Monday, September 23, 2013


When the thermometer falls below forth eight degrees certain things begin to happen. Big, shiny, black, crunchy bugs begin to die. Roachie-roaches disappear and city dwellers breathe a sigh of relief. Kitchens seem less haunted, that is until the mice move in.

And deep in the twisted rabbit warrens of the old quarters of Philadelphia spirits slowly awaken. Perhaps the cold still air is more to their liking? The gaseous molecules of the atmosphere slow down. Lines appear sharper. Shadows grow darker. Vampires look forward to the Autumnal Equinox for it signals the triumph of the night. And they do so love the dark. 

But we reference another monster now, a puzzled being unsure of his own provenance. A ghoul, given to midnight suppers on torn, living flesh, ripped from startled sleepers, alone in their beds. 

Johnny Jump Up solidifies. The ghost-like being drips from his summer sleep among the crumbling plaster of a late nineteenth century merchant's palace, a shuttered, forgotten, narrow dwelling surrounded by grander things. 

Tall and thin he is... impossibly thin. Wraith-like would be a better word. Wrapped in a tight, black suit, like an eighteen forties undertaker. Could be he was. Who knows? A cadaverous hungry fool, though in no way short on cunning. 

Do you live alone? Are you in the city? Listen for the rattle of a window late at night. Is that noise just the refrigerator, or is it something else? Would the neighbors come if you screamed, or would they cower in their beds and pull the covers close?

Shhh, the ghoul roams free, his small sharp, pointy teeth revealed by an evil smile. Such white skin. Such dead skin. Such cold flesh he has. But your warm meat can fix that. You know oysters are alive when we eat them. Perhaps you'll be an oyster tonight? The experience of a lifetime. Pity it comes at the end.

They say he can soundlessly leap from pavement to rooftop... three or four stories at least.

What floor do you sleep on?

Maybe you should move?
just reporting on events as they are. remember, we only pretend this is fiction. for more, click on ~>SHHH, WHAT WAS THAT? ... join me on Twitter. click on ~> Billy Kravitz ... your COMMENTS are always welcome. 

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