Thursday, November 3, 2011


This is Johannan. I was once Jonathon's servant. I saved him from burning all those many lifetimes ago. I pushed him under the stone table. He lived. I died. And he became a vampire. Did I do the right thing? Does it matter? I am, as you may recall, a disembodied spirit, currently sojourning among the faithful of Jerusalem. I 'walk' with Jean-Michel and Lailah and Renate and The Three Magcicians. But our world is in turmoil, so I speak for my former charge.

An evil force, a brutal enemy threatens our part of the Firmament. Evil jinns? Gossip not of those spiteful children. I've come to warn of World Crushers and Soul Killers. The one you know as 'Papa' is correct. Something wicked, this way comes. Where have I heard that phrase? Is it in The Bible? Or maybe someplace else?

Look at them, resting among the Piney People. Such false security. Papa knows. So does the Lady Renate. She has eminated out from the Holy City, hiding among the dark, chill depths of a world known to the 'Kittim' (Hebrew term for Romans) as Europa. I two would look, but I am afraid. Too many bloodthirsty demons have breeched these eyes. I will not recognize such devils anymore.

The tragic ones, the elves and cherubs settle right in, flitting about the cold, night woodlands like so many Puckish sprites. Jonathon sits and talks with the Forest Folk. Sarah knits with the ladies. Papa attempts to commune with his vampiric mother. He wants to 'talk' with Renate. But The enemy knows this and they confound his efforts.

Some say they are a piscene species, scaled and toothless, but possessed of hard, thick, crushing lips. Others calim spiders. A few talk of centaurs. Perhaps they are all three and even many more? Who can guess at the wizardry of such old ones?

Aristocratic Manta Ray People glide silently passed their unwelcome guests. Europa is in tears, for they are not a marshall race and cannot send them packing. Renate confers with their king. They've handled 'black-hearts' before, but none so dark as these. Look at them smirking. See them undulate down the sunless boulevards. Shape-changers, usurpers, theives. Hear them utter empty prayers. Know the hate-filled gaze. 

Believers will be tested. And I speak not of any one particular Divine Footpath. For as the Kittim say - All roads lead to Rome.

Baylah rests among the subterranean, Philo-delphian necromancers. You may know them as The-Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. Doctor Franklin  suspends her in a miraculous, lode-stone web. And the music of it, the melody of the Grand Armonica is sublime in all its forms. She mends. And there are whispers among the corridors. Some say he seeks an opening, a tiny delicate thread of creation linking our world to the next. No, I speak not of The Heavenly Realm, but of parallel kingdoms. Universes, I think you call them. For if The Enemy prevails, such will be your only means of escape..........

Now please, allow me to forget a moment. Permit me to drift off and listen, for Jonathon sings songs in Old Vahmpeerigo (archaic, vampire, Catalan-like, Romance Language) and I do so love the sound of his voice.

Enjoy the balm of these resinous woods, my best beloved. Rest easy... for a while. The war comes soon enough......... Evil jinns? Bah! Don't make me laugh!


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