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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A CHEERING SECTION OF GHOSTS.... 3/21/13

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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