Tuesday, December 24, 2013

THE VAMPIRES CONTEMPLATE POWER AND RELATE GRUESOME EXPERIENCES.... 12/24/13

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....

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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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