him a look sees a perfectly nondiscript human. He wears tourist clothes. He appears to sip tourist-blend coffee. Could be some guy in a food court at your favorite mall.

But the two vampires see something else. They see a sticky, eight foot long, cyst covered, giant maggot struggling to keep its seat on the small, white, plastic chair. And he drinks not the aromatic, tourist blend kava brew from far off Sheba (Zebulon meanders through his mortal life), but munches on a generous portion of smoked human ass he's brought from home. Granted, they don't want to eat us all, yet an occassional exotic delicacy is quite understandable.

The aliens seek raproachment with the vampires. We don't step on their 'toes' and they won't step on ours. Maybe a few of the 'noxious' ones might bite, but the 'nobles' won't. Somehow they don't get that. I mean what are vampires? They're different. But they ain't shapped like pressure cookers, or French Poodles, or nothin'. They're humans, just essentially a  group of jazzed up, zhuzzed up humans.

Jean-Michel wants to throw up. He can't stand the way that space freak's mandibles operate. And the eyes look like two yellow-green mangos sruck onto a wad a sweatin' spoiled coconut-custard Jimmy Dean sausage links.

Lailah eyes don't say nothin'. She just sits. They want her to go back to one a the out posts. Maybe she's gonna be like an ambassador or something? Or maybe they're just playing games. But she knows what 'it' wants to do. They say she won't die. She's a vampire. How could she do that? But it's the way all non-native travelers are transported back with them. So she lets him do it. She gets up, hugs the Chevalier Jean-Michel and walks back into the dark alley. The maggot goes in after her. And the thousand year old French knight stands guard, as it arcs up over her trembling body, opens its oozing mandibles and swallows her down, inching along like a fat, disgusting, mostly decomposed boa contrictor.

And her tiny, bare feet kick and tremble a little, as the creature throws back its 'head' and 'gulps.'

The small table is empty. The plastic chairs rest askew. But a waiter comes over and rights things for a friendly, smiling couple from Vermont.......

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