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Vampires have no entrenched governmental authorities. Do not believe the childish simplicities they hurl at you via the magic, talking box. Although, from time to time certain charismatic and powerful beings attract a following of sorts.
There was Hitler's Lackey in the 1930's and 1940's and La Courtesan Arabesque during Napoleon's time. Some old souls may recall Beringeria's Handmaiden from Saint Jean d'Acre. We seldom call to them by name. And I do not know why.
But this time it is different, for now we have Madam Shang. She whispers to the world from The Celestial Garden, high up among the hidden valleys of of The Abode of Snow, known to those of the Crustacean Race (excuse me. I mean Caucasian) and African Lineage as The Himalayas.
Come, I will enable you to experience her semi-divine presence. She takes her ease in a room without walls... an expanse filled with the most delicious opalescent splendor. A dark, pearly, swirling radiance bathes the monstrous chamber in a palpable light like milk and diamonds,... and life and death.
See her seated in the heights, upon a throne that isn't there. Note how she manipulates the chopsticks, deftly clicking them together like long, thin castanets. And every time she does, another screaming mortal rises up from the Fetid Well, shrinking down to the dimensions of a moth as it goes.
How quick she is. See her snatch them from the void. Watch her study them, held fast between the golden needles (a special alloy drawn from King Solomon's Mines and strengthened with unicorn's blood.) Then, in a flash, she sucks them through her teeth and rapidly chews them up, breaking the bones, masticating the organs and savoring the flesh.
Moments later, she stops, considers some question of great, universal importance... purses her lips and blows the victim out in the form of a rather hot pink, viscous bubble. Bazooka Joe never had it so good.
But these are human bubbles, graced with the same eyes, nose and mouth they wore in life. And her quivering minions (lurking somewhere amongst the swirls and eddies of the opalescent gloom), 'ooh' and 'aah' at her unusual and entertaining ability.
Slowly they rise, tumbling through the void, til they pass above the sharp pointed ramparts and speed away on the icy winds of a dark, star-strewn, mountain night. I suppose they go 'boom' upon reaching the less pressured planes of the atmosphere. I wonder if it hurts?
And now she calls for the Russian. And now she whispers for Grigori.
I hope he bears great gifts.....
/</</</</</</</</</</<oo>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\
behold the SHARE BAR. depress it and pass the story on. your COMMENTS are especially savored. many thank you's spill forth from our lips...
There was Hitler's Lackey in the 1930's and 1940's and La Courtesan Arabesque during Napoleon's time. Some old souls may recall Beringeria's Handmaiden from Saint Jean d'Acre. We seldom call to them by name. And I do not know why.
But this time it is different, for now we have Madam Shang. She whispers to the world from The Celestial Garden, high up among the hidden valleys of of The Abode of Snow, known to those of the Crustacean Race (excuse me. I mean Caucasian) and African Lineage as The Himalayas.
Come, I will enable you to experience her semi-divine presence. She takes her ease in a room without walls... an expanse filled with the most delicious opalescent splendor. A dark, pearly, swirling radiance bathes the monstrous chamber in a palpable light like milk and diamonds,... and life and death.
See her seated in the heights, upon a throne that isn't there. Note how she manipulates the chopsticks, deftly clicking them together like long, thin castanets. And every time she does, another screaming mortal rises up from the Fetid Well, shrinking down to the dimensions of a moth as it goes.
How quick she is. See her snatch them from the void. Watch her study them, held fast between the golden needles (a special alloy drawn from King Solomon's Mines and strengthened with unicorn's blood.) Then, in a flash, she sucks them through her teeth and rapidly chews them up, breaking the bones, masticating the organs and savoring the flesh.
Moments later, she stops, considers some question of great, universal importance... purses her lips and blows the victim out in the form of a rather hot pink, viscous bubble. Bazooka Joe never had it so good.
But these are human bubbles, graced with the same eyes, nose and mouth they wore in life. And her quivering minions (lurking somewhere amongst the swirls and eddies of the opalescent gloom), 'ooh' and 'aah' at her unusual and entertaining ability.
Slowly they rise, tumbling through the void, til they pass above the sharp pointed ramparts and speed away on the icy winds of a dark, star-strewn, mountain night. I suppose they go 'boom' upon reaching the less pressured planes of the atmosphere. I wonder if it hurts?
And now she calls for the Russian. And now she whispers for Grigori.
I hope he bears great gifts.....
/</</</</</</</</</</<oo>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\>\
behold the SHARE BAR. depress it and pass the story on. your COMMENTS are especially savored. many thank you's spill forth from our lips...
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