Tuesday, December 31, 2013

DARK ........ 1/1/13

He struggled to his feet and stood there, watching them wield the metal cover back in place. Three minutes later they were done. He heard them pick up the tools, scramble into the helicopter and lift off. And then he heard nothing... absolutely nothing... Sealed in a maze of cold, black, silence. No one ever said where they were taking him. No one ever said what they'd do... if he'd live... if he'd die. An ice pick through the eye would have been better. 

He wanted to sit down, but was scared to make any noise at all. He wanted to curl up with his back pressed tightly into a corner and wait for death. Where were the walls? What was in there? How would it end? How vast was the space behind him and what was back there? He wanted to pray, but was afraid to whisper and unless he said the words they didn't seem real. 

Then he hiccuped.... a simple spasm of the diaphragm. But the sound absolutely terrified him. Five heartbeats later he heard another hiccup, but it was not his own. He listened, still and quiet as a corpse. The sound never came again. And he stayed that way till he fell asleep. Sometime later he awoke on the floor with his mouth pressed against a pool of drool on what tasted like dirty linoleum. Still nothing. No light. No sound. And he peed. He couldn't help it. He just peed. Then he slowly got up and began to shuffle into the void. 

Now ghosts can be patient. Time means nothing to them. To be dead for a heartbeat is the same as a billion years. Indeed, some are immobile statues, staring and thinking and feeling for eons. And the man slowly progressed for seventy two hours before he met one. First he heard the dripping. First he heard the water. He felt along the wall till he found a door and he ever so softly opened it.... drip... drip... drip... He heard it again. He needed it. He wanted it. So he got down on his hands and knees and began to crawl. Somehow it felt safer close to the hard, cold, tile floor. The sharp, little bone right below each knee cap pinched the skin and what little flesh there was behind it tight against the floor. But still he went on. ... Shhh, was that a sigh, or just the silent hissing in his skull?

Where were the bugs? There were no bugs. And where were the mice, the rats, the vermin? Suddenly the lights flickered. He tensed. He flinched. He saw her. There before him, maybe eighteen inches away sat a huge, white., reeking mound. A neolithic 'Venus' sheathed in fat, enthroned in a shallow,galvanized tub beneath a rusty, dripping shower head protruding from a cracked and peeling ceiling. 

He froze. The thing looked down at him through flat, white, lifeless eyes and smiled, revealing rotted teeth and pink-red, bleeding gums. Then he saw the maggots. She was sitting in them. The tub was filled with them and she was eating them.

The illumination, or whatever it was flickered again. She was gone. The tub was clean and all was quiet. Then he heard a click and it was dark once more. He cried. He sobbed. He was thirsty and desperately wanted to find the knob that would release the water, if there was water. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't move he was afraid to leave the floor. So he felt his way over to a wall and made for the hallway again.

Perhaps it was all just an hallucination? Sensory deprivation can cause such things. Perhaps that's all it was? 

But then he heard the voices and soon he heard the screams. God help me. God help me. God help me. He whispered over and over again. He sat with his back pressed hard against the wall..... till something under the paint began to move...

God help me. God help me. But this time it wasn't him...

And then what lay beneath the paint broke through...

'The Dark'..... more tomorrow.


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ISOLATION ........... 12/31/13

The Russian steppes go on forever.... endless vistas of tussock and tundra... no trees... just horizon... a sea that doesn't move. Human structures and other artificial violations  are rare in these parts, but occasionally you'll come across isolated rotting structures. Some are small, though others seem like neolithic cities. Rooms open into rooms. And crumbling, linoleum passageways lead nowhere. 

They say Stalinist technicians tried to make monsters here, sad hominid mixes, part man, part ape. Officially they never succeeded.. But that was just officially. And when Moscow lost interest the technicians were recycled into something else. That's what they did. One day a big truck pulled up. Nameless, low level functionaries man-handled two or three heavyweight wood chippers out onto the permafrost.

That night at dinner (maybe 'evening  feeding would be more accurate), the soup had a certain tang and after the vodka and babkah, all were fast asleep. A bit later, silent minions commandeered from an up river gulag laid each technician down upon the floor of the recreation hall, a wide, unfinished space used for basketball and public canings. Both equally entertaining and well attended. The sleeping communists were trussed up like suckling pigs, carried to the wood chippers and unceremoniously lowered in. 'Bone meal' I think they called it and cattle all the way to the Urals were glad to get it.

Then cages housing curious half human creations were emptied. Everything else of value disappeared into the pockets of nomenclatura (Soviet nobles) in the capital, or perhaps Leningrad. The whole place was sloshed with a solution of water and carbolic acid, locked up and abandoned. 

For eighty years none but the rats and some screaming, disembodied souls knew its name.

Each window was sealed behind chipped green metal shutters, wielded into place. And the ghosts walked in darkness, for no light came within.

No road came this way. No troika passed in winter. Only the wind rushed by.... til one night something happened. A conveyance dropped from the stars. A helicopter came down all black and new and shiny, landing on the roof (that part, reinforced cement) like a huge, nocturnal dragonfly.

Two masked figures, obviously familiar with the place, or at least the blueprints of it, hurried to a skylight and via small, controlled explosions blasted off its metal lid. Then two others with drawn weapons led a third figure to the opening and lowered him in. Within minutes the skylight was resealed and they were gone.

All was as before..... except for the living figure locked within...

But he was not alone...


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Monday, December 30, 2013

The VAMPIRE Known as Tomas Forms a Fraternal Group on Penn's Campus... 12/30/13

There were five of them, not counting the vampire. They met in this little cafe place off campus and crowded into  one of those circular, corner booths in the back. Sunday night, after midnight, forty-eight hours (actually a little less) til New Year's Eve. Joint was empty. From the front it looked like they were closed and they were, but the owner was friendly with Doctor Franklin and let them in because of him. The old patriot-reprobate wasn't in attendance. He'd hosted an Eagles-Cowboys party earlier in the evening and was enjoying nightcaps with the last of his guests in his stylish digs beneath the Navy Yard deep within the womb of The Anti-Enchantment Bureau.  I suppose our vampire, friend, Tomas, contacted him. After all, his group, The Junto, was the first good works and mutual aid society, outside the bonds of religion, on Earth. And Tomas was an unnamed member of that. Seventeen twenty seven or so. That's when I think it started. Twenty one he was. Ben Franklin, I mean. The other original members were much older than he, but America's secular prophet (what else was he back then?) was obviously their leader. 

Tomas imagined such an arrangement for his group. Brainy college kids, from somewhat influential backgrounds, willing to met weekly and share what they knew. An earlier local synod, also called 'The Junto' and coincidentally born on Penn's campus too (2011) filled a similar niche. Other groups of educated, young gentlemen throughout the United States and overseas, as well, formed their own chapters. Learn what can be learned. Use it for 'the good.' Help society... and each other. But none of them had a vampire at the core. Though some claimed there was one in Yale's Skull and Bones, but I don't know who he was (is?), or who they helped, or what went on over there, or if that's even true. 

The cafe owner brought out steaming mugs of coffee and toasted sticky buns for the mortals and laid it all out upon the large, round, varnished table. Vampires can tolerate plain, hot tea, so Tomas got a mug of that. And there in that place , down a little side street, snug in the back of a vaguely Early American style cafe The Junto Vampirido was born.

In an effort to speed and facilitate things, please allow me to relate the proceedings in loose, script format.

Tomas - Kevin (the Sturdy Kid) why don't you introduce me to your friends?
Kevin - Sure, Tomas , allow me to present  Max and Jordan and Liam. His name's really William, but in Scotland and Ireland that can be Liam. He likes that, so he changed it. But it's really still William.
Liam shrugs.
Each nods and says 'hi' or 'how you doin'?'  as they shake hands all around. 
Kevin - And, uh,' gentleman,' this is Tomas de Macabea, also known as Jonathon ben Macabi. Noble life-eater, originally from Al-Andaluz. But he's, uh, lived a lot of places since then and in case you don't know, 'life-eater' means vampire... Sorry, Tomas...
Tomas - That's alright. (fidgets) You think the proprietor has any aroma candles? I could use a good sour apple. 
Kevin - I don't know. Wait a second. (yells 'off camera') Yo, Bert! You got any aroma candles?!
Bert - (off camera) Go to hell. I got a can a Glade in the toilet. Does he want that? 
Tomas - No. That's alright.
Bert - (off camera) I can give him some lemon wedges?
But no one answers... They quietly sip their hot beverages.
Skinny Kid (Rob) - You know, Donald Trump once threw up in this booth. I don't know where he was sitting, but he did.
Tomas - Yeah, and I can still smell it. (mumbles) I wish he had that aroma candle.... They he reaches into one of his trademark black leather jackets and takes out a little vial.
Max - What's that?
Kevin - That's his blood.
Max - Yeah, right. F*ck you. Shut up. What is it?
Tomas - My blood. It's a vial of my blood.
Max - That's some free perfume sample shit. My mom has them in her bathroom. No 'blood.'
Kevin - It's blood. And I already drank some last night. Rob too.
Rob - Yep.
Max - You mean Enrique Iglesias over there is really a vampire? (to Tomas) Sorry, dude, but what can I say? 
Kevin - What do you think we're doing here?
Tomas - Do you want to see some proof? 
Max just looks and inches back in his seat..... Tomas reaches out over the table, sublimates his hand down through the wood and feels 'round till he finds something. Then he pulls it out with a big wad of chewing gum in his fingers. The three new comers don't say a word.
Kevin - Yo, Liam, you wanna pass organic chem? (Liam just looks) Drink the blood.
Tomas opens the vial and shakes a drop or two into their mugs. The new comers stare at the contents.
Kevin - (gestures toward the mugs) Drink.
They do, a bit reluctantly, but they do. Tomas looks relieved. Then everybody giggles.
Tomas - (Voice Over) And in that way my dream took shape.... Hey, it's a beginning... 


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Saturday, December 28, 2013

Amazing Voice Sings Nessun Dorma On X-Factor..NESSUN DORMA means 'no one is sleeping' and is an unofficial VAMPIRE ANTHEM..plus Tomas tells the college kids his plans.. 12/29/13

They sat there for a while just looking at the fire. No other lights were on. Tomas likes it that way. The skinny kid said - You got any chips or peanuts?... But no one answered.  Edith brought in another bottle, some more of that hard cider. This was 'hard cider week.' You know how the vampires latch onto things. Sturdy kid says - Who's she? Your mother?..... Skinny kid gets a fit of laughing. Tomas just gives him a look. Skinny kid clears his throat and stops.

Tomas says - Am I the first, shall we say 'special' being you've ever come across? ..... Sturdy kid says - No, Eric from Pittsburgh can light his farts. does that count?.... This time Tomas laughs and says - No, that doesn't count.  I just thought some of your friends might like to meet me..... Sturdy kid goes - Are, are you gonna kill them?..... Tomas quietly says - No.... Sturdy kid says - I didn't mean that 'who's she? your mother' crap. Just nervous. You know..... Tomas nods. Then he goes - Do they believe in vampires? Your friends, I mean. The young people at the university...... Skinny kid looks at his buddy. Buddy goes - They believe in aliens. They believe like in chupacabras and stuff. They believe in Bigfoot. I don't know. Guys don't believe in vampires. Chicks do. I don't know...... Tomas says - Well what do you think?...... Skinny kid, who don't talk much goes - I think we're drunk..... Sturdy kid says - Look, dude, maybe you're like a hypnotist. What the f*ck do I know?

With that Tomas leaps from his chair, grabs the Sturdy kid's hand, pulls it toward his mouth and chomps off a pinky finger.... Kid goes - aaaggghhh! SHIT!!! F*CK!!!.... Skinny kid stares, slack jawed and wide eyed....... Then our vampire pulls the digit out of his mouth, bites his tongue, draws blood, licks the oozing end, grabs the kid's hand (from where he held it cradled tight against his chest) and jams that pasty, bloodless sucker back where it came from....... And it 'sticks.' And it's positioned right...... Sturdy kid goes - It burns! It burns! It burns!..... Tomas sucks his own (now blood covered) finger, pulls it out and slowly wipes the dripping tip over the rapidly healing wound..... Kid calms down. Stops wheezing. Studies his mutilated hand.... only now it's not mutilated anymore..... Tomas goes - Edith!..... The witchy-woman friend and housekeeper bustles in from the kitchen, turns on a lamp and offers the kid a plastic canister of baby-wipes. He takes one and gingerly cleans the wound... but there IS no wound. He flexes his fingers, grins, nods and laughs... All is well..... Skinny kid goes - Yo, dude, you got blood stains on your crotch....... Sturdy kid kicks him and goes - Shut up!

Tomas (standing by the fire) says - Please excuse my thoughtless act of wild indiscretion, but I needed your attention. So let me ask you once again. Do YOU believe in vampires? ..... The Sturdy kid nods....... Tomas gestures toward the other one and goes - What about 'Silent Bob?' ..... Skinny kid nods too....... Tomas says - Now I want to meet some of your friends. You think you could arrange it?

More nodding.....

Tomas smiles......

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The Vampire Known as Tomas Shares Some Other Strange Experiences... 12/28/13

Don't ask me who I killed. Don't ever do that. It doesn't concern you, so don't. You're here because things are 'slow' this time of year. The long, seemingly endless nights calm us down. The cold has something to do with that too. Room for everyone and time enough for everything.  No one feels constrained. So unlike the manic nights of summer. Do you know in June and July there's just eight hours of true darkness. And solitary mortals are hard to come by. They travel in packs then, screaming on street corners for the boys to come and catch them. Well sometimes they have to contend with me. And stop staring that way. You know I don't kill indiscriminately. My food deserves to be cooked. 

And then Tomas shut up, studying the hefty tumbler in his hand. He poured in the hard cider and drank it down before offering some to his guests. Students, I think they were. Film students fro Penn. He met them at a showing... some new gallery on North Second Street. They come for the cheese mostly. You know how students are. The wine too, but cheese can make a meal.

Did they know he was a vampire? No. One thought he was the eldest Jonas brother, if you want to know the truth. Creative types always seek 'contacts.' Relationship is everything in the arts. So they chatted him up and began to ask questions. But when it became obvious he had no idea who Scooter Braun was that Jonas pedigree flew out the window. And when the last of the Colby-Jack was gone they left. Ersatz Dali by way of Grant Wood wasn't cutting it. 

Tomas followed them, eager to get away from these art world 'looky-loos.' Place smelled from new, wool sweaters, probably Christmas presents and semi-controlled mice. Amateur rodent hunters can only do so much. But he fell in behind them, making his way along the rough, cracked sidewalks of Old City (an 'entry-level' smart district, north of Society Hill). After a bit they ducked into a pretentious men's clothing store. Three hundred dollar jeans and all that. Bamboo hardwood floors. Although bamboo isn't really a hardwood, but that's what they say. The skinny one tried to palm a bill fold, not from someone's pocket (they did have standards after all) a new one for sale on a polished, wood table. Six hundred and seventy dollars, in case you're interested The sturdy one kept watch. Couldn't steal like this from the big stores. Too many safeguards for that. Tiny, little cameras all over the place. Underpaid, judgmental, wage slaves. Little pin lights highlighting perfectly folded trousers. Who buys dress pants like that anymore? Where would they wear them? Well, apparently some people knew where. But that's another story. One of the owners saw the whole thing and moved in for the kill. Obviously loves moments like this. Crushing other people's lives makes up for so much. And the kid never saw it coming. 

Excuse me. What the hell do you think you're doing!? - barked the shopkeeper. And the kid almost died. The place wasn't that crowded, but a couple people did turn around. Before things could escalate, Tomas stepped up, plutonium card, or whatever they call it, in hand, flashed in before the partner and said - No, no, no, he's just passing it over to me. I want to buy it. Christmas present for myself actually.... Just like that. A switch was thrown and the owner beamed. Five minutes later the sale was made and the three of them were out on the street. Skinny kid sniffs and goes - Yo, thanks, dude. Why'd you do it?..... Sturdy kid goes - Yeah, why'd you do it?.... Tomas says - I did it 'cause I hate that guy.... Sturdy kid goes - You spent about seven hundred and thirty f*ckin' dollars, including tax, in that guy's God damned store because you hate him? Yo, dude, what do you do?..... Tomas thought for a moment, considered lying. When pressed, he usually says - I'm an investor... But these were college kids. Nothing shocks them. So he did it. He told them. He goes - I'm in vampirism. Self-employed. How do you do.... They trade names and shake hands. Sturdy kid (the talker) goes - Vampirism? What, there's a lot a money in that?..... And Tomas goes - Oh, if you only knew. Care for a drink?... But before they could even answer he hailed a cab and fifteen heartbeats later they were on their way.

He tells 'em a real good story about an old torture involving ferrets, or polecats or something and guys wearing white silk, pajama-like suits with tight necks, wrists and ankles. No underwear, or any protective garment next to the skin. Ain't allowed to do that. And it's gotta be white, 'cause white shows the blood. Stuff a couple a them hungry, sharp-toothed weasel things down the front a the pants. Button everything up real snug and tight and let her rip. First one to scream gets baked alive. And everybody watches, as they tremble, sweat and bleed.

Sturdy kid says - Did you just hear about that, or actually see it?..... Tomas goes - Saw it. Made a lot of money on it too..... How? - said the skinny kid.... Sturdy one goes - Jesus Christ! They bet! They bet on it. Can't you figure it out?!...... Tomas goes - Hey, I ain't proud.

And then he tells them more.....

Now Edith put a couple drops of Tomas' blood in their drinks. She's got a little dropper from some old bottle of over-the-counter earache medicine. That's what she uses. It works. Who needs 'fancy?'

But that I'll tell you tomorrow night...


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Thursday, December 26, 2013

The Vampire, Tomas, Speaks Directly To You..... 12/26/13

When bad things happen it's foolish to wish they had not. Better to face the new reality and bend it to your will. It took me time to learn that. During the early years of my transformation I wandered aimlessly. Oh, I was aware of my surroundings. I knew where I was. But things transpired in and of themselves. I was but a passenger... not even an onlooker... just a passenger... barely able to recognize my own form in a mirror. Though there were few of them, back then. The era of my second birth was cold and coarse and hard. 

I established a war chest in short order, dispatching self-proud feudal lords and confiscating baubles and gold. Not many diamonds back then. For the most part, they didn't appear in 'Christendom' til returning Crusaders brought them back from the Levant. And even there they were not native, but the fruit of long established trade with Hind (what you call 'India'). My stash included rubies, emeralds, opals, pearls and gold. Silver too, but mostly gold. 

This was before I could easily sublimate through walls and other barriers. But I did have 'vampire eyes' from the beginning and to me, anyway, beguiling bewildered mortals was natural and automatic. I adopted the dress of a Christian scholar... a noble son traveling between Catalonia or Provence and the university-like academies of La Serenissima (Venice). Not too difficult for a rather aristocratic Rite-Of-Spain (Sephardic) Hebrew, like myself. Please know that we did not dress any different than others of our class. And I already knew assorted chunks of Greek and Latin in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic, plus the local vernaculars of Northern Spain. I had a Hebrew Bible and a copy of the Trinitarian Holy Books. I think there was a Trinitarian prayer book too. During the dark months of the year I even attended vespers. Not on a daily basis, but often enough in various locales to make my presence known. 'Tomas de Macabea'... They knew my name. I traveled with at least three men-at-arms. The term 'familiar' was unknown to me then, but that is what they were, subverted by tiny droplets of my magical blood. I hid caches of valuables off in the woods in places even outlaws avoided, near haunted springs, or mysterious caverns. Were they haunted? Occasionally. Though what am I but a ghost still dressed in flesh?

Please know that I could, at times, when frightened, manage to sublimate through barriers and walls. But I could not pass through  air. I could not fly. Travel was difficult, limited to the distance a horse could traverse by night. Were there outlaws abroad then? Of course. We were waylaid many times, but I fed on them, turning some into meals and others into servants.

Then, one night while passing through new environs, a thickly wooded track near the sea, I dozed at the reins and tumbled off a cliff. In a heartbeat, the poor horse went one way and I another, streaking into the heavens like an arrow. Thus did I acquire the power of flight. Not true flight. Not what the elferinos and elferinas do, but something very much like it. I did not float on the air, but climbed through it, one molecule at a time, though in a very rapid fashion. And my life, or what I called life, was forever changed.

In the space of a few hours I passed between polities and heard new songs, each in a different tongue. One night Genoa, another Marseilles, Some nights spent among the nobles of Barcelona, or the citrus groves of Aragon. And I picked up phrases from each place, as did other night-folk. We conversed. We wrote things down and a new language appeared... a Latin tongue binding the northwestern Mediterranean world from Rome to Cadiz. 'Vahmperigo' we called it... 'in the manner of the vampires.' According to the accent it might sound like Spanish, or Catalan, or French, or Italian, or a melange of all four. Some higher Catholic clergy knew it too. Captured vampires made rich trophies. And many a prelate kept one in a leaden, cellar crypt.. For lead confounds us and we cannot sublimate through it. 

Now we've traveled this road before. But many of you are new and I thought that you should know.

What did I wear? I can hear you thinking. You want to know how I looked, so I'll tell you. Next to my body came a cloth, passing o're my crotch and held in place  by a braided, linen cord. Over that went a light, long-sleeved, unbleached tunic that fell almost to the knee. Tightly knit, thigh-high stockings, held up by buttoned garters and fine, pointy-toed, leather bootkins clothed my legs and feet. There was an outer garment, another tunic fashioned from a more colorful cloth of more substance, bound 'round the waist by a sash. My cloaks had hoods. I wore soft, leather gauntlets and sometimes during chilly months, woolen scarves and thick, knit tunics worn inside, toward the skin. My hair was long and wavy, in the Mediterranean fashion, though some knights, in anticipation of The Crusades had begun to crop theirs close to the skull. I had knit hats too, essentially the same as what boys still wear now.

Besides my mount and lesser breeds for the men-at-arms, we had two pack animals. Asses they were.... 

And my 'vampire eyes' always got me a snug, dark place to sleep.

Now that's it. Good night. It's time for me to kill ...


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Wednesday, December 25, 2013

SOMETIMES VAMPIRES GET TALKATIVE .. the wee hours of Christmas...... 12/25/13

Sometimes when they feel threatened vampires retreat. They stay close to home, peering through the draperies and sipping fine distillations by the fire. Tomas is no different. And when he stays home, they all do. Sarah watched a cooking show about recipes she'll never make. Conrad and Leo gambled on line, playing hand after hand of joker-poker. A 'familiar' set it all up for them. But the market's been good and the night-folk have plenty. So a thousand dollars every fortnight or so isn't too bad.  Besides, the 'boys' really enjoy it. Don't ask me where the elferinos and elferinas are. They're so quiet and discrete. Sarah thinks they look like Kate Moss, but with ever so slightly pointier ears. The males not so Kate Mossy.... maybe like Sebastian Bach. God knows where they are.

Edith made a big pot of pasta. Rigatoni, I think. She tosses it with some kind of soft, crumbly cheese and a little bit of cream. Then she chills it. It's good. She eats it. I eat it. Them four Kate Moss' will eat it too. Look, when I say 'eat' I mean taste. They're vampires, after all. They throw it up, five minutes later (hopefully in the little powder room down the hall) and then, soon after, taste a little more. You know how the Romans were with their tricliniums (dining rooms) and vomitoriums? Well, vampires are a lot like classical Romans too. 

They like the starchy aroma. The vampires, I mean. But only the younger, 'pubescent' ones actually taste the stuff. The night-gift settles differently on them. They can do things like that. And I know Tomas envies the way they fly. You see, he 'sublimates' through the air. Moves through the actual molecules like a knife through butter. Looks like he disappears and reappears someplace else. Sometimes you see a streak, but not always. Elferinos and elferinas, on the other hand, truly fly. They float on the air and dance through it like bubbles in champagne. And they're vain about it too. Believe me. They know how cool it looks.

Tomas calls me over. He wants to talk. I sit in one of the club chairs. It's warm. The lights are low and I love the way the apple wood fire smells. Edith watches a midnight mass in the kitchen. It's Christmas Eve in the old, red brick warrens of Philadelphia.

I met Charles Dickens, you know. Went with him when he toured Eastern state Penitentiary - he says. Called it a 'strange menagerie.' They let him peek inside the cells. More an assemblage of hopeless dungeons they were.  That's where the expression 'lock the door and throw away the key' came from. He didn't know I was a vampire. He didn't even know I was a Jew. You know how he wrote 'Fagin'? I didn't want to get into all that. Some mortals love their hatreds more than they love life.... It defines them. They were crazy, you know. The penitents, I mean. Locked away in dark, tiny cells all alone. They didn't have open bars. They had doors... stout, heavy, black, iron doors...... Then he just stopped passed me the bottle. Grey Goose. Always Grey Goose. I think a connection with the state liquor stores sends it over to him. Edith bustled in from the kitchen. Brought me a little glass. You know she's a witchy-woman.  Telepathy's like the first thing they teach 'em.

I think he feels locked in too. Edith says he wanted to be a saint. When he was mortal, I mean. Used to read books about it. 'Into every generation of men thirty six blameless souls are given.'..... And those old, devout, Spanish Jewish families really believed that. 

I'll tell you what he's gonna do. It's still dark for a few hours. He has time. He'll get up, put on his coat and his gloves and his scarf and all. Got this wool hat he pulls down too. Then he'll stuff his pockets with silver dollars...real silver dollars. Go out. Walk the streets and give them to homeless people. That's his 'thing.' He does it for almost every holiday. Then he'll go sit on a bench in Washington Square Park, talk to the ghosts for a few minutes  and come home.

I feel bad for Tomas. I really do.

You know, Charles Dickens had a pet raven named Grip. Been mostly dead for a hundred and sixty years. Main Library in Center City's got it on display... all stuffed and mounted and all. Sits in the rare book room. Still looks like it wants a peck your eyes out. Apparently, death don't mellow ravens. 

This is Billy. I'm tired. I gotta go to sleep. 

May the Season of Miracles be magical for you and yours.
That's all I got to tell you tonight. I don't make it up. I just write what happens.


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Tuesday, December 24, 2013


The TV was on. Hoda and Kathy-Lee, a late night re-broadcast, but they didn't pay any attention. Sometimes Edith watches in the morning when the vampires are sleeping, or reading, or mushing up with each other, or whatever they do during the day. But ever since that 'Kathy' one named her dog 'Bambino' she don't like it so much. not that there's anything wrong with the word 'bambino' or the nice, little dog, but it's just like a misstep. It doesn't 'go.' It doesn't sound real. 

They sat around the big, granite thing in the middle. Conrad says it's a 'breakfast' bar. Tomas goes - un huh... and gives him a look. Leo studies a Victoria's Secret catalog. He asks - If a witch, like  sewed , chopped-off, big swan wings on a real fashion model and did magic so there wasn't any infection or anything, do you think it would work?... They don't answer him. He always says shit like that. They never answer him. Baylah's not there. She went back down the shore for The Holidays with her rich boyfriend. 

Look, they're all in denial. Last night really rattled them. Tomas goes. He's seen it before. So has Sarah. The elferinos and elferinas probably too. But night-folk aren't even sure why they're here. Yeah, they talk. I know.  They're 'demi-angelic,' or an alien force did it, or humanity has 'castes' like an ant hill and it's just their job. Yet the truth is they don't know. And when confronted by even greater 'magic,' or 'power,' or whatever you want to call it they get scared. Look how quiet they were when they went to London last year... to that Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn house. Remember that? (google Vampirewonderland Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn if you don't). Christ! Friggin' Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome was walkin' around, in a suit yet. 

No, they're in denial. Watch, you'll see. He'll get real religious. Tomas, I mean. He'll go in that little room. The 'chapel' he calls it. I think it was a walk-in closet or storage room originally. But now it's a 'chapel.' They don't even look at me. I'm just sitting here at the desk typing it all up. It's me. It's 'Billy.' But you knew that. You know my 'voice.'

Quiet, shhh, he's telling a story. If I make any mistakes typing this up, don't blame me. You can still read it. It ain't gonna ruin it. Please. I can't talk. I gotta pay attention......

Tomas, also known as Jonathon says - We were in a tower, or a castle, in Switzerland, or France. And he wasn't a vampire. I don't know what he was. But he never spoke. Never said a word. Nothing. Yet I heard him in my mind. I didn't just know the words. I heard them. And sometimes he'd keep his eyes closed all night and walk around like he could see right through the lids. One eyelid had a skull tattooed on it. The other had a cockroach. And his fingernails were stained black. I think it was a stain. It wasn't paint, or polish, or anything like that. The color seemed to come out from the nails themselves. He wore a blue robe, like a worn, dirty magician's robe. You know what it was made of? Human skin... The blue color came from when it was still alive. It was tattooed on... all over... dark blue. That, in itself, must have killed the poor bastards, because skin has to breath and tattooing kills sweat glands. But I'm just guessing. Could be they were flensed alive. That was a 'fad' in the middle ages... Boy, was it ever. Doors used to open and close as he passed. Big doors... oak doors. Torches, you know, the kind in those wrought iron holders, used to burn when he passed by too. Everyplace else was dark. Nameless, little entities scurried through the blackness. They tickled. They laughed. They teased. And when his robe fell open, which it often did, I could see a tiny, sallow,  doughy looking, paunchy greasy man, all bent up in a fetal position, hanging from a nipple by his teeth. Not nursing. Just hanging. Dark eyes. Round, dark eyes. Always looking. Always staring. And once, when I was close enough to get a good look (you know there wasn't much light in there to begin with) I could see..... Flies' eyes they were. Bugs' eyes he had.

One night, the man who never spoke, or opened his eyes led me into a little room... a round, stone chamber with four slit windows at the four compass points... It was cold. I can tell you that. The wind whistled through those openings. But he didn't care. I guess he was immune to the chill too.

There was a rough, wooden table in the middle of the space with a sputtering, fat candle on it. Sometimes the draft blew it out, but the flame came back within seconds. I think the man did it... With his power, I mean. And next to the candle was a small, rectangular, metal box made of zinc, or pewter, or something like that. He, the silent man, opened his robe and carefully removed  the disgusting stowaway from his teat.  I could hear it mew like a cat, as it made faces and balled up its little fists. Like a hedgehog it was. No bigger. And he laid it in the cold metal box. How it trembled and cried, but the strange magician held it down with his thumb and forefinger. Then he sighed. That's all he did... one exhalation. A moment later, something very much like spontaneous generation happened, for a swarming mass of tiny, dark red, seed-like beetles spilled out from the rough sides and bottom of the crude trough, covering the unfortunate, flabby thing, as if in living beans that bit into its flesh. How it cried like a little baby, til they clogged the mouth and stopped it.

I couldn't turn away. I wanted to, but I couldn't. The 'magician' still had his fingers in that mess, though they didn't bite him. Sometimes a pathetic, little hand would reach up from the seething insects, only to quickly vanish once again. And perhaps one hundred heartbeats later it was over. The horrid, little beasties disappeared back into wherever it was they came from, revealing a tiny, contorted skeleton. Minute shreds of flesh and gristle stuck to the joints and even the crystalline bug eyes were gone.

Then the strange magician raised his hand and licked the few remaining bugs from his fingers.

The next night plague came to the mountains... and half the people died....

                                            +     +     +

On the little, kitchen TV screen, Hoda and Kathy-Lee laughed like drunken college girls, but none of the night-folk joined in...


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Sunday, December 22, 2013

DER KRAMPUS MANN...... (google it)...... 12/22/13

Sometimes people disappear... and no one takes credit.  It's like a big, old, celestial trolley car goes 'clang-clang-clang' jams on them breaks and snatches them up. Ain't no body. Ain't no chipped finger nail or ripped-out piece a hair. No eyeball. No nothin'. They just gone. 

A lot of times it's night-folks, vampires, who do that. Occasionally a little part of the corpse might 'survive.' ... Might be a baby toe in some grease, or the outer rim of an ear. Looks like that 'very rare' phenomenon known as spontaneous human combustion. But if you been with us a while... you know.... Ain't no such thing as spontaneous human combustion. If there was, why don't we see it all the time? Why ain't dead dogs and cats and pigeons and rats lightin' up too? They got the same chemicals as us and a dead dog can weigh the same as a dead human. That 'combustion' crap just a story cops made up, vampires too, to fool folks. 'Cause Jack Nicholson was right. You CAN'T handle the truth... Well, you can, 'cause you're reading this, but lots a people can't. That's what saves vampires, other 'strange folk' too. They're like aliens and Santa Claus. Either you do, or you don't. OK, OK, OK, maybe aliens a little more real than that, but you know what I mean. Look, government KNOWS aliens are real, even without the evidence, mathematically they have to be. Yet some people feel threatened by that and believe, or pretend to believe otherwise. Just feels better that way. 'Reality' goes on.

Look, who'd believe what went on last night? Some folks might have legends about stuff like that.... scary stories from 'the old country.' But, you know, gorillas and orangutans were legends too, 'fore they found them out.

And I don't even know if it happened on top a the Comcast Building, 'cause they don't got the roof for it. Got like a pyramid, a pinnacle, up there and how people gonna stand on that? They'd all slide down and go splat! Probably went off somewhere else and just said that to fool us. But the thing is, it DID happen on some other tall redoubt out there. Why not? This city full a magic since the beginning... Here's an everyday example all of 'em know about. That Comcast Building do got somethin' funny on top. Got a little, bronze statue of William Penn. Think it's like about eighteen inches tall and just like that big, forty foot, artificial, flagpole sitter they got balancin' hisself on top a City Hall (you know, high above the spot where the gallows used to be). Had an unwritten law around here. No buildin' taller than 'Billy' Penn's hat. From eighteen seventy six to nineteen seventy six that was it. Six hundred feet (includin' the statue)... Plenty a room. But then business people start gettin' 'uppity.' They strart goin' higher. Folks get nervous. Fire start, or team lose they whisper.... 'Billy Penn's Curse... He don't like it... The Lord Protector wants his due.'... Few years back, big building goes up, a 'top ten tallest' in United States... Comcast Building.... You know, '30 Roc' ain't the jewel in the crown. THIS is. This where all the money sits. Little statue sits there too.... right on top... bolted down an' everything.... Billy Penn got a hat... and it the tallest thing around. But we meanderin' a bit. Lemme get back to the weirdness at hand.....

Last night was 'Dark Night,' the longest stretch of blackness in the year.... clear and strangely warm too. Wiccans held 'skraelings.' Godly folk stay inside.... 'Jump in bed and cover up your head, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight.'..... Well, maybe not Santa Claus, and maybe not tonight, but somebody else does. If you got like a great-grandmother, or better yet a great-great grandmother what came from where folks wear little suede shorts and eat bratwurst an' all, you know.

Der Krampus Mann ist Kommen... a shadowy, rustic, stunted being from the forest.. a Rumpelstiltskin, but for real. Strong, he is. Enduring... When the natives jettisoned Polytheism for what they claim to follow now, he remained. To avoid the terror they bound him to Santa Claus... a runty, little helper who punished wicked children by chopping them up, entombing them alive, or spiriting them to hell. Happy Holidays, y'all. 

Now vampires recognize the spirit world. Most of them retain some form of their mortal faith, but they know other things too. Certain rites must be observed and Winter Solstice is one of them. So they gathered on a roof top, high above the city, to play it out. Tomas was there with his consort, Sarah. Leo and Conrad, the two stepbrother vampires stood close by. Baylah, our Beyonce look-alike, attended with her rich, mortal, financier boyfriend. The elferinos and elferinas watched expectantly from the background. I'm told I can tell you 'Papa' was there. He did not manifest in a physical form, but he was there. Lesser known night-folk, such as Blackie and Minnie were there too. Some vampires brought mortal guests... well liked 'familiars' and all that. And a really very good jazz quintet played Dave Brubeck's 'Take five' in the corner. Tuxedo'ed waiters circulated with little trays of chilled vodkas. I think there were other savories for the mortals, but I'm not sure what they were. A discrete, unnamed vampire or two hovered on the periphery. Just another smart, little soiree during 'The Season,' though one of the guests had yet to arrive....

A mortal, some sort of 'familiar' and his self-conscious wife came over to chat... Hello - he said. Quite a view from up here... The wife grinned and nodded. But she looked right at the mouth. That's a sign. Not used to vampires. Wants to see the teeth. Maybe afraid to see the teeth. Tomas understood. He knew, so he didn't expose them.... Yes - he answered. Obviously, we can see Jersey, over there, quite easily. And off to the west, those far, little twinkling lights in the distance form part of The Main Line.... Then he introduced them to Sarah. She's always gracious. The mortal woman complimented her diamond drop. Sarah responded with niceties about the woman's clutch. Vampires know how to act. Quite a civilized evening. Eleven thirty it was. The 'best' was yet to come.

Winter Solstice is one of the few nights of the year when midnight, twelve o'clock, falls precisely when it should... seven hours from dusk and seven hours from false dawn. And when the huge, illuminated, pale yellow, clock face high atop the tower of City Hall began to strike, they heard him. One or two brave souls looked over the balustrade, but most pulled back. A gnarled, little man, quite stricken in years ascended the facade like a fly. No ropes. No hooks. No aids. Just his fingers. Just his toes. A dense, full, wiry beard covered his body, or at least the front of it. And a similar thatch falling from his head almost did the same to his back. A few pigeons fluttered 'round him. But closer inspection revealed them to be large, bug-eyed moths. Was he visible to others around the city? Who knew? Magic is as magic does. On the twelfth stroke he pulled himself up over the top. Conversation ceased. The jazz group fell silent, except for the drummer who continued to lightly brush one cymbal, providing a troubling pulse to the proceedings. The old man studied the people. Everyone froze under the black, hard, knowing gaze.... He hobbled closer, sniffing as he went. Each inspected intimately... the mouth... the heart... the groin... never touching the person, or the fabric of their dress, but smelling and evaluating just the same. Some chanced a look, taking in the mottled flesh and swollen knuckles. But der krampus mann guards his dignity and suffers not such affronts. One man, a mortal guest, lost his eyes, gouged out by the dirty nails of the strange visitor. Tomas hated this thing. His faith is real. But every year, and he'd be hard pressed to tell you why, he takes part. Sarah and most of the others just closed their eyes and endured, kissed by the fluttering wings of the huge moths.

A waiter dropped a tray. He almost died right then and there. But der krampus just looked. His prey was elsewhere. Three heartbeats later he grabbed the woman before him 'round her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. She screamed. Her husband yelled - NO!... But Baylah hugged him close and pulled him back, as the loathsome monster spat out something in a gutteral tongue, jumped up into the midnight sky and sped away, disappearing high among the stars. And all that was left of the woman was her shoes.

No one moved, til the combo started to play. Tomas quietly whispered the prayer for the dead. And Marianne, one of the pubescent vampire 'elferinas' ministered to the trembling, newly blind man with tiny droplets of her blood. Let's hope his eyes grow back.

You think everyone would have streamed out right then and there, but they didn't. All I know is they downed a lot of vodka, even the night-folk. Some sat still on little chairs and stared. There was a lot of that.

And when the other waiter came out with a tray filled with piping hot 'pigs in the blankets.' they disappeared real fast too.


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Saturday, December 21, 2013

Woodland String Band Mummers 2012 If you've never seen a Philadelphia New Years Day MUMMERS PARADE, here's a good peek. Ties in to Tomorrow's WINTER SOLSTICE, VAMPIRE TALE

The parade lasts all day. Early morning hours are given to hordes of clowns, female impersonators and what we in Philadelphia call 'king jockeys.' It's an old tradition going back to B.P. (before Penn) times. Swedish and Dutch settlers celebrated the sun's return with outlandish costumes and street to street parades. Everybody got drunk and shot off their muskets, thus for centuries New Year's revelers were called New Year's 'Shooters.' It's only recently they stopped shooting guns off, 'cause what goes up must come down and a few people got their skulls accidentally ventilated. Large scale neighborhood parades date to late colonial times, finally becoming formalized in 1901.

Today, the twin jewels in the crown are the STRING BANDS and the FANCY DIVISIONS. They're like New Orleans Mardi Gras crews.  Membership is a familial affair going back generations and the music is based on old minstrel shows. Most string bands and fancy divisions (brass instruments allowed) bring in professional stagers from the legitimate theater. Prizes are awarded (largely token amounts) but bragging rights are the big thing. Each individual member spends thousands of dollars a year.

Until a generation or two ago all parts were filled by men or boys. "Females' were called 'wenches' and non-white participants were practically non existent. Such practices, thankfully, disappeared in the sixties and seventies.

If you're in the city over New Years, hordes of people DO get up early and go 'in town' to see the festivities. Bleacher seats, near judges' stand are available for a price, but most spectators stake out spots along the route (Broad Street/Avenue of The Arts) and dance along with the passing performers. Oh Dem Golden Slippers is the anthem. It's like an 'ethnic' Philadelphia song played at ALL local weddings, every group, every price point. And we all dance the 'Mummers' Strut' (a cake walk)  too. Think Philadelphia tarantella or hora. 

If I didn't already say so, the string bands start appearing about one o'clock, maybe later and continue passed dark. Fancy divisions (even MORE elaborate) perform in an adjacent convention facility. Shows are 12PM and 5PM. 

String bands are a big part of local culture throughout the Philadelphia/South Jersey area and perform at Atlantic City's Miss America Parade too.

Decent food trucks will be scattered along the route and there're plenty of hotels to duck into for pee-pee breaks, restaurants too. 

For more information google The Philadelphia Mummers Museum. A unique event and very much like what you'd find in Europe. If you've been to Belgium or France or Germany, you know.

The hot, fresh, salty, soft pretzels sold along the route are good too.

Oh, and if you want a taste of the macabre (this IS Vampire Wonderland, after all) duck into the Philadelphia City Hall courtyard (exactly like a Flemish castle). Find the brass compass rose inlaid at the center ('X' marks the spot). It's where the public gallows used to be til 1876.... So many ghosts you'll be greasy with ectoplasm. You can't miss it... Right across the street from where they bands perform.

For more google The Philadelphia Convention and Visitors' Bureau.

Our main vampire, Tomas, wanted me to tell you all this, 'cause he's a proud Philadelphian. Vampires tend to be quite attached to their territories. It's true. If you want to learn about a city, ask the vampires.

Good night and may The Season of Miracles be bright for you and yours...... If you want to browse through our more than 1,360 posts, click on this~> I WANT TO BROWSE .... or join us on Twitter via ~>WHERE BILLY SITS ON TWITTER ... your COMMENTS are very welcome too. 

Now right below is the MUMMERS' video. I hope you like it.

Thursday, December 19, 2013


They've waited for this event since June twenty first. Indeed, in the past some ticked off nights on special calenders. No one knows who made them. Early examples were etched onto thin, translucent panels fashioned from a mixture of pulverized mother-of-pearl and liquefied Baltic amber. I do not know how the fossilized tree resin becomes fluid. According to passages in La Ciencia Vampirismo, steamy bile from the third stomachs of Hunnish Dragons has something to do with it, which is strange, since most noble (moral, high-minded, religious believer) vampires eschew sing-song spells and toy-like charms. Power is just power and trinkets have little to do with it. But artistry is something else. And vampires do appreciate beauty. 

The old words engraved upon the shimmering, milky surface are filled with gold dust ground from the skull caps of long dead saints. What they used back before the advent of today's organized faiths eludes me. Oh, Tomas believes in saints... with a 'most perfect faith,' as he says. Creed of Israel is big on that and always has been. Into each generation thirty six blameless souls are born and for their sake creation goes on. But the names of these most perfect vessels are known only to God. Even 'the select' don't know.

And Tomas has one of those panels, an old one made in Ityl or Sarkel at the court of The Khazar King, but don't ask me which one. They had Kagans and Bachs and War Dukes  and Horde Leaders and I can't keep up with that. It's older than he is, though, even counting the mortal years. Took it from a shattered night-fiend in Muscovy, he did. Just a bauble.... a cultural curiosity. No real spiritual meaning. Not to him anyway. It's hidden somewhere in the townhouse. A 'familiar'... an old one... a trusted one, in fact the very one charged with 'growing the fortune (investment counselor) says it's forth forty million. That's what the people at Sotheby's said, but he'll never sell it. 

You know, Australian Aboriginal night-folk mark 'Dark Night' too, but theirs, obviously falls on June  twenty first. The tilt of the planetary axis and all that. And in a way, that celestial event is our only pan-global holy day. Pagan types, among the mortals, I mean... druids... wiccans... Endorian witches ... have their own versions, though Vampire Dark Night is paramount. They all came out for this one, regardless which human creed they retain. Tomorrow night you'll see. And I know this 'blog' or whatever it is they call it has been warping and weaving for more than two years. We could have told you earlier, but we did not. To everything there is a season and patience is its own reward.... do-dah... do-dah.

They have a place. It's outdoors... always outdoors... where they all go... Past wrongs are forgotten... Hatreds denied.  I think in the city it happens on a rooftop. Oh, not a low one... nothing ordinary... High up... Very high up. What's that building? The one with all the lights out front.... The one that commandeered television?... The Comcast Building! That's it! The Comcast Building.... That's the place. That's where they'll be.... All of them... Might even be one or two you've never met before.

A few mortals will be there too. Not in any official capacity. But they're rich and they're curious and they want to be there, so we let them. If he's 'around' I'm sure 'Papa' will go. Might not talk, or interact with anybody, but he'll be there. If no one introduces you to him (and they won't), look for a guy that resembles a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere.... Slightly longer hair though.... Is he powerful?..... Oh, yeah.

But if you're mortal and if you're there, please try to give off as little scent as possible.  I mean natural scent.  I mean YOUR scent.  I mean 'human' scent...

Because on 'Dark Night,' you never know which way this thing is gonna go...

Forgive me if I've rambled. But I died last year at this time... 

And the memory is still quite fresh...


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Wednesday, December 18, 2013


They all sat in a little room upstairs. I suppose it was meant to be a bedroom or a sleeping cubicle, but for some reason they weren't using it for that. Now it was a snug, cozy study with a thick 'Turkey' rug on the dark wood floor, shelves filled with books, an old library table (not a big one, a small one), wing-chairs covered in a subtle English upholstery and little lamps and pin-up lights which shed a low warm glow on the vampiric souls assembled there.

Tomas, also known as Jonathon, sat at the head. Sarah, Leo, Conrad, Baylah and the elfin types took seats around the room. For a while they were all quiet. Just sitting. Just waiting, as he slipped the ancient tome from an old, velvet cover and reverently put it down on the table.

How old is it? - whispered Sarah..... Well - he said - as far as I know this one comes from Frankish territory, where it belonged to Charlemagne's court vampire. But the contents were copied from even older scrolls and folios. Some go back to the Persians. A few stem from the Great Library of Alexandria and certain pages survived the second Roman defilement of Jerusalem about eighteen hundred and fifty years ago....... Wow - said- Leo. You know what that would get on Ebay?..... But Tomas just gave him a look..... Baylah said - We had books like that in Timbuctu. I never saw them. I was not a vampirina then and females never saw them anyway. One came from Abyssina. Melenik's Journal, they called it. But I don't think it came from him...... Who was he? - said Conrad...... King Solomon's son by way of the Queen of Sheba - whispered Tomas..... Yeah, I saw the movie - said Leo..... That's when Tomas lost it and went - SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Will you just SHUT UP!?....Leo did shut up... for a few heartbeats. Then he goes - That looks like a Harry Potter book, like a Hogwarts prop. Bet they made it in Taiwan..... With that, Tomas picks up the book and holds it out before him, like Moses with The Tablets and Leo's mouth disappears from off his face... No lips.... No slit... No nothing... Just skin, a nose and two real terrified eyes..... You can hear the desperate groans beneath the flesh..... Tomas goes - Please don't make me mad..... Everybody just sits there. No one says a word... Celeste, the quiet elferina starts to cry. Conrad erupts into nervous laughter. Sarah whispers - Do something... Tomas exhales, opens the book to a certain page, holds it up again and says a few words in Old Vahmperigo.... At first, nothing happens. He exhales a second time and holds the book a little higher. Four heartbeats later, Leo's mouth begins to erode..... First a little slit, so small he can barely get the tip of his tongue through. Then it expands, running back toward the natural limits of what used to be his mouth. Finally the lips form. Celeste stops crying. Everybody relaxes, but Leo just sits there, staring at the table top.

Tomas puts the book down, turns to another page and continues. I'm paraphrasing - he says, as he studies the ancient script .... Night-folk were called to serve. Every temple. Every chapel. Every prayer house had a guardian. And we were those guardians. Guardian vampires, that's what we were. Gargoyles and other fantastical figures were created to help us. We scared away the gold thieves, protected the faithful and plucked out the wicked from the beard of all mankind. Kings sought our counsel. Priests learned our songs........ Then he stopped reading and said - We have to respect ourselves and value what we are. Not just some nights, but every night. That's how it begins. That's what we are. You saw the power this book has. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, but now you know.

The elferinos and elferinas stared wide-eyed, waiting for more. So did the true vampires. After all, power tastes good and everybody wants a bite.

But Tomas, also known as Jonathon, knew he had to go slow. so he closed the book and slipped it back into the velvet sack. 

Edith came up with a large, gold and diamond, flask-like container of Russo-Baltique. Imagine, over one million, three hundred thousand dollars for a bottle of vodka. But vampire coffers are deep... and some things are worth it. 

They all had a drink, even the elfin-folk. Some had two. And then the night was over...


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Tuesday, December 17, 2013


Before she left the townhouse, Sarah caught a bit of Jimmy Kimmel and she didn't like when Mark Wahlberg said he doesn't go to late mass, 'cause he sees too many people who try and give him scripts. Said he goes for scripture and not for scripts. But don't he realize some of them people just want the same chance he has? Don't he realize minus an 'in' they gonna die with them stories. Services ain't just about pretty music and feel good talkin'.  Brightening the corner where you are has something to do with it too. And thumbin' through a couple dreams ain't no big thing. Maybe he should go twice a day? Sarah didn't like how he give his kids bee-bee gun too. Don't say nothin' in no Bible 'bout bee-bee gunin' up you kids. I am the disembodied spirit narrator known as Mister Never you Mind and I am pretty sure 'bout that. 

She left after he done his talk-bout-my-movie time. Did save commercial part for the end though. So guess he was a little bit shamed. I jus' tellin' you what she say. Sarah gone kill somebody tonight. Had a vision an' everything. But she know how bad the guy what gone be killed is when she 'wake too.
She know from Masha and Mrs. Hudge. Masha like a cleaning woman. Comes in to help Edith once in a while. Edith a witch, but she can't make no rags dance. Need a old fashioned borned-in Europe-lady for that.

Masha take Mrs Hudge to the doctor. She gotta go there a lot. Masha go wit' her 'cause  Mrs. Hudge got taters in her ears. Don't know technical name for it, but that what she got. Plus her heart all f*cked up too. She get pills for that an' he take her blood every once in a while cause it part a the show. 

But Masha got this thing on her face. Live right on her cheek, next door to her nose. First it pink. Then it red. After that light brown. Later dark brown. Then it cancer. Then she die. An' that doc been lookin' at it for a long time. She sit there right in that room when he bleedin' scratch outta Mrs. Hudge. Got bright lights in there an' everything. He know Masha a poor woman. He know she ain't got no pay-the-doctor policy. He know all that, 'cause she talk all the time. But he jus' keep his mouth shut an' don't say nothin', 'cause ain't no money in his pocket.Could a saved her. Coulda said - Look here, Masha, why you not let clinic doctor take a look at that?.... But he don't. Mrs. Hudge cry when she die. She gettin' bad too.

Sarah gone get that doctor. She gone fix him. An' she know what in his head,'cause she good at that e.s.p.. Live close by too. Got a house what been wrote up in a magazine. Got a wife what a doctor too, but she a nice one. Don't double book or nothin'. Take what pay-the-doctor policy give her. Don't ask for more. Don't take no less, but don't take no more.

Sarah slip in the back garden. They got one jus' like vampires do.. Fella come an' fix it up. Got Chinese Cabbage in it now, 'cause it winter.  Dog what they got shit itself out there an' he keep it company. Sometime he pick it up. Sometime he leave it for the garden fella. 'I pay him money. Let him grab some shit.' That what he say... the doctor, I mean.

They got a little shed fill a patio furniture an' citronella candles. She hide in there. Sublimate right through the wall. Doc say - What you doin', dog? Shit already!.... But dog don't wanna', 'cause  it know a vampire in the house. An' Sarah don't wanna make no big thing outta this. She jus' wanna kill him. So she open the door and step out. Got her puffy down jacket on, 'cause this ain't nothin' fancy.

He got a whiny, high pitched voice an' he go - Excuse me! Can I help you!? Can I help you!? Who are you? How you get in here!?..... Dog look like it know somethin' unusual gonna happen. 'Cause, you know, dog like a see things. An' when Sarah go over an' bite his neck, pooch hide under chair and peek out.  Don't try to save him, though.  'Sides, it the wife dog anyway. Twenty one heartbeat later he dead. An' 'fore he spontaneously combust into blue flame an' disappear, she snap off his gold Rolex. Wanna give it to Masha's grandson. 

When she leave, dog run out an lick up the grease. Fire don't burn everythin'. Wife never find him. Nobody find him. Jus' another mystery in a old (though thoroughly renovated ) house, on a cobbled street in Philadelphia.

Took his ring for Mrs. Hudge too..... Best thing he ever done for her...


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No disembodied spirit narrator tonight. It's just me, wilkravitz. I started typing my name that way years ago when they made me start this, but by now you know I'm 'Billy.' OK, no more 'wilkravitz.' I'll say 'Billy.' They're fighting. They're all fighting. Conrad wants to be a comedy writer. Jonathon, or Tomas, or whatever you want to call him almost had a stroke. He goes - You stupid, stupid, stupid son of ah beech.....You know how his accent comes out when he gets mad. Three hundred and thirty years in this country and still sounds like Ricky Ricardo. No, not Ricky Ricardo. Like that swordsman guy Mandy Patinkin played in The Princess Bride. Similar haircut too, only shaped better. 

Conrad sent jokes into Jimmy Fallon. They got a format. there's a way they package them. He googled it. I didn't type it up for him. Maybe Leo did. I don't know. They were jokes about The Sound of Music. Conrad loves The Sound of Music. Von Trapp Family versus Jackson Family on Family Feud. More like a bit. More like a sketch than jokes. Fallon's the host. Von Trapp kids all like eighty three years old. Still got them little sailor suits.  Jacksons all got Jerri Curls. Von  Trapps keep callin' Fallon ' Fraulein Maria, 'cause they're senile. Every time they give a bad answer they start shaking and goin' - You're not gonna call Hitler are you?... I don't know what the Jacksons said. Never saw those pages. 

But some woman emailed him. Asked for more material. He arranged to meet her too. A dinner meeting in New York. Figured he'd rent a windowless panel van, or something and ride up in the back. Tomas goes - You stupid! stupid! son of a beech! What if she hire you!? What if she give you a job?! How you gonna make a pee pee? How you gonna take a urine test!? You think about THAT, you dumb bastard!? How you gonna go to work? Go! Go! They raise a window shade, you go 'poof.' You die. That'll be it... Leo starts clapping. Conrad bangs his fist on the table. Baylah was there and she says - Look, Conrad, if you want to do a set, come to the piano bar. I'll fix it up..... He sniffs and goes - Really??... Tomas rattles off something in Old Vahmperigo. Sounds a lot like Catalan. Like that kind a Spanish. Like Spanish mixed with French. Then he goes - I'm not feeling well. I'm light headed... and he storms out. Grabs his leather jacket and storms out. ... Everybody looks. The elferinos and elferinas don't know what to say, being new here and all. Baylah sighs. Conrad whines. Edith says - He ain't gone no where, 'cause he ain't got them 'bootkins' on. What, he's gonna walk around in socks all night? (gestures out toward the street) They don't know he's a vampire? They're gonna know he's crazy?..... Then she looks at Conrad and goes - Conrad, you got 'buyer's remorse.'  I'm not a life-eater. I'm not a vampire, but I know, 'cause I listen and I hear a lot and I'm smart..... Leo goes - Yeah, and you're a witch too.... Edith says - Alright, I'm a witch too, but that's not what this is about..... Nobody says anything. Conrad starts rocking back and forth like he's on the continuum. Look, this is a common thing. Vampires get that way. New ones, I mean. They see things. The Holidays come around. They hear music. They smell something. You know how important 'smell' is to them? And they remember. They remember 'before.' They remember the daylight. 'Daylight fever' it's called. And he's got it. Baylah knows. Tomas knows too. Look, he gets crazy. You know that. Conrad 'll go with Baylah. He'll do some comedy. The stuff he sent to Jimmy Fallon isn't all he has. OK, he'll have to read it out of a black and white composition book, but that could be like his 'thing.' Let him get it out of his system. Maybe he'll be the world's first openly night-folk comic? Carson Daly'd have him. Can you imagine what Chelsea Handler and Andy Cohen would do with him? They tried to tell humanity about all that vampire crap before. I mean 'all' of humanity. Not just a few 'familiars' and some cops who run interference, but everybody.

I wish Sarah was here, but she went out. Had to buy underwear for the elferinos and elferinas. They didn't have any. Didn't know about it. Three hundred years and no tightie-whities. Can you imagine? Sounds like a novel . It's Christmas time. A lot a vampires shop now. Stores stay open. They never close.  And it's winter.

Everybody looks dead...


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