Thursday, March 27, 2014

Hungarian Rhapsody #2, Pt. 2~1926~L. Stokowski ~ The Philadelphia Orchestra... sets the scene for night-folk events

Some 'Atmosphere' And Back Story Leading Up To A Pivotal Night-Folk Confrontation
<watch the video>









The evil elferino known as Peter prepared to descend from the heights. A thousand feet is nothing to accomplished fliers, especially one trained at Topkapi. How he missed the incense and perfumes of that place. The artistry of Sinan. Friday devotions at Haiga Sophia, premiere religious sanctuary in The See of Abraham (encompassing the Abrahamic or <in order of appearance> Hebrew-

Christian-Muslim world). So he stood up, held the baby close, cradling her little head by his neck, stepped onto the barrier ....(how high... the city alight... from river to river... from The Schuylkill to The Delaware... stage set for America's nativity) surveyed the glittering towers, leaned forward and fell, shimmering into invisibility, as he and the little one drifted down to the sidewalk. There was a reception at The Comcast Center that night. Limousines bled glitterati all over the street. Tight-necked, capped toothed matrons (skin re-upholstery is a wonderful thing) and their steel haired, orange 'tanned' tuxedo clad husbands. Let me tell you, money changes everything. And no one noticed a discretely materializing elferino ('little brother' in the vampirino world), as he made his way through the crowd, holding the baby safe. 


For a time they just walked, spreading the scent, if you will. Tomas would find them. Night-folk know their own. The 'born' witch might sense Boopsie. After all, they're family. Blood will tell. But there was time. The night was young. So he took the baby into a yuppie supply house on Walnut Street and walked out with a state of the art stroller and a handmade stroller blanket too. Tags were still on it. But an elferino magician, trained in the Ottoman Court, is well versed in the art of obfuscation, so tags don't mean a God damned thing. And even though the alarm went off, no one ever heard.


He took the baby into a Waffle Shop, got a booth toward the back, ordered silver dollar pancakes, low sugar apple juice in a restaurant supplied sippy-cup, a scrambled egg to top it off and an iced tea for himself. Baby's eat a lot. Baby witchlings are no different. So he cut everything into tiny pieces, topped with the requisite butter and syrup and she ate. Warm food and a full belly spreads the scent.


Later, back out on the street, he picked up something. The taxi with the technically decapitated driver (see OLDER POST down below) was close by. They danced about each other, he and the baby, the taxi and the rest, spiraling in toward a certain meeting spot. The video, up above, will give you a clue. Well, more than a clue. 'X' marks the spot, America's oldest, continuously operating, grand opera house, Philadelphia's Academy of Music... The Grand Old Lady of Locust Street, holding court amidst The Avenue of The Arts. It's empty tonight. The vast, three thousand seat sister to La Scala is dark. But the ghosts are there. And soon an assortment of night-folk will be too.


Tomas loves the place and has since opening night... more than one hundred and sixty years ago...


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2 comments:

  1. The OG was here....... 'velly intwesting'

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. THANKS! Knew a literate soul like you would get it. Blood and death and guts are delightful too, but ... you know, sometimes we need a change. Will look for you around Twitter Corners.

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