Saturday, March 30, 2013

The Night-Folk Had a Meeting... 3/31/13

'We are all responsible.'..... That's what he said. He didn't yell, or raise his voice. He just stood up, walked down to the front and said it. They had a good turn out. All the Philadelphia night-folk were there... the vampires, the elferinos (actually pubescent vampires), a few 'manipulators.' You know, they really don't like to be called witches, or warlocks, or necromancers, or wizards. They're manipulators. They know how to change things. A few people from the press are here too, mostly hip, young, Center City types who write for entertainment-leisure weeklies. I don't know if they're gonna print or post anything right away, but they sure got big eyes and they're sure looking around a lot. 

After he said 'We are all responsible,' Jonathon went on, reminding them how (most) vampires were revered personages prior to the Crusades and the subsequent Inquisitions. They served princes. They served courts. They served clergy. True, a few were no more than well placed, supernaturally equipped spies. But most took their calling seriously, as members of the 'demi-angelic' host. 'Cull the wicked. Save the worthy.' That's the credo. That's the way. And a small group of vampires from out of town, sitting together down toward the back, politely clapped when he said it.

Let me tell you where this happened. You know that 'nice' cafe they got upstairs at the Art Museum, the one with the crisp, clean tables and chairs and the well framed pictures on the walls? That's where. A few of the directors and curators were there. Two or three of them (social types) knew some of the night-folk from that ten thousand dollar a seat (for charity) house party thing Marianne sponsored a while back. Though none of them sat together. Uniformed guards drank coffee. Real cops stood around with their arms crossed, chewing gum and all. You know that (well practiced) tough, 'judgmental' look they got? And these weren't random cops. They were from  a few secret squads used to working with vampires and all. 

A guy from the mayor's office pleaded for discretion. He said there'd be religious chaos and sectarian war should wide spread knowledge of what goes on after dark actually get out. Said people weren't ready for it. That made Jonathon mad. Everybody in the room could tell, 'cause when a vampire gets angry, they develop a knife-edged tension, like a steel spring, or a deltoid just about to snap. Started yelling. Said - We have a ghoul, a disgusting, loathsome, spidery animal, shredding innocent people with his teeth, left and right, all over the place and how the hell do you think you're EVER going to catch him without some night-folk help!? What? They can accept Batman? They can accept Spider Man and they can't accept us? You know, fifty seven percent of males between the ages of ten and twenty four think those characters are real!? Just wait til we start making things better on the street. Just wait til late night street crime disappears. Alright, not disappears, but certainly diminishes. Wait til we start giving out REAL money to homeless people sleeping on steam vents. Wait til we start helping run-a-ways. The elferinos and elferinas are PERFECT for that. I'm tired of this. I'm done with it. I don't care if 'they're' not ready for it  or not. It's time and it's gonna happen!!! Almost every one of you sitting here claims to have some sort of religion... some sort of 'something,' but you do shit. And don't talk to me about some donation you made to some charity in order to get seats at the 'right' reception with a lot of self conscious, greasy faced sartorially challenged assholes grimacing for the camera. It's done! It's done! It's done! You know who's taking back the night? We are!....... Then he quickly cracked a kink out of his neck and sat down. Sarah rubbed his back. Somebody shoved a vodka on ice at him. He downed it like Sprite.

A few people clapped. Most, all of a sudden, got real interested in looking down at their hands. Nobody knew what to say. The twenty-somethings from the weekly papers started laughing. Two women from the museum started passing out these big black and white cookies everybody likes. You know, food's the best balm of all. Vampires and related folk didn't get cookies. They got pomegranate flavored mineral water.

But everybody knew nighttime in the city would never be the same again. And the guy from the mayor's office actually had a somewhat severe  myocardial   infarction.

Jonathon gave him a restorative 'bloody finger' on his way out.  That's where a vampire bites into his own digit, makes it bleed and shoves it down the throat of a deserving (or not) mortal in distress.

Six heartbeats later (after sublimating) they were out on the street and within ten minutes, he and Sarah gave fifteen thousand dollars to a well known homeless threesome (called Manny, Moe and Jack) frequenting the classic entry-way to the grand Central Library.

By that time, three or four of the all night museum squatters had crashed the meeting (it was till going strong), but nobody cared. The guy in the baseball-antler cap got three of the big black and white cookies, plus a big, ice-cream soda glass filled with white wine.

What can I tell you? Salvation ain't easy...

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THIS IS HOW WE DO IT... night-folk change the world ... 3/30/13

Jonathon had a special safe stuffed with 'flat' after 'flat' of hundred dollar bills. A flat is a neat, sharp stack of fifty Benjamins. Doctor Franklin really gets a kick out of that.  One of his (Jonathon's) familiars from the bank comes over every so often to keep it topped up. I think it holds like one hundred and thirty thousand dollars. So he's taking maybe forty thousand with him to get the ball rolling. Gonna give five thousand to each deserving soul. Look, it's a start. And he's gonna let them know it's a vampire doing it.

All the others plan something similar. Sarah's gonna hit a few hospital kiddie wards, like she usually does, only this time she's not gonna pass as an angel. She's gonna tell them. She's gonna say - You like Twilight? You like Vampire Diaries (and they all do)? Well, shake hands with a dream come true..... They'll go - Huh? What?.... She'll say - Would you like to feel the tips of my fangs?..... They'll slowly reach out. She'll take hold of pudgy, little hands and guide 'em closer til fat, little fingers feels needle sharp dentition. Then she gives them the vial (with a few drops of her curative blood) and leaves them a few bucks. You know they're not gonna forget that. Maybe even get to know a nurse or two, as well. Sarah usually avoids them. But not now. No more. 

Plus there's gonna be a few billboards around town. SUCK THE BLOOD OUT OF HATE... SUCK THE BLOOD OUT OF POVERTY.... SUCK THE BLOOD OUT OF LIES.... A whole lot of 'SUCK THE BLOOD OUT OF'S.... You'll see 'em. Twitter account gone up. Face Book page gone up. Maybe not all on the first day, but eventually. Jonathon's shooting for Pentecost.... his Pentecost, about forty seven nights from now.....

And this is the different part...the unique part. They're going to try and contact other bands of night-folk in other cities and get them involved too.  Maybe people they know from THE VAMPIRE REVELS? Edith says they can always hide out in The Pines, 'cause you know there's gonna be a few fundamentalist, vigilante types of all stripes out to make them disappear.

Jonathon wants to bring back that multi-plex, movie theater Coke commercial. He talked about it before.  But this time it's really gonna happen. And nobody's really unique. If he feels that way, other night-folk, in other places must feel the same way too. Not the noxious types. There's always a few bastards. ..... What was I saying?..... Oh, yeah, that commercial, the one that goes---- You give a little love and it all comes back to you. You're gonna be remembered for the things that you say and do.... That's it. Kabbalah, my friend..... Kabbalah...... Ka..... Ba.....La..... The Radiance surrounds us. Tap into it. Scientists call it zero energy, negative energy, vacuum energy. It has a lot of names. Maybe it's manna?

Who am I? Well, I'm not a dead vampire, or anything special, like that. And I'm not a spirit from old Judea, like Zebulon, or an eternal guardian, like Johannon (the one who saved Jonathon from the fire). I'm one of those guys who owned a men's store under the 'el.' I got shot. I got shot execution style in a robbery. Maybe you remember me from BINGO BOY? I think I narrated a few episodes back then. But who I am doesn't matter... YOU matter..... Go and do good things..... If not you, who?..... If not now, when?...... It's not hard..... and you know it.

Jonathon looks good, actually. Got them trim, black leather bootkins. I like that word. Got them equally trim black jeans. The white shirt. The leather jacket. The long, black ringlets. He is one tight rammer-jammer. Hey, I never said I was cool. But I don't have to be. 

Look, you want to start easy? Buy a burger off a dollar menu. Go in any fast food place and do that. Then go outside and give it to the first homeless looking guy you see. Maybe add a container of hot coffee, but I don't press. Do whatever you think is right.....

But just do something.

So the vampires are gonna jump out of the crypt (just an expression. I know they don't sleep that way. least the ones 'round here don't).

I bet THE DAILY NEWS will write something about it, but The Inquirer never will...

Louise, from her hiding place in the Art Museum, wants to help. So does the guy with the stuffed reindeer antler baseball cap.

Maybe a show down with Johnny Jump Up? Maybe they should go after him? Get some kids from a local film school to shoot it. Put it on You Tube? That should get a lot of hits. 

What do you think?.....

I know some of you get it..... Some of you have been here since the beginning. You know how it started. You remember...

First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction..... 

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Thursday, March 28, 2013

Jonathon sees SPIRITS Along the Way ... 3/29/13

The streets were almost empty. Jonathon passed a few people heading in early.... some delivery trucks.... a few guys setting up lunch wagons. Everything seemed quiet. It's as if he didn't hear them and they couldn't hear him.  But a bundled-up little toddler, snug in his mother's arms, turned toward him and said - Tell them.... And an old, bedraggled, street woman, shuffling along in scuffed, worn shoes, looked at him and said - Tell them.... Then a young girl resembling no one so much as his 'first meal' all those many years ago, pushed back her scarf, reached out for his arm and whispered the same thing.

When he got back to the townhouse the others were already settled in.  He turned on the alarm, stopped for a few sips of cranberry juice and went to his cubicle. Sarah was sleeping. She still breathed like a mortal. He pulled off his clothes and crept in next to her. Edith would be up soon. God knows when she slept... perhaps two or three hours in the afternoon... maybe two or three more in the morning. wilkravitz wasn't home yet. He was still in the hospital recuperating from his near fatal brush with Johnny Jump Up. Annie watched old, classic sit-coms on the little flat screen in her dark space. The Andy Griffith Show was a particular favorite. So much so she called Edith 'Aunt Bea' sometimes. Conrad dreamed of his old life as an almost monk. Baylah, snug in her jewel-box nest above her piano bar whispered to ancient spirits known since long ago pilgrimages on The Great Salt Road 'tween Timbuctu and Mecca. And Leo just slept. 

But in those fleeting moments, Jonathon knew the truth of things. And he knew the world would never be the same. ..... The desiccated mummies wedged in their narrow coffins at The Penn Museum (a one time vampire refuge) giggled. And the huge, heavy, polished, crystalline discs of Doctor Franklin's Grand Armonica, from their exalted place in a temperature controlled, sterile laboratory, resonated with a deep new harmony almost like the elusive, lost chord. 

The Great Clock high atop the William Penn tower of  the immense 'wedding cake' that is City Hall (at one time, the largest non-mortuary building on Earth) struck six. And all the vampires... and all the elferinos... and all the elferinas... and even the 'cherubs,' snuggled anywhere amidst the myriad byways of The 'Grand Duchy' of Philadelphia slumbered in that magic way only the night-folk can know... 

May you never know pain... May you never know fear... May you hide from death now and for forever, or until that time when all lies slip away.... (a Vampire Prayer)

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Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Vampire known As Jonathon understands that Everyone Wants something .. 3/28/13

After their meal in the little snack bar, they repaired to The Chinese Salon, a large space (part of the permanent collection) furnished in fine, lacquered, ebony cabinetry, dark red, velvet upholstery and fit for a mandarin, porcelain what-nots. The floors were rich, black hardwoods, covered with sumptuous, hand knotted carpets. Heavy draperies defined the perimeter of  the place. 

Jonathon wanted to sit on the large, low divan, a platform fit for an emperor. But Louise said - No... and got down on the floor, creeping under another similar resting place. She whispered - Here. Under here.... and the vampire slid under to join her. Even in the low watt lighting, discretely reflected from out of the way sources, he could see the long, sinuous Chinese Dragon etched onto the hidden surface. 

The crazy teacher girl known as Louise said - Look at the colors. Look at the red and the yellow and the green and the gold. Look at the black background. I think that's ebony too. Can you imagine living with stuff like this? They did, you know. A rich, noble family gave it all to the museum just before the Japanese invasion. I think they did it to curry favor with somebody in the State Department. You know, American visas were hard to come by and very coveted in those days. I heard they died anyway. Well, most of them. A few got out.  A shame they didn't have more furniture.

Jonathon whispered - You like it under here, don't you?..... She said - Uh huh... and snuggled in tight. Then she added - It's small and it's close and it's warm and it's safe..... But he didn't touch her. He didn't lick her, or bite her, or nibble, or stroke her. He didn't explore, or taste her body, as he would have in the past. Prophets don't do that. They just don't. So they laid there in the shadows, staring at the dragon. After a few dozen heartbeats, Jonathon said - What do you want?.... She whispered - I want to go home. I just want to go home, to my job, to my place, to my life. That's it. That's what I want...... The vampire said (although he already knew) - And why can't you?..... Louise sighed and whispered - Because the world is a horrible place. I didn't do anything wrong. But that bitch jumped all over me. I was supposed to spin straw into gold, when even the straw kept biting my fingers. Not that they don't need things, but those kids don't need school. They don't need math, or adverbs, or the Pilgrims. What are they gonna do with that? They're not ready for it. They need something else, like counseling, or better parenting, or maybe even hospitalization. Then they can have school. I don't know. But it's politically correct to blame the teachers, so they do. Every school sacrifices somebody and in my place, I was it. I was the little fix, 'cause they don't want to fix the big stuff.

Jonathon said - You want me to fix the big stuff?.... Louise said - Yeah... Two minutes later she dozed off. Three minutes after that he did too. And then he had a dream. The Lady Renate walked through a damp, green, dark, primeval forest. She approached him and she said - Tell them. Tell them. Tell them.

Just before dawn, when he woke up, Louise was gone, so he silently crept from the Chinese Salon, sublimated out through the walls and ran down a lightly trafficked Benjamin Franklin Parkway toward home...

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So Jonathon smiles at the crazy girl who accidentally killed her virago boss. She smiles back. Got ugly teeth, but that's all right, 'cause most people in The Bible never wore no braces.  She says she's hungry and tells him they have a glass doughnut case with a real snug door in the ground level snack bar. Most nights the guy never empties it 'cause he's just a real lazy son of a bitch. No, it says so on his t-shirt. That's how she knows. 

They sneak down a dark, little side passageway with a brown linoleum floor and tiny, two watt security lights. But the big green, metal door is locked. Jonathon sublimates his hand and part of his wrist through the surface and fiddles with the lock on the other side. Crazy, weird, teacher girl says - Wow. How do you do that?.... Jonathon says - Meditation.... She goes - Oh..... Ten seconds later, door opens. He says - After you... She responds with a curt, little nod, sniffs back some snot and enters.... He follows. They walk down an almost completely pitch black hallway, lit only by the red and white plastic exit light atop the far off door. 

Teacher girl says - So, what are you?..... He says - Uh, I'm a Spanish Jew, Rite of Spain. 'Sephardic' they call it.... She says - No, come on, what ARE you?.... Jonathon says - Well, lets just say I'm 'special.'... Girl says - I hope that don't mean you're a 'retard?' Man, a magical retard. That could be a dangerous situation. And I hate to say that word. I was just thinking how the kids throw it around all the time. So if you're in any way afflicted, I know it's a medical condition and forgive me....... Jonathon laughs - Oh, it's a condition all right. And I do forgive you....

They come to the exit door. She carefully opens it, looks passed and soundlessly makes her way across a wide, lobby-like expanse of terrazzo flooring, reflecting a dark, gunmetal glow from the clerestory windows above. He follows her and they proceed toward a snack bar tucked in a little alcove. But another museum dweller, a man in a black turtleneck, wearing a cartoony looking reindeer antler baseball cap was there first. He sees them, quickly scoops up his peanut butter cracker dinner and streaks out in another direction. Jonathon wants to talk to him. He wants to say something, but the girl shuts him up. She whispers - No, we don't do that. Leave him alone.

They go inside, take some doughnuts from the case, plus some cold drinks from the glass doored refrigerator. Then they slide into one of six orange laminate booths, lit by the weak glow from a florescent night light behind the counter. She spreads out napkins and they eat. Well, she does. He sips from a sixteen ounce bottle of Poland Water. Vampires do all right with certain fluids. And if forced to, he can down a few nibbles of solid food. Comes up later. But he can fake it.

A guard, seated in a little cubicle far away, sees them on one of his tiny screens. But he does nothing. It's obvious they're not art thieves. And he sees a lot of strange shit in here. So he goes back to his Maxim and leaves them alone. They rarely turn on the motion detectors, 'cause it's a mad house when they do. Birds get locked in. They set it off. Feral cats. Not too many rodents. Exterminators they got. So the moral vampire, known as Jonathon and the strange girl, who may be just a little too old to be truly called that, sit in piece.

Jonathon watches her eat. She breaks off little pieces of plain cruller and demurely pops them into her mouth. He smiles. She sees the sharp, tiny points of his cat-like fangs and says - What do you want from me?

He looks down. He swallows. He shrugs. But he knows.... He knows.

When you want to change the world, you have to start somewhere.

Vampires can't do it on their own....

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Monday, March 25, 2013


The young woman froze, as still as any figure in the sculpture galleries. Perhaps there was a microscopic tremor..... Perhaps... but then it passed. And Tomas called Jonathon slowly walked around the woman, breathing in her aura. He knew her name. He knew her age. He knew everything. She was alone and in pain. 

He said - I have come to redeem you. I have come to bring you back...... She raised her gaze and looked into his eyes. And Jonathon let her see his essence. She saw the 'magic,' if that's the right term. She knew him to be more than human. But she didn't say a word. He led her to the broad, marble stair leading up toward the goddess, rising up toward the Diana statue and gestured. She sat down on the first step. The vampire sat beside her. And she cried. No sobbing. No hiccups. Just tears rolling down her cheeks. And he knew. She killed someone... a woman... a boss... a tormentor... ending her agony with a knife. No more humiliating, facile, groundless lectures in the lunchroom. No more hurtful evaluations meant to satisfy a quota. She always got the 'cases.'........ tourette syndrome kids... vicious, bigoted haters..... fetal alcohol babies..... red hot angry time bombs. All the other 'educators' were safe. They had too much seniority. They had husbands... lawyer husbands.... BIG lawyer husbands..... They had money. Teaching was the wife's job. And 'hubby' wasn't gonna let her lose.... not to some jumped up virago like this one.  Trouble was, the virago knew it, so she set her sights on a more vulnerable target. She tortured Louise. That's an old fashioned name. But she wasn't from around here. Louise came from West Virginia... little place near Morgantown. Kids were kids. They said 'Yes, ma'am,' and ' May I have a cookie, please?'..... Nobody told the teacher they were gonna pinch her God damned titties, or stick a Popeye the Sailor Pez dispenser up her ass. Nobody smeared their used tampon all over some Erkle kid's face. They did not do that stuff. 

The virago didn't care. All she wants is good test papers.... standardized tests.... state-wide tests.... color in the black dot tests.... erase and make it right tests..... cheat, if you have to tests...

Louise cried everyday. Used Zantac like a condiment, or something. And she had no money. And she had no friends... no powerful friends. One day she goes to a health fair.... Gets screened... Takes a lot a tests. Somebody say she got a little bit a cancer. And she's afraid to use her work coverage, because they're getting ready to fire her...... Can you imagine them jumping all over a physician, somebody who works with the sickest of the sick, 'cause he ain't made them all athletes yet? ... I don't think so.

One day after the 'kids' almost gave her a stroke and she practically peed herself 'cause the afternoon aide never came'round for her break, she walked out of the building and got on a bus. Rode all the way into 'town.' Rode all the way into Center City. Head hurt real bad. Back hurt real bad. She knew how sick she was. Took her money out of the bank.... Not much, like twelve hundred dollars, and got a hotel room...special rate, one fifty a night, down from three. Figured she'd stay two nights... eat s steak... walk around.... duck in some place (like a chapel) for a prayer... and then kill herself. But that night, after an exquisitely savory Chinese dinner (maybe she'll persevere for three or four nights?), she's laying in her big, pillow-topped mattress bed watching some window size, flat screen TV. Sees a story on FOX 29 News, 'bout a virago... her virago, who went 'guhk' and died right in the middle of an after school conference with some cigarette stinkin', loud-mouthed, big bellied, juvvie-hall wannabe kid's mama. TV lady say peanut residue done it. Some viragoes  are very allergic to that shit. They havin' a 'vestigation and everything, 'cause it look like an intentional poisoning....... 

That's when Louise remembers... She used the jelly knife for the peanut butter. Wiped it off a little. Ain't no time to wash it, 'cause the lunch-is-over, hold-your-pee, come out and get your maniacs bell just rang. And sometime she think they might keep her. So she runs out to the blood stained, scrapped skin covered, concrete expanse to round up her feral charges. Forgot what she did with the knife. Forgot she leave it on top a the peanut butter jar... And the rest a the afternoon is a hell-hole madhouse. One 'kid' even dumped in the corner. And this supposed to be a quiet, suburban school. But truth is, just 'cause it's out of the city don't mean it's suburban. Sometimes it's something else. 

Virago run in. Starts ripping her a new one right in front of the 'kids.' Threatens to write up some kind a form. Tell her she better get a lawyer. Then she run out to help a lady friend teacher of hers who got the exact same kind a class down the hall.  That's how she does it 'round here.

Louise knows what's gonna happen. That's why she winds up in Center City. But now the witch is dead and she done played Dorothy.

Little later she walk out for a cafe latte. Even them what about to die got their cravings. But a Gypsy lady point a finger at her and say she ain't gonna die. Also tell her she better not go home, 'cause cops is lookin' for her. You know killin' somebody wit' a misplaced, peanut smeared butter knife a crime 'round here. So she dye her hair, buy a few outfits, stuff em in a big handbag thing and hide 'round the city. Two nights later she find the art museum. It's big. It's dark. It's filled with hidey-holes. Yeah, they got cameras and all, but they been shootin' ghosts for years. So how they gone know?

Now she got Jonathon, also known as Tomas, kissing her. Bit his lip a little so he can force some blood in it...her mouth, I mean.  'Cause she really was sick... And she really would a died. But now that Jonathon kissed her, she won't.

I do not know how he 'spects to utilize her abilities (whatever they may be), but now she 'it.' She the first one...

And she gonna help him save the world...

(more tomorrow)
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Sunday, March 24, 2013

RENATE SAYS....... 3/25/13

I don't know where it happened. But I met the Lady Renate, as I sublimated into the air upon leaving the vast, Laurel Hill Cemetery. And the circumstances caused me to lose all sense of myself. Was I conscious? I don't know, yet the actual molecules of my body no longer existed. I was thought. I was mind. I was soul. And so was she. 

We swirled together like goldfish in a Disney cartoon and in that way communicated. She knew of my dreams. Renate knows everything. Older even than 'Papa' she is... and even more detached from humanity... To her, even 'we' fall under that umbrella. I rather like that. You know what a moral 'life-eater' I am. 

She told me to proceed. She told me to have courage. And she gave me a kiss. Not in any way physical, but more like a point of connection... Like that picture high up in the Sistine Chapel where a paganized representation of The Lord quickens the soul of Adam. Only, in this case, my vampiric grandmother  had no physicality. I wonder how Michelangelo would have painted her.

But I felt strengthened and emboldened by this nebulous encounter and as I condensed into a material state, I heard her words.... 'Start with one.'... Moments later, I became aware of a grey, limitless ethereal cloud. Soon after, I saw contrasting areas of light and dark. Then I stepped out onto the dim, nighttime, marble expanse of The Goddess Diana Hall at The Philadelphia Museum of Art, as authentic an Olympian shrine as any Roman ever saw.

A figure stood there amid the gloom... an innocent woman... and by that I mean guileless. She was a patron, purposefully locked in for the night and hiding from the guards. Can you do that in these myriad halls and galleries? Of course you can. One man did so for years, padding along in an old pair of Chuckies, dozing in the deepest shadows and kissing the paintings of long dead signorinas in the night.

Sometimes the guards know they're there, though they chose to ignore these quiet intruders. You can tell a thief, but these are something else.  They sit and they stare and they ponder. Occasionally one phantom will spot another, but they never talk and rarely make eye contact, passing through corridors like wraiths in the darkness.

I soundlessly approached her, as only vampires can. Did she know what I was? I don't think so. Yet she didn't move. She didn't leave, or make a sound. Then in the moonbeams slanting down through high, leaded clerestory windows she saw me... and her eyes quickly blinked in surprise.

But she was the first one.... and I gave her my 'blessing...' .... After that it was easier......

(more tomorrow)
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Friday, March 22, 2013


I drift in and out of consciousness. JOHNNY JUMP UP ripped open my stomach. Few survive. I did. They have me on a morphine drip, in an effort t deaden the pain. Sarah, my 'vampire' friend was here. She sublimates onto the floor late at night, when most of the nurses are drinking coffee and eating these real big apple fritters from Dunkin Donuts. It's dark then. Well, 'darker.' They got these weak, blue night-lights, like something out of a Cronenberg horror film. Please excuse the way I spell. Communicating via brain wave sensitive head band and it's slipping down and cutting into the skin of my upper eyelids, the part that gets hidden in the crease when my eyes are open. 

Sarah put a few drops of her restorative blood into my morphine bag. The old guy in the next bed (semi-private room) started yelling. Said he was gonna tell. She begged him to keep quiet, but he wouldn't. So she ripped off a piece a duct tape and pressed it over his mouth. Put some over his nostrils too. He couldn't pull it off, 'cause his hands were already tied down, 'cause he was tickling the nurses too much and considering they carry sharp needles and urinary catheters and all, that could be dangerous. A lot a vampires carry duct tape. I don't know why. they don't say. But they do. 

Only thing is... the guy died. Vampires tend to forget how hooked on oxygen we are, 'cause they're not. So she , quick, tore off the tape, stuffed it in her pocket and vanished.

Forty minutes later, nurse comes in, sees his worse than usual blue-gray color scheme and goes - Jesus Christ! ... Took them three hours to transfer him to a dead box and de-corps-ify the place. Hospitals NEED better de-corps-ifiers. Everybody knows that. Doctor Oz talks about it all the time.

I'm still all mauled up, but I am a little better. 

Old guy's step daughter, Phyllis, says she gonna buy a boat and maybe a whole lot a pair a Uggs, 'cause she likes 'em so much.

You see, her name was on the will....

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Thursday, March 21, 2013

JOHNNY JUMP UP Attacked wilkravitz ... 3/21/13

This is Leo. you don't know too much about me. I'm the newest vampire here. Keep to myself. Do my own thing. Conrad thinks I don't like him, but that's just the way I am. Know a little bit about computers too. Not a lot, just a little. Used to hang around the free ones at the library before I got into this new hobby. 

Everybody's all upset around here. Edith is crying. Sarah's already been to the hospital twice. The desk nurse knows something's funny about her. Doesn't know she's a vampire, but she knows something's wrong. Think she's a Wiccan. The nurse, I mean.  They have like an 'energy skin' ... an invisible membrane that senses things.... little vibrations.... irregularities.... You know.  Not like Edith. She's no Wiccan. Still has her own religion. Think she's some kind a Protestant. But she IS a Pow-Wow Woman. Knows old Delaware and Leni-Lenape magic... colonial English stuff... old French stuff... what the Dutch did. I think there's even some Jersey Devil hoo-doo in there. 

What was I telling you?... Oh, yeah. wilkravitz got messed up real bad. Went out for some chicken nuggets. You know how McDonald's has that twenty nuggets for four dollars and ninety nine cents thing? He likes it. The whole box has like nine hundred calories. Not so bad for a mortal dinner, I guess. I still remember. Sure I still remember. 

He likes to bundle up and go walking 'round the neighborhood at night. And it's not usually that deserted around here. Always somebody out with a dog, or coming back from a show or dinner. It's the city. You know. But it was pretty cold last night. Damp too. And some of the streets 'round here are real narrow. One street light blows out and it's pitch dark... really. Sometimes it happens right when you go by. I hate that. I'm a vampire and I STILL hate it.  Makes me think who's watching? What did it? Who's out there.

Found him on a real skinny, little lane... like barely twelve feet from one front door to the opposite 'cross the street. Ripped him right in the stomach. Took a bite out of his diaphragm, some guts, a little liver.... regular offal smorgasbord.   And you know who did it. That son-of-a-bitch, ghoul bastid did it. Would a killed him, if he still wasn't weak. Probably crawlin' along the street, like a homeless drunk. Nobody'd look. They'd cross over to the other side. What? They're all real skinny. Only this one's got eyes. Real 'bad' eyes. Dark eyes. Like glittery eyes. Like dark fire. Like black fire. And he's crawling on his hands and knees. Drooling mucus and blood and everything. Stinks like from a carnal refuse dump. Couple rats following for scraps. Yeah, the rats are back, 'cause they know he's not gonna eat them. Got too much strength for that. He wants people now.... And he had to find our 'blog guy.' ..... We like him. He's a good guy. We like him. 

Some old man peeking out his curtains saw him. Screamed just like a little girl. You know how them old folks shriek and all? Called nine-one-one. Rescue Squad came out. You know, they got these little vans for narrow streets.?That's  what they use. Scraped him up. Put him in. Slammed the door. Drove away. They got him in Jefferson now.  Sarah says it's a good hospital. She should know... effects a lot a cures in there. But it's gotta look natural. A little bit a blood here. A little bit a blood there. You know those little vials they use? Those free, perfume  sample things they used to have?  That's what she likes. Some guy, a familiar, I think, sends her crates of them. 

Look, he's gonna pull through. He'll probably pull through... I think... Drifts in and out of consciousness. Oh, God. You should see how he's bandaged up. I don't have to tell you how many stitches. And besides the gashes... besides the bites... his heads all bruised too. I think it's a concussion. 

I'm not worried. Even if he dies, Tomas won't let him stay that way. That 'life-eater' gonna raise him right up. He's lookin' for a miracle. You know that. 

'The Book of Tomas'.... coming soon to a Bible near you...... Eh, but he means well. Wants a sneak into wilkravitz' room and juice him up and all. Sarah talked him out of it. She told him not to, 'cause he looks real crazy. 

You know, being a prophet can do that to people.

But I don't know what he's prophecizing about, 'cause it all comes out in Aramaic and Hebrew.

Look, I got a go kill somebody. What can I tell you... Calms me down... Makes my knee stop shakin'...

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Wednesday, March 20, 2013


And Jonathon continues~~~> I'm walking through a graveyard. Well, not really a graveyard. Graveyards tend to be small and attached to churches, or occasionally old synagogues. This is more of a cemetery, a modern invention meant to confuse death and a picnic ground, or perhaps a public garden. We've referenced it before... Laurel Hill, a sprawling, mossy, almost storybook-like necropolis filled with moldering, old monuments and Poe-like mausoleums. Rabbits hop before me. And other things watch from discrete shadows among the silvery moonlight.

I hear things in this place, messages from the property owners. Oh, many of them aren't here, at least not in the spiritual sense, not anymore. They just use it as a sounding board between this world and the next. A child entombed (physically at least) 'neath a carefully chiseled little lamb, says 'hello' to everybody. Then she sings a little song. Sometimes she giggles. One man POUNDS on the rough, cold lid of his iron sarcophagus. A pre-mature burial victim, don't you know. He chokes. He screams. He groans. He mumbles. And the sad thing is, his ghost has never moved on. He's still there, locked inside, among the crumbling bones. 

But a voice from an old mausoleum urges me on. It says 'Tell them! Tell them! Tell them!'.... Nothing else... Just that. So a prophet I must be. Yet I must chose my Jerusalem... my Shiloh... my Sinai.....

Oh, but 'we' are the things that dreams are made of..... And now, they must wake up. How will they perceive me? What will they believe?  A vampire on the doorstep, but one adept at Scripture. 

Mortals, mend thy ways. For if what comes next is not Judgement Day... it is, at least a first, cold 'hearing.' .....

I detect the voices of other life-eaters. Some mock me, a few urge me on. How 'bout you?  Don't you want the world to change?

Now I leave this city of decay and sublimate up into the air, high above the traffic on the expressway, on toward a meeting with a soul from long ago...

The cars form a glowing backbone snaking through the night...

>>>>> excuse this short epistle, but I think I'm losing consciousness<<<<<

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Jonathon known as Tomas Talks ... 3/20/13

I am all alone. Some of the others are in the house, but I sit in my chamber by myself. And I think. And I listen. And I write. Tea For The Tillerman, that's what I listen to. I'm being followed by a moon shadow.. (sigh). I love that song. You can't imagine what it's like for someone like me to be here, in your time, I mean.  Willow bark, the basic ingredient for aspirin, was witch craft in my day. And eye glasses, save for isolated regions of Cathay and the as yet uncontacted Toltec realms, were nonexistent. 

Though my immediate world was somewhat better. We had fountains and marble floors. Tiny copper conduits piped cool water behind fine, ceramic tiled walls to lessen the oppressive heat of Al Andaluz. And mighty dhows brought us the rarest powders and nostrums from Hind (India) and Nippon (Japan) plus the aforementioned Cathay. 

It has been said that we lived at a level comparable to  well placed Britons, just prior to the advent of steam power. Aside from some cultural differences, Jane Austen and Victor Hugo would have been right at home. .... And I long for that place more and more each day. I think about the villa out beyond the wadi (stream/river) in the hills. We had a lute player, officially a slave, but very cultured and highly esteemed. His name was Namib. I think he was a Kurd. His music mixed with dinner and livened many celebrations.  I still recall the melodies. 

Maybe if I died, they'd take me there, or at least to a heavenly simulation. But I am a vampire. Death eludes me. And who knows if past sins bar me from that portal? Perhaps I am meant to repent? Perhaps I am meant to act on the 'visitation' I had so many years ago? To make it manifest and take it to mankind?..... I'm afraid of the sun. So I won't do that.... 

Little steps. I will take little steps. I'll do what I have always done. I'll visit the sick and make them well. I'll give them the vials and share the blood. When they ask for a name. I will not lie. I will not play the part of a mute angel. They will hear and they will know. I am Jonathon... and I am a life-eater...

It's funny. We say 'vampire,' but most hate that term. It's lurid and coarse and dirty. Fit for penny dreadfuls and bright, garish Hammer films.... 'Vampire,'..... I am not that. 

Perhaps I will do as Marianne did and talk to them in groups. She did it to raise money for charity. Rich, Center City matrons and their carefully groomed mute husbands spent ten thousand dollars a piece to sit in townhouse-manor, neo-Sister Parrish splendor  and hear her 'elferina's' tale. ... And they liked it too, especially when Roland (or was it Albion?) scampered 'cross the ceiling. The wine and tapas were just an added bonus...

I'll preach to them. I'll teach. And maybe, considering my miraculous condition, they'll listen. I wonder if Marianne still has the subscription list. At least those people will be familiar with our form. At least they won't scream and run away. Makes it so hard for life-eaters to meet new people, especially mortals, I mean...

Edith's watching an old classic Jenette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy movie on cable. I can hear the singing. Maybe I'll go in and join her. 

She loves those sentimental things and so do I.

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Monday, March 18, 2013


It was a wet, cold, drizzly night. Annie was sitting on the floor in the family room watching Jay Leno. She was also popping the heads off he Barbies and switching them out.  Ken looked good with Malibu Beyonce's head on his shoulders. Didn't look a hundred percent though. Tipped over toward one side (neck differentiation), but she don't care. Annie, I mean.  Saw a rerun of The Beverly Hillbillies on cable. Now she wants to be like Granny and do head transplants. Wants 'Papa' to bring her some prisoners so she can practice. He don't pay her no mind. Just sits there like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere look-alike with a moderate case of catatonia. It would be a severe case, but he does move his eyes once in a while and go 'humph.' She gets mad and goes to kick his legs.... like in his shins, you know? But he grabs her real fast and goes WHOMP! right up to the ceiling, with his levitation powers..  Last time Edith had to go get her down with an aluminum folding ladder and a spatula. She never learns. 

Her little friend, Larry, from The Vampire Revels, called. Wants  to brag about his trip to Disney. Vampire 'parents' had to rent a house outside the park, 'cause they couldn't stay in a hotel. Maid wants a clean up. They want to sleep. She gets angry. They gotta kill her and all. And you KNOW what that does to a bill.... Them hotels know how to work all the angles.

She wants Tomas and Sarah to take her. To Disney, I mean.  But he ain't too communicative lately. Sits in what they call 'the parlor' (Annie calls it the 'quiet talkin' room'), 'cause they go in there to discuss things when they don't want her to hear. Tomas is in there now. He's sitting in a deep, comfy wing chair, right by the inglenook, reading a Bible. Look how mesmerized he is. What he really wants to do is walk the streets giving five thousand dollar 'flats' of hundred dollar bills to poor folks, only it's so raw out there, he's waiting for it to warm up a little. Being a saint is one thing, but Tomas known as Jonathon ain't about to engage in mortification of the flesh. Look, icy rain can't kill him, but still. 

Though he is really pensive.  Last night, just before dawn, when he came back with the box of Pascal Bread from the market, he goes out back to sit next to 'Papa' in the garden. It was cold then too. But it was a dry cold and that's not so bad. 'Papa' doesn't say anything. Just stares at that rock poking up out of the little ivy bed. Just stares... Just stares.... Tomas sighs and says - 'I'm done. I'm ready. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't.'...... Nobody answers. ...But Tomas doesn't care, because he told the truth. Last time he felt this way Baylah helped him. They were gonna convert the world. He 'appeared' to a crowd at Friday Evening Services at the old, venerable Reformed Temple Rodeph Shalom  on Broad Street. She appeared to a group from an artificial grotto in a little pocket park right by an Olive Garden. The Center City yuppies at Rodeph Shalom blamed him on carbon monoxide poisoning and fired the sexton. The folks walking over from the lot to their pasta dinners thought she was The Black Madonna and the cops had to chase crowds away from there for the next three weeks.

But this time it's going to be different. This time it's going to be real. No stunts. Just remember the message. Just remember what the angel said all those many years ago....

The Pure and Simple Thing.... The Pure and Simple Thing... The Pure and Simple Thing...

And he wasn't talking 'bout Ivory Soap...

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They sat in a back booth and drank coffee.  Sarah and  Tomas did that sometimes. There was a little twenty four hour pancake house... knotty pine walls... old-timey.  Had a regular waitress too, Cheryl. They always sat with Cheryl. Place looked out on South Street. Yeah, 'that' South Street. The one from the 60's song. The one where all the hippies meet. Only vampires meet there too.  Tonight they got crepes... real light, lemon-sugar crepes. If you cut them up into tiny pieces and mash them around it looks like you ate most of it. But the coffee they can drink. Certain liquids (like alcohol) don't bother them too much. And the coffee's good here. Very aromatic. Night-folks like that.

It's real quiet in there now. Sunday's an early night. Even the twenty-somethings who stretch the weekend with an extra round of clubbing duck out by twelve. Another couple sat up front. That was it. All the other seats were empty. Tomas liked it, because the place didn't have a big plate glass window, but little cafe style ones peering out from the booths. Had tie-back curtains and everything. Goldie-Locks and the Three Bears could eat in there.

Sarah said, 'How do you feel? About what you did last night, I mean.'......He just shrugged. But you could tell that it bothered him...... Tomas whispered, 'Don't say anything to Edith. I don't want her to know. But that son of a bitch was a real bastard. I know what she went through. I could see it. I could feel it. I could tell. She was the hillbilly Piney woman. That's what he thought. That's how he treated her.  And she took it, because the place was nearby and she doesn't like to leave the house that long while we're all sleeping. Even when she has her sticky buns it only takes like twenty minutes. No, Edith is a good soul. She didn't deserve that. And that blond bitch from the next block got her bra on straight now too, I want you to know. Scared her real good....

'What did you do to her?' said Sarah..... 'Nothing. I didn't do a thing. I didn't touch her. Just 'vaporized' up through the bedroom floor and stood over her. Told her what's what, that's all,' he said..... Sarah laugh-snorted a mouthful  of coffee..... Cheryl looked up from her Star Magazine to ask, ' You, ok, hon? You want some napkins?'..... Sarah told her they didn't need any, but she brought them some anyway. Guess she thought it helped justify her tip.  She didn't have to do that. Everybody knows vampires are good tippers.

Sarah wanted to know if the blond could tell her night visitor was Tomas. But he said she kept whimpering ' Malcolm? Malcolm? Malcolm?' so I guess she didn't.  Besides, it was dark. And who expects Malcolm to come rising up through the broadloom (warmer in a bedroom, you know) ?

Thing is, Tomas didn't want to kill the pastrami guy. Didn't even know he was gonna do it til the last second.  And that was pretty strange for him. He's an 'older' vampire. They're usually less impulsive. Look at 'Papa.' He can sit and stare at a rock in the garden for three weeks. Not during the day. But you know what I mean. Boy, talk about 'Zen,' I'll tell you.

But something was eating him. You know how he gets this time of year. Biblical experts tell us the true meaning of the term is not Passover, but 'The Hovering.' God does not say 'I shall pass over you and then move on.' He says, 'I shall hover over you and protect you, now and forevermore.' Tomas feels that. He remembers, for he had a visitation while still a mortal. I don't know all the particulars. He keeps it close. But one night, during the Pascal tide, an angel came to him. Perhaps while he was studying, or maybe at prayer. The Messenger said (and this was the message he relayed. he was not speaking for himself) I am The Unity, like unto there is none else. No thing can separate Me from thee. I am The Creed for all creation. I am the One True Shining Faith. I am the Light that shines through every wall. I am the Straight Road Home. I am the Pure and Simple Thing. I am One, so 'you' are one.' And in that instant, Tomas, rightly known as Jonathon, as a physical singularity, saw every sentient being, ever born or too be born anywhere in the omniverse...... Now, after almost one thousand years, Jonathon known as Tomas still hears it and even the fact of his 'burden,' his vampirism cannot void it's truth.

Tomas didn't want to be a vampire anymore. He didn't want it. Not that he ever really did. But this year felt different.

A bit later, while walking back home, he went into an all night market and purchased a package of matzoh, a package of Pascal Bread..... the bread of haste.... the bread of the poor.... the most basic form of sustenance wrought by the hand of man.... just water... just wheat.... and nothing more. 

Would he eat it? Who knows? But he carried it with him.

And I am Johannon, the one who saved him from the flames...

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Saturday, March 16, 2013


Edith was crying. Tomas found her like that. The sun had just about set and he was getting ready for the evening. He can take 'the gloaming' in small doses, but prefers waiting for true nightfall. Sarah saw too, but she didn't know what to do. He did. 

Some counter guy in the delicatessen hurt her. He snubbed her. Edith goes in there to buy food for herself and wilkravitz. Even the vampires filtch a mouthful or two. They grab what they like. They remember mortal favorites, even if it means throwing it all up a few minutes later. Sometimes visitors from The Pines eat over too. 

And everyone likes Edith. She's nice to everybody. Always gives money to local charities and makes sure the little old bird house by the back door is never empty. But this guy made like she wasn't there. Smirked to some bitch next to her. I guess they were talkin' about her when she walked in. She's all happy and all. Edith enjoys walking around the neighborhood. Never expects to run into things like this. They all think she's a housekeeper. A regular 'Hazel.' That's what she is. Sits down for a cup a coffee (maybe a sticky roll) a few times a week. Gives birthday cards to everybody. She's from The Pines. People act that way.  And she DOES have a certain insecurity about living in the city. She DOES think people look down on her for that. 

Look, who knows what she did? Who knows what she said? Probably nothing. But some people like power plays. Maybe the smirking bitch spends more money? Maybe the deli guy likes her? Who the hell knows? But Edith was there to take what they were throwing. And now Tomas feels really bad. You know how empathetic and emotional life-eaters can be? He can visualize the whole thing. He can see right into her head. Saw her quietly hug her pocketbook, swallow down a tear and walk out. Saw her slowly trace her way up and down the aisles of the nearby supermarket, as she sadly put items into her cart. When she checked out, the cashier said - Honey, are you all right?.... Edith gave her a quick, little closed mouth smile and nodded. Then she silently walked home, put all the stuff away and sat staring out at the little, backyard garden. She takes things to heart. She'll be like this for days. 

But Tomas wasn't having any of it. Not HER.  She did nothing wrong. He KNOWS how she feels. But that other one was gonna face the music. Not a 'culling.' He wasn't gonna feed on him. He was gonna do something altogether different. 

Edith came up with the name. wilkravitz, via the computer, found the address. And ten minutes later he left. Most of the night proceeded normally. But later...much later, he had a certain stop to make. And no alarm can keep him out. 

That deli guy must be the owner. Does well. Nice condo. Balcony, river view... everything. Neighbor on one side a big D.J.. Other side got a district attorney. But Tomas don't care about them. Not tonight. 

He sublimated through the glass doors, soundlessly making his way through the almost tasteful Bauhaus interior. TV light flickered out from the bedroom. Goes in. Turns it off. Sits down. You know those guys who are slightly in shape, but with a smooth sleek veneer of too much subcutaneous fat all over their body? Looks like they're maybe twenty five percent dolphin, or something? Well, that's what we had here. Salt and pepper hair, almost Mitt Romney style, a real pastrami Lothario. But nothing much on the wrong side of the counter.

So Tomas moves his seat into a moonbeam. Then he clears his throat. Guy wakes up. Rubs his eyes. Blinks. Notices and goes - Jesus Christ!..... But before he can do anything else, Tomas levitates up from the chair, floats over the bed (nine foot ceilings) and points right down at the guy's face. He quietly says - You, sir, have a debt to pay... Then he smiles, so the guy can see his fangs ... Three heartbeats later, pudgy pees the bed.

Tomas says - Put on some warm clothes..... The guy does. He shakes. He trembles, but he does. Turtleneck, well actually a mock turtleneck. His jawline won't tolerate the real thing.  Sweatshirt...pants... big, woolly socks...jacket...scarf (the cashmere kind they sell on the street in Florence for souvenirs). He's ready. And he wants to talk. He wants to say something, but he's so scared, he just can't. 

Winces when Tomas comes up behind and grabs him 'round the chest. Two heartbeats later they sublimate through the exterior bedroom wall  (powerful vampires can do that with a passenger too, don't you know) and shoot up into the freezing darkness, til the Delaware River is no more than a gunmetal, icy ribbon down below.

Guy starts kicking his feet. Starts trembling. Guess that leather jacket wasn't doing too much up there. Goes - Who are you!? What are you!? What are you gonna do!?? Aachh! Aachh! Aachh! 

Tomas makes like he's losing his grip. Guy goes - No! No! No!...

Then Tomas whispers - You know a regular customer named Edith?...... Guy don't say a thing, but Tomas can tell that he does, so he loosens his grip just a little and whispers - Well, I do.... Then he unclasps his hands, raises them over his head and watches as the pastrami king plummets toward the water down below.  Hit the surface at one-sixty miles an hour. Belly flopped right into it.  SMACK!!! Bones sink to bottom. Flesh floats on top. More like a grease slick, actually. Never found a body. Brother-in-law took over. Folks say he's a lot nicer. That bitch woman nicer now too.... 'Somebody' put the fear of God in her..... 

You know what I mean?

Edith never knew what happened. And maybe the guy really did want a chance to talk...

But who cares?

That's what happens when vampires right wrongs...

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: I make myself known to her now. She does not fully understand just what I am. But she is open to new things. I suppose that comes from being...A really good Tomas & Sarah episode, from the early nights when she was still mortal. Click the link above and come back with us to the tick-tock, little book shop known as PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK. Drink the potion. Feel the magic. Let the night sink in.... thank you. find more at ...your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome...


The stark, clammy, animated wraith known as Johnny Jump Up laid in the inky shadows.  No one came into these unused tunnels. Mole people knew better. Prey animals have a sixth sense about such things. But the ghoul needed help. His body was torn and slimy bits and pieces protruded from the scrotal gash. Would he heal? Of course. Yet even loathsome beings like he feel pain. 

Food... He needed food. Hot, warm flesh to make him whole. Human food... living food... Sometimes a rat catcher came through. They had to. Mole folk stuck together. Outsiders (except for the occasional vampire... they had a 'thing' with the vampires) stayed outsiders. Rat catchers weren't part of that.  They formed a separate caste. They wandered alone and they slept alone, wrapped in their greasy sheets and blankets. Know what they used for spears? Broom sticks. They used broom sticks. Everything was primitive. The end laboriously shaped via countless strikes with a chipped, hard stone. Neanderthals worked like that. Some said that's what they were (the rat catchers, I mean) , lost scraps of an ancient culture, hiding among a more or less contemporary, 'enlightened' breed, like us. It's not that they enjoyed hunting such threatening environs. They had no choice. Food was food. No one gave them any coins. No one bought them sacks filled with burgers from the dollar menu. They weren't your normal homeless. I don't think they even thought of themselves that way. Some people knew about the vampires. They had 'familiars.' They had contacts. Some knew about the Mole People too. The cops did. They had too. A small group even knew about the ghouls. But no one, save an occasional vampire, plus a few technical necromancers from Doctor Franklin's people ever saw them. Well, the ghoul did. I forgot to tell you that...

And he laid there, drinking in the darkness and biding his time. He heard the stubby scrounger scuffing along. He heard him jab the stick into a crevice. Sometimes there'd be a squeal... a small, little high pitched sound . Then the 'man' would cough and mutter, pick it up and stow it somewhere among the folds and tucks of his filthy attire. After a bit, he drew closer. The ghoul painfully rolled over, slow and deliberate, like a lizard.... still and quiet on the damp, sharp gravel. Then he silently inched along on his belly, like a slug toward a plump, green shoot. A dead looking (had you been able to see it) bony arm reached out from a tight, black sleeve. He flexed his claw-like fingers and waited.

Meat was coming. He couldn't eat the rats, even had they not avoided him. But this was different. This was food. This was his salvation, or at least the beginning of it.

So he grinned... And he watched... And he dreamed...

How he savored the ripping of the flesh.... the 'silver skin' encasing every muscle... the bitter, pungent tang of the viscera.... the mushroomy softness of the brain.

A few nights... A few meals... A few faces (cheek meat was so sweet) and he'd be whole....

You can't kill a ghoul..... You just can't.....

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Thursday, March 14, 2013

TREASURES FROM THE VAULT... tastes of Tomas' early nights .. 3/15/13

Please scroll down and read the two posts under this. We found them in the vault, exquisite morsels from the first nights of Tomas' nocturnal life. Remember to click on the links at the top of each entry for more.... or wander through hundreds at OUR VAMPIRIC COLLECTION ..... Your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: Things like this were common practice among the vampirisi in the old days ~~~ This is not fiction. I am not supposed to say it, but I have ...Two 'brides' for the newly minted vampirino. Both preserve him in their own special way..... a 'meal' and a 'mother'...Please know that this is not the actual post. To see that, you must click on the golden link up top...If you want to see more episodes in the lives of our life-eaters, click on THE MAGIC PORTAL ... and as always, your COMMENTS and LINKS are extremely welcome.

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE MARTYRDOM... plucked from the ashes

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE MARTYRDOM... plucked from the ashes: Do you promise to accept this as fiction? During a lull in the hymn singing (their cantor was very good, actually) we heard the pounding ro...How Jonathon ben Macabi (also known as Tomas de Macabea) faced death as a martyr and rose as a vampirino... A very early post. I think maybe eight people saw it back then. But this is how it happened and we only pretend that it's fiction... but PLEASE REALIZE this IS NOT the POST. You MUST click on what's up top to SEE it..... More at WHOLE LOT A ROMANTIC EXOTIC VAMPIRE STUFF  ..... your COMMENTS, accompanied by YOUR links are extremely welcome.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK gettin' all juiced up..... 3/14/13

Annie came in and slammed the door. She threw a little paper bag of Scrunchies and other hair ornaments on the hall table. Then she stomped into the little, book-lined den and clicked on the television. Edith (who'd been quietly crocheting in a corner) looked up and said - What the hell happened to you?..... Nuthin' - said the stringy haired, little vampirina, as she punched in the numbers for the History Channel. Something about the Union-Pacific Railroad came on. She didn't like that and yelled - F*CK! F*UK! F*CK! F*CK! F*CK!..... Edith went - Will you shut the front door, you foul-mouthed little thing you?!.... Annie didn't answer, but just burrowed deeper into the throw pillows, scowling at the screen..... Where the hell's Hitler!? Ain't this the ALL-HITLER station? - she yelled. Annie likes to watch killing, perversion and satanic mayhem and this choo-choo train crap wasn't doin' it for her.

Edith went over to the desk, got a little green apple candle out of a drawer, put it in like a big shot glass (from the same drawer), lit it and gave it to her...... Here - she said, calm your little psycho self down, you weird, little bastid. Where'd you go tonight. Before the CVS for all the hair crap, I mean....

But Annie didn't answer... And Edith already knew. She just wanted her to talk about it. Witchy, Piney-Wimmen know everything. They just don't wanna look stuck up is all..... Equinox comin'. Big doings. Red Paint People in the Pines (other more or less human varieties too) got this big 'Matilda' thing comin', 'bout some girl what got herself all killed up 'fore she supposed to. She like meant to be a Talk-To-God women. That their medicine woman. That their shaman...... Horsey Skeezix, the little Jersey Debbil kid (that what you call a baby Jersey Devil) say he see her smoky ghost wafting 'round like a hula dancer. He real surprised. He say -Who you!?..... She say - Don't look at me, you little son-of-a-bitch..... So he spit his saltwater taffy right through her and she go away, flyin' back into them pine trees. 

Tomas all juiced up too. He get that way 'round Passover Time. Sit in his talk-to-God room lookin' at candles. Not aroma candles. These religious candles. You can tell, 'cause they ain't got no fancy colors in 'em Look like what old time folks used a burn on top a skulls....... And Johannon, he the disembodied spirit of the guy what saved Tomas from the fire, when them Crusader goomers try an' burn his still mortal self up in some French, Jew-church all them years ago (lemme take a breath)... wanna come back and tell it all. He wanna be the narrator. 

But them what knows us understand how territorial Mister Never You Mind can be..... That me. That who doin' the story tellin' now.

Philadelphia after dark really startin' a perk-a-late. But 'least Johnny Jump Up ain't gonna trouble nobody. Not for little while anyway. 

Little Bastid Annie see to that...

An' you best remember... We just pretend this is fiction...

eternal thanks to all you Grand Poobah's who read this. check out and click STUFF YOU PROBABLY MISSED ... to fill you up with all of it.  we desperately crave your COMMENTS & LINKS too. .... now I gotta stop so we can see what Justin Timberlake gonna sing... if he do sing....