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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thank you. for more, use the KEY ... and your COMMENTS and LINKS are always welcome.
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)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more, use the KEY ... and your COMMENTS and LINKS are always welcome.
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