So, as you know, Tomas and Sarah and Luna and Billy (have we missed anyone?) fled Earth aboard Doctor Franklin's covert space craft, The Poor Richard, arriving at Baby Philadelphia, premiere human settlement in the assorted melange that is the interior surface of the moon. Tomas had a brush with a loathsome alien specimen, but other than that, it's all been honky-dory. Trouble is, back on Earth, in the other Philadelphia, it ain't so honky-dory. (any linguists know the origin of that term?.... guessing Latin?).
Tomas' dream for an all inclusive world, where paranormals and just-plain-normals (abnormals too) live together in mutually beneficial bliss and brotherhood went kaput. (THAT, I KNOW is Latin). Too many human beans ain't evolved enough for that. Hell, we still ain't solved acne, flatulence and bad-hair-days. What do you expect?
Fundamentalist hordes of all stripes quickly formed vigilantes. And they know about vampiric inability to sublimate through lead, thus the old Eastern State Penitentiary rapidly morphed into a slip shod version of seventeenth century Europe's Black Fortress (google MARIANNE IN BRITCHES by Billy Kravitz and poke around, if you want to learn about that horrific place). Heavy,lead panels were bolted to walls, creating cells impervious to vampire abilities. Thin nets of the same noxious metal hung from ceilings and walls, blocking all avenues of escape. Indeed, the vast structure itself was shrouded in a gerrymandered assemblage of lead mesh. For night-folk (vampires) there was no way out. Terrified blood drinkers,swathed in heavy chains and lead reinforced blankets, babbled away in dark, dank cells, waiting for their turn in the crematorium ( actually, crudely altered pizza ovens, since actual crematoriums were few and far between).
The paranormal world went to ground. Even the witches, both born and trained, were silent. Werewolves of all types and castes still prowled the shadows, but they're daring. They do stuff like that. If you want to know more, google WEREWOLF CASTES by Billy Kravitz. That should provide some links and, as always, scroll or poke around.
Less well known denizens of the night, like SQUATCHES, Jersey Devils and merfolk (although, strictly speaking, they manifest in daylight too) simply stole away to their woodland and oceanic hideaways. But vampires suffered the most.
Baylah, our two hundred and fifty year old ( at least ) Beyonce lookalike hid with the mole people in their deep, deep warren of never-used, subway tunnels. Others you may know have vanished. Are they 'dead?' Is someone hiding them? Do they fight with various Armia Vampirida bands said to exist? Who knows?
And those non-decomposing zombies they have around here (Philadelphia) are just a bunch of collaborator-shits. That 'Uber Zombie' Uther aus Ulm is the worst. Rides around in a big, black GMC Denali all tricked out with bright silver trim. Bullet proof, they say it is. Fingers paranormal types... even innocent little elferinos and elferinas... cherubs too. District Leader What's His Name gave him a big apartment, high atop one of the Society Hill Towers. Probably a penthouse, because they have private elevators. Believe me... you don't want to go up there. Got a renegade, 'born' witch helping too. Don't know her name. Folks call her Maleficent, after the Disney character. But that's all anybody knows.
The Red Paint people (always secretive and trustworthy) operate an Underground Railway of sorts, funneling all types of beings out to The Jersey Pine Barrens, or down to The Smokies. And this stuff is spreading all over. They got Posses in Louisiana, Arizona and Houston.... San Diego too. So far most only target paranormals and paranormal sympathizers, but a lot of folks are desperate to get out of the country, or at least the blatantly infected parts. Tractor trailers barrel into Canada, but a Posse in Idaho and another in Michigan are already talking annexation, so what the hell good it that gonna do? New York is still relatively free. A lot head there. But they're starting to turn away people at the bridges and tunnels..... And don't even get me started on Russia, or Ukraine, or the Middle East, or Burma, or France. If I wasn't a disembodied, spirit narrator, I'd be running too.
But you can't kill a ghost twice, so, so far, we're OK.
You want to get rich? Hoard cans of tuna, or Campbell's Chunky Soup. But save some for yourself.....
You're gonna need it.
<next time we go back to the moon>
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if we used any words or terms you don't know, just Google (fill in any word of term) by Billy Kravitz and you should get something. thanks for coming. please COMMENT. tell your friends. good night.... 1:11AM somewhere in The New Jersey Pine Barrens...or maybe from The Moon.
The largest human settlement inside the moon is Baby Philadelphia, a polity shepherded by Doctor Franklin much as he molded its Earthly counterpart. Artisans brought out in the early days made moon rocks into cobbles and moon mud into bricks, recreating an Oz-like, scaled down replica of The Quaker City. Colonial and Federalist town houses face narrow, tree lined streets. Ladies who lunch frequent the private dining club atmosphere of Old City Tavern. Actors trod the boards of jewel box-like theaters. Politicos weave their webs in smoky coffee houses. Thirty five thousand souls inhabit this artful confection, the same number as lived in 'The City' (original central district) during The Revolution.
Men wear knee britches. Ladies affect long skirts, though less crinolined than in the early days. Multi-paned, bow windowed shops vend all manner of things from basest necessities to dearest luxuries. Fine, genetically perfected horses carry swains to secret assignations. Rich, lacquered coaches drawn by metallic, automaton steeds pull the 'carriage trade' on their rounds. Some use traditional horses, or at lease the genetically perfected kind. But most phaetons and broughams prefer the more mechanistic variety.
Doctor Franklin and his human, temporarily human and not quite human guests rode in one such arrangement... a dark red, hard polished coach pulled by four equally reflective, fully articulated, black, metal horses with keen, silicon 'eyes' and thoroughly computerized brains. His companions were quite entranced.
Tomas (the former vampire, now temporarily human) observed everything and said - Doctor, some of these citizens have a strange cast... an indeterminate 'race.'if you will, I cannot pin it down. The eyes look too large... the skin too porcelain ... the features too clipped. And I saw a woman with a turbaned, silk coated monkey that seemed to laugh at her jokes??? What are they?
Off World, my dear boy.... aliens, or at least tinged with alien blood. We have that here. Some of the other settlements are more-or less people-ish. Close enough chromosomally to breed. You'll meet a few later.
Sarah, the benevolent vampirina, asked about life-eaters (vampires) . She said - Will we meet any?..... But Doctor Franklin just smiled... And Luna, his vampirina-physician protegee, smiled too.
Billy, their human in-house blogger, didn't catch all them Mona Lisa faces. He just wanted to know where you go to get those cool knee britches and if they come in suede.
Earth and her problems was far, far away. But Edith was down there... so was Baylah.
Next time we'll talk to them...
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Tomas sat on the white marble steps. He liked watching the nighttime sky, but this world had none, just a sparse twinkling of ersatz stars blinking in the void. Clouds passed over head. Leaves rustled in the breeze. Conditions were more or less 'normal' in this vast, artificial habitat. They even had mosquitoes and crickets. But through the clouds, far, far out there, he could just barely see the hazy image of the opposite side. Green. (a forest?) Lights. (a town?) Humans? Monsters? Benevolent, or threatening?
And where did the gravity come from? Why didn't they all fall in toward the manufactured, sun-like thing at the center? He didn't like this place. So he closed his eyes, breathed in the nighttime air, or what passed for it and dreamed of home. But not Philadelphia, his real home.... the fragrant, sun kissed valleys of Al Andalus. After a time, he could smell the warm, dry perfume. He could taste the dates and olives. He could hear the cantor's prayer. Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea was at peace. He leaned back against the stout, maple door of the shuttered inn and hummed a street song learned in the bazaars of Cordoba. If he only had an oud, or guitarra . How he loved to play.
So he never heard the thing as it approached. It's high pitched whoop? Perhaps a night bird. And it caught him by surprise. Nineteen feet in length it was. Fat like a walrus, humping along on small foot-like protrusions. Thick, wrinkled hide. Two heads. Elephant heads, they were, but earless and mouthless, each ending in a short, thick trunk. Large, black, front facing eyes... Spider's eyes... Eight of them... Four to a head. And this 'thing' brought here from another world was curious. What would a human (though it did not know that word) taste like? Should it masticate the prey, or swallow it whole? The left brain, in the left head, being the more logical of the two, opted for 'whole.' Three heartbeats later (human heartbeats, I mean) it reached out with a trunk-like proboscis and kissed his ankle. Tiny lancets mounted just inside the lose, mouth-like opening, perhaps remnants of long ago, arthropod mandibles, pierced his skin, injecting a cool, numbing, fluid. The other trunk, belonging to the other head, caressed our thousand year old, transplanted youth from Al Andalus, positioning his body so it's twin could suck him in. Tomas screamed. But it was a silent scream. His voluntary muscles no longer worked. Yet he was quite conscious of being eaten alive.
Luna, fresh from her first, Moon-World tryst, gazed through the mullioned bedroom window and saw it all. She gasped, crashed through the glass, vaulting down like an arrow, as her naked body instantly 'sublimated' right through the flaccid beast, shredding it to bits. Gray-red, gobbets of livery flesh flew everywhere, a feast for unseen crawly things. Then she dragged herself out from under what remained of the carcass and gently pulled her one time lover free.
He was just this side of death. And for the second time she quickened him with hot, little, blood-tinged kisses. Vampirinas can do that.
Doctor Franklin and the inn keeper raced 'round from the back, rifles at the ready. Takes time to unlock the gun cabinet and all. They immediately carried him back inside. Sarah, his consort, took over, helping him to a wash room, where she carefully bathed him and made him clean. Luna, now wrapped in a sheet, watched from across the hall, til Sarah quietly reached over and closed the door. Then she wiped her skin with a wet rag and got back into bed, where mister whoever he was still waited.
Tomorrow, God willing, they'd enter Baby Philadelphia...
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Got company tonight and I got to get up early.They don't understand 'creative' endeavors like blogging, writing or knotting lanyards out of gimp. Think books come printed from the factory and films come sealed in the can.
Frustrating....
But here's an easy way to have a (hopefully) fun Vampire Wonderland scavenger hunt.
Google ANY WORD OR TERM YOU LIKE... then type 'by Billy Kravitz' after it... See what weird and pixilated hoo-ha's pop up.... From the ridiculous to the (some have said) sublime.
No, really. some DID say 'sublime.' I don't think English was their first language, but they DID say it.
samples:
Boiled Pasta by Billy Kravitz well, I just tried it and this one didn't work, but the other two did... make some up.
False Teeth by Billy Kravitz
Eleanor Roosevelt by Billy Kravitz
SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION by Billy Kravitz <~~~ this one works real good. just tried it too.
try it. like Six Degrees Of Billy Kravitz..
boy, who'd a thunk it?
gotta go try some more.
also gotta go upstairs now and rouse one of the guests from his night terrors... Eerie in a dark house. (I work in a little sitting room, in a small pool of light from an old, iron floor lamp)
good night.
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A person looking out across the twenty one hundred mile diameter of the Lunar interior would see things with amazing clarity. Polities on the opposite side appear finely etched and crisp. Cities raised by strange hands shine like filigree. The view is occasionally hidden by clouds, near ones above the observer's hear, or more distant manifestations far away over kingdoms on the other side.
The resurrected former vampire, known as Tomas, or Jonathon is one such observer. But he looks out into blackness. The small, sun-like thing at the center of this hidden world is dark now. A few star-like pinpoints of silvery light shine here and there in the globular void. Doctor Franklin says they have no mass, but are very real just the same.
Everyone else is inside, the inn locked snug against the night.
Sarah reads old volumes in the small, circular library, many brought out from old estates in The Home Counties, or The Mainline. She loses herself in Edith Wharton....The Age Of Innocence and all that. Vampires appreciate the timeless dignity of it. The other comely vampirina, Luna sleeps with a human traveler. Not a newcomer from Earth, but a native descended from the First Crossing, brought by Franklin approximately one hundred and seventy years ago.... a businessman of some sort. She enjoys him. He lets her take little drinks.... not too much. Mustn't stain the sheets. The blood tastes good... not a full measure... not a true meal.... no one dies. Luna makes due.
Doctor Franklin sits by the glowing hearth with the landlord. They sip brandy, an old decanting brought from Spain during The Spanish Civil War. The landlord is a tall man. Most of the Selenese (as people from Selena, the inner surface of The Moon, are called) are tall. Low gravity does that. Bones grow straight and long. The man wears knee britches and a full, white shirt, though with Gucci loafers. Franklin introduced eighteenth century garb in the middle of the nineteenth century, but small mutations violate the norm every now and then.
FRANKLIN - How goes the hunting hereabouts?
THE LANDLORD - Two last time. What do you think you just ate?
FRANKLIN - (chuckles) That's why I asked.... Any 'two heads?'
THE LANDLORD - Skull drying out back. Gave the other one away. Had a ninety pound Labrador in its gut. Swallowed with the eyes open and everything. You should have seen the look on its face. Ribs intact. Not crushed. Breathing, it was. They say one down by New Chester had a fresh, whole fat lady inside. Kin knew her... a bit bleached out and shiny, but otherwise OK. Dead, but OK... Like she had a real strong facial. That's all. Want to see? (fishes out phone) I,I,I got pictures....
FRANKLIN - (takes phone) stares at image for a while. nods. hands it back.
THE LANDLORD - None 'round here. Not yet... too close to Baby Philadelphia. Got to go 'cross the river... Look for 'silver tracks,' slime trails. Got to listen too....
FRANKLIN - For what?
THE LANDLORD - Like a hiss. Like a hiss. Like how an old fashioned, cast iron radiator goes. And sometimes a high pitched whoop thing too.
FRANKLIN - Lord, I haven't been back in years. A whoop? What kind of whoop?
The Landlord - Like a whoop. Like a whoop. Like how Prince goes.
.
FRANKLIN - (shakes his head) I...I, uh???
THE LANDLORD - Like a whoop. Like a whoop! Like a...
They hear a 'whoop' in the distance, outside
THE LANDLORD swallows. FRANKLIN listens real hard.
THE LANDLORD - (whispers) that...
FRANKLIN - (whispers) shit... Where's Tomas?
THE LANDLORD - (whispers) outside...
They hear another whoop.
THE LANDLORD - (whispers) Jackson, I meant Michael Jackson...
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please comment. kidnap your friends and make them visit us too. thank you.
Sorry I haven't posted new narrative in a few days.
Heat's been very bad here. Bit better today but it's
coming back.
Very much appreciate everyone who visits. Will
try (no, not 'try'... do) to post new material tonight.
Thanks for putting this site over the 200,000 hits
mark. (couldn't believe it).
If you haven't poked around yet and would like to,
as always, click on browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ..
or google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz
or BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz.... Bingo Boy is a basically non
paranormal weird romance between kids working in a rough,
below the 'el' tracks, grubby, walk-in bingo hall.. strange pixilated
characters. Gee, I'd like it to be an 'indie' film... (I really would)
That's all. Won't bother you anymore. Let me go stand under some cool water.
Please drop a card (comment)
Enjoy your day. A lot of people like this Amy Winehouse video. It's up there if you want to see....
Doctor Franklin may have been ferrying colonists to the moon since the later part of the nineteenth century, but humans do not control much of it. He has one ship. Commodious as it is, The Poor Richard is, really, rather small. You know those yachts you see docked at Monaco? Well, it's like that. Maybe six state rooms. Crew quarters for a like amount. A hold. A galley. An observation 'deck.' A propulsion room. Yadda yadda. Badda bing. Some heads. That's it. And those early colonists wanted to bring farm animals. You know the old reprobate wouldn't go for that. But he did let them bring embryos. Most didn't know what he meant. Got the necessary technology from the same place he got his ship. One dark, winter night, deep in the bowels of an early incarnation of The Anti-Enchantment Bureau...(in a sub-basement of The Walnut Street Theater back then) he tried something new with his 'armonica.' This was by no means as huge or technologically advanced as later models, but still apparently capable of great things. He was experimenting with frequencies... adjusting the crystal discs... moistening them... spinning them... zapping them with tiny, jittery boltlets of electricity. Wintry drafts of frigid air snaked down the narrow, creaking steps. Hurricane lamps flickered. And 'Highwayman,' a semi-domesticated raccoon, covered his eyes and jabbered away behind a stack of old scripts and playbills.Some animals are quite adverse to scientific exploration. Horses positively run from it. But Franklin gave him a plump smoked oyster from Kelly's On Mole Street and that made it all right.
On a whim he added another chord (via manipulation of the discs) based on an old cantorial heard at the Spanish Rite synagogue nearby.... Six part harmonics.... Da Vinci wrote about six part harmonics, but 'died,' or in some fashion 'vaporized' out of this world to God knows where before acting upon it. The sound is intricate and (even at low volume) quite powerful. The air positively vibrates.
There was a large, heavy, bell jar, maybe two feet high and eighteen inches across, formerly used to keep dust off a stuffed marmoset. Franklin fixed taunt copper wires to its exterior surface with daubs of horse glue carefully applied on the end of a bamboo chopstick given him by a sea captain big in the China trade. Then he pumped the floor pedal, adding a bit more energy, and set it all in motion, infusing the low ceiling chamber with a symphonic cacophony unheard in our solar system since Creation.
A golden mist began to condense on its inner surface and a strange, little, metallic automaton materialized right where the marmoset used to be, resembling nothing so much as a miniature Wizard of Oz tin man, by way of 3CPO. Franklin gasped. Then the creature turned, leaned forward and peered through the cloudy glass, looking right at him . Franklin froze. After a bit the intelligent machine, deciding the old scientist was of no importance, returned to whatever it was doing before being rudely transported.
Franklin watched, transfixed by the magic of it, as the little metal man uttered words through lips that were almost biologic in their movements. With each pronouncement small, complex components popped out of the ether, settled to the floor of the tiny, glass domed, chamber, patiently waiting til their number was sufficient. Then, via magnetic, or electric attraction, they quickly snapped into place, forming a minute version of what became his space craft, The Poor Richard. The hybrid tin-man said something else and the little craft rose from the 'floor' (in this case, an old, maple table) and effortlessly crashed through the thick glass dome, shattering it into five hundred and sixty four pieces. The raccoon peed on the cold, stone floor, as the obviously incredibly advanced contraption buzzed 'round the room like a wasp, before punching through the ceiling and the four ceilings above that, to disappear in the darkness. The metal automaton crumpled down upon the table and moved no more. I believe he rests in a toy museum to this day.
Within two months Franklin had the first of his chambers under the Old Philadelphia Navy Yard, a huge armonica and an almost hangar sized space to accommodate whatever the 'winds' blew in. He meticulously reproduced the harmonies in every way and one night, just before the dawn of a late March day, the metal man came back, only this time much taller (seventy nine inches to be exact) and the ungodly flying machine he pulled from the air was proportionately bigger too.
Thus, via the unwitting pilferage of alien 'magic' The Poor Richard was born. Lincoln wanted to use it against the Confederates, but his generals said such a huge advantage would be most ungentlemanly and quite improper, though I'm sure the wives and mothers of Union dead disagreed.
In that way it began.
Next time we return to the moon.
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The Poor Richard pivoted 'round til the underside faced the interior surface of the moon and touched down at a little port roughly where forty degrees north latitude would be. When the passengers, both vampire and human stepped out, Doctor Franklin began his spiel..... What you see is very old. The trees and all the other vegetation comes from Earth. Apparently here for at least seventy five thousand years. We know by comparing genetic divergence. Species here are essentially the same as Earth counterparts, however there are slight digressions and by measuring the rate of those digressions, or mutations we arrive at seventy five thousand years. Animals stem from seventy five thousand year old transplants too. (gestures across the void). There be mastodons there and saber toothed felines. But they're in preserves. Seems the original creators didn't fancy being trampled or chomped up, so they put them over there. We'll explore some of their early dwellings later... homey, in a not quite human way... not quite vampire too. And don't ask me where the gravity comes from. I can't explain it. Nor can I find a reason for that vacillating baby sun over there. You'll note that all points on the interior of this lunar shell enjoy the same climate, since all receive identical measures of 'sun' light. But the amount of heat and illumination varies over the course of a Selenial (our name for this inner world, based on the Greek word for moon) day. The central starlet produces everything from palest dawn to high noon and back again. Full night is hypnotic. It dims to a velvety black, though thin, deep, orange lines snake across the surface, from time to time. And tiny, pinpoints of twinkling light that seem to be a type of umpteenth generation hologram, appear at various coordinates in the void... special effects starlight, I suppose. Clouds form naturally, as they would in a terrarium It rains here. Occasionally we endure soft, juvenile hurricanes and light snowfalls all keyed to the rhythms of the days, nights and seasons of that far off world. A day equals twenty six and a half hours and each season is six weeks long, leading us to believe their home world went 'round a smaller sun. Perhaps an orange dwarf.
Sarah said - How is it that the light from that little sun doesn't burn us? Luna and I, I mean. We're vampires. after all..... Well, it's not a sun. Not a real sun. Something causes the light. Something creates the heat. But it's not nuclear fusion. Maybe that's why. I don't know what it is. - said the Doctor.
Tomas (staring into the orange glow) quietly asked - Who knows about this place?..... Doctor Franklin considered for a moment and said - I do and all my people of course. A few friends and associates around the world. We've been bringing settlers since The Crimean War..... I never knew - said Tomas..... NASA never knew either - said The Doctor. I suppose they will when they return. Imagine. We have a land area equal to North and South America combined. Those glassy looking shapes you see scattered about are lakes. Wait til you taste the prawns. You can have them now, Tomas, not being vampire and all.
Luna didn't say much. She'd been there before. And Billy was dumbfounded by that Crimean War remark, though he was conscious of a gentler gravitational pull. Back aches are rare around this place. After a bit, they got into a large golf cart, driven by one of the crew members, and bounced off toward a nearby town. 'Baby Philadelphia' they said it was called.
Franklin continued his running commentary as they went along.... We believe this is a rudimentary Dyson Sphere... A scale model, if you will, fashioned from an errant Jovian moon. Why they built it here, I don't know. Buckminster Fuller had his theories, but they were just theories...... Then they came round a bend. Franklin gestured toward a comfortable looking, gray stone house set among the trees and said - Ah, look! The Bluestone's open! Pull in, Geoffrey. We could use some dinner.
So they entered a traditional, Pennsylvania inn... warm wood floors... creamy plastered walls.. long oak bar... mullioned windows... crown molding... small, cozy fire. The innkeeper, a second generation transplant from Hait-Ashbury, led them to a table (did he know who they were? well, he recognized Franklin.) and they sat down to a wonderful meal. The two vampirinas made do with thin, flavorful bisques, which they thoroughly enjoyed. The human sort savored rich, goose pie, pepper-green salad and blueberries over homemade ice cream.
Everyone had wine.
And the little sun-like thing in the middle of this world went from orange to red to violet to black.
The first day was over.
But the first night had begun...
<more next time>
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Space is quiet. When worlds collide there is no sound. And space is dark... an endless frigid void sprinkled with tiny, orbs representing various degrees of insignificance. Tomas sat by a window gazing at pinpoints of light, the distant hearts of remote planetary systems. He was silent, almost meditative.... a post-vampire lost among the stars. Such things he's seen... The exquisite tinkling fountains of the Caliphate of Cordoba... Elizabethan London.... dhows off The Yemen... Carnival in Venice. He was a vampire for roughly one thousand years and mortal for eighteen years before that. Now adrift... No trim, leather bootkins.... No finely tailored white shirts, black jeans, or other trademarks from those days. Vampires are vain, you know. Iberian aristocrats are too... Tomas de Macabea, also known as Jonathon ben Macabi, presently in a large, midnight skinned, triangular craft floating toward the lesser sister in our Earth-Moon binary system.
He thought about Philadelphia and all his plans... A better world... A spiritual place.... Magic and the mundane reconciled... An enchanted existence where science and the ethereal plane intersect. But now it was over. Power must be controlled. Magic is power and those immersed in it must be contained. Governments and the people behind them demand it.
He was too vain. Not satisfied to be dead, or whatever that state was. So now Doctor Franklin's Anti-Enchantment Bureau is in adversarial hands. 'Enemy' wouldn't be the right term. They're our government after all and the self absorbed scion from Al Andalus refugees toward Luna..... Not the vampire-physician-protegee of Doctor Franklin, but the world she's named after.
Crew members padded about, outfitted in those attractive, yet strange, trim, navy and white, Early American uniforms. And were they all really named Jedidiah, or Lucas, or Absalom? Doctor Franklin liked such conceits. Where'd the fresh flowers come from? And the 'Spanish Ladies' (goldfish)? Tomas picked up a decorative trinket from the dark, polished table beside him, some silver shape, maybe it was pewter. Then he opened his hand and let in drift back to the fine, ebony surface. There was gravity, just enough. Franklin never said where it came from.
The others were off somewhere. Onboard timepieces read 7PM. Perhaps they were dining? Sarah and Luna, being vampire, might ingest clear broth, or wine. They could have that. The blogger, Billy, is human. And although Doctor Franklin is a three hundred and seven year old, scientifically preserved 'Founding Father,' he's still essentially human too.
Odd that Tomas wasn't with them. He's human too now. But he has to think. You know how spiritual he is. There was a momentary hiccup. The ship changed direction... just a minute correction. But now he could see the Moon, a large, gray-silver globe... so sharp... so tuned in and precise. The ship drew closer. Where would they land?
He motioned toward a footman... a 'Rupert.' or an 'Eli,' or something and quietly asked - Where do we land? How will we live?..... But the well trained factotum just gave him a cool drink (in a spill-proof, sterling, sippy cup) and smiled.
They passed over the rim of a large crater... like a scene from Kubrick's 1968 epic. Tomas loved that film, even if his part in it was thirteen years too late. But the floor to the crater was not there. He still had a vampire's keen sense of perception. He knew where the surface should be, but it just was not there.
The space-faring craft, The Poor Richard descended down through the lunar crust... through a cylindrical portal round as a Mayan cenote ... flat and steady, like a giant elevator, finally entering into an impossibly immense expanse more than eighteen hundred miles across. And Tomas saw the green, moist, true face of the moon. Rivers traced lacy paths through ancient forests. There were towns. Well, at least he saw the lights. An orange radiance... a miniature sun occupying the space where the core should be, bathed all in a late day glow.
W-what is this thing? - whispered Tomas.....
Your new home, sir - said the Rupert, or Eli.
But the former vampire, who'd seen many things, just stared....
Not even Byzantium came close to this...
<more next time>
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please leave a comment. if you like, scroll back a bit and read some episodes you might have missed, or click on OLDER POST down below. thank you.
A lot of people on TWITTER were talking about a 'might be' film focusing on legendary classic rock producer, Phil Spector's early days, entitled SOUND MAN.
If you crave rock and roll-prime, listen to the clip up above. Some say JOSEPH GORDON-LEVITT considered for the young Phil. And don't forget the pivotal RONNIE SPECTOR role too~~> (LIKE WALKING IN THE RAIN). Picture a younger ROSIE PEREZ. Maybe she could still play it?
My dream is to see PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK, the coherent, simpler script that came before Vampire Wonderland (picture a quirky vampire love story with a bit of conflict and adventure thrown in) made into a movie with all my favorites from the Phil Spector canon on the sound track. If you'd like to hear lots more, google Phil Spector material on You Tube.... TONIGHT I MET THE BOY I'M GONNA MARRY and all that.
The WALL OF SOUND...
Learn about it...Part of the AMERICAN MUSIC BIBLE.
< and a lot of KNOWN people were really talking about this..... oh, that TWITTER thing up above is clickable>
If you want some good Vampire Wonderland material, google BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz or EL RANCHO TEXACO by Billy Kravitz , click on the top choices and press OLDER POST or NEWER POST when you get to the bottom.. BINGO BOY's a quirky (my word of the day) gritty, under the Philadelphia 'el' tracks romance between kids working in a smoke filled, storefront bingo hall, with a few murder victim ghost narrators. Make a good indie film.
OK, that's it. Almost 4:45AM here. Time to go to sleep, or maybe get up for work.
Til next time.
Thanks.
SCENE - Doctor Franklin's vast, cutting edge, research facility, beneath The Philadelphia Navy Yard.
Technicians and functionaries race down a bright, sterile passageway. Lights flicker. People scream. Small, tactical concussive bombs thrown by advance squadron of 'Black Knights,' covert U.S. government forces used to confront magical types and crypto-biologic creatures. Bodies shatter. Limbs fly off. Eyes liquefy . Tongues sizzle, swell like baked balonies and explode. A female wearing a white lab coat throws squirming mer-folk toddler, as her torso splinters into a million bits in an almost fireworks-like nimbus of blood. But a Black Knight catches the pudgy sea-child before it smacks against the polished concrete floor.
Up ahead, DOCTOR FRANKLIN, the vampire TOMAS, his consort SARAH, the vampire-physician LUNA and their 'verified' tweeter/ blogger, BILLY make a mad dash for safety, accompanied by various hangers-on. The mad doctor, astride his souped-up electric scooter, wispy hair flying in the wind leads them.
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - You fall, you're dead. That's it. We're not stopping.
BILLY pivots 'round to catch a glimpse of their pursuers. TOMAS grabs him, just as a severed human head ricochets off the walls, floors and ceiling, bouncing passed DOCTOR FRANKLIN who unceremoniously smashes it under the wheels of his vehicle.
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - Careful the blood!
More Black Knights round a corner up ahead. Our heroes are caught... (maybe)...
DOCTOR FRANKLIN yells - The guns! The guns! Shoot 'em! shoot 'em! Shoot 'em!
They pull out little 'glass' pistols with a series of carefully ground, crystalline discs mounted in the barrel. LUNA fires off a shot.
The crotch of one of the dark, spandex clad Black Knights up ahead vibrates for an instant before disengaging into sub-atomic particles and raining down upon the floor. He tries to run, awkwardly, but crumples down and dies. DOCTOR FRANKLIN whoops!
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - Watch my head!
TOMAS fires (all the time running). Black Knight number two loses an arm plus a big hunk of shoulder, tries to run, but it's a little rough maintaining balance. SARAH vaporizes his cranium. BILLY eviscerates the last one. losing a belly full of slightly digested mac and cheese upon the floor.
And the 'Knights' behind them keep on coming.
Our heroes slip and slide on the bodies, as they follow DOCTOR FRANKLIN 'round a corner toward an opened portal leading to a 'safe room.' Then, the ceiling above their heads begins to sweat... then leak... then cave, as an interior 'tsunami ' floods the hallway, washing them into the waiting refuge...
DOCTOR FRANKLIN yells - CLOSE!
A twenty four inch thick crystalline slab (ever so slightly milky) slams down sealing them off, as two Black Knights smash against its exterior surface. DOCTOR FRANKLIN (struggling to his feet) thumbs his nose at them, as he leads them up some steps to a round chamber lined with fluted alcoves.
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - Get in. Get in Get in!
Each follows his lead, grabs an alcove and buckles up.... Nothing happens.
Tomas - Oughtn't you Say something, old man???
FRANKLIN smiles.
Then WHOOSH!!! The round chamber streaks up a cylindrical passage, like a sealed canister in a pneumatic tube. Seconds later they break through and rise above a battle, as government operatives, local Philly cops and Anti-Enchantment Bureau personnel slug it out... A few errant Bigfoot creatures and other 'guests' from the exotic 'hotel' (really a menagerie) join the melee.
Three heartbeats later, the mysteriously powered crystalline conveyance (harmonics, Doctor Franklin's science of choice, requires quartz-like substances) 'mates' with a circular opening on the under side of a large, silently hovering, midnight black, triangular air craft (who knows? maybe space craft too?). Seconds layer, crew members tricked out in snug, updated, navy blue and white, eighteenth century Continental Army uniforms help them out and lead all into a grey hushed salon with ergonomic recliners. Each takes a seat...
EXTERIOR SHOT of huge craft, as it ascends above dazzling, nighttime cityscape and flies off...
Back inside....
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - We knew this was coming. I've had offers. The Russians want me... The Chinese... The Canadians...
SARAH - The Canadians?
He nods.
SARAH - Who brokered that?
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - Seth Rogen.
BILLY stifles a laugh.
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - Don't judge. Quite the operative, that one. It's all just a cover.
TOMAS - And your decision?
DOCTOR FRANKLIN - As your countrymen say, my dear boy, 'Que sera, sera.'... (to smartly tricked out crew member) Some grog, please, Jedidiah....
Seconds later they slice through an aurora kissed ionosphere into the endless vault of space...
<more next time>
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In 1876 the world came to Philadelphia for The Centennial Exposition. The telephone was introduced. Pedro II, emperor of Brazil made the first call. Coal powered monorails whisked passengers around the perimeter of the grounds. And modern detective practice coalesced out of , well, basically nothing, in order to catch all the murderers. Killers seem to like world's fairs. That's just the way it is. Everybody knows that. I think it was once a question on Jeopardy. Alec said - World's Fairs.... and a Dipsy Doodle champion from Texas answered - What do killers love?... She won.
'Black Marias,' primitive, horse drawn patrol wagons clattered through the streets, stuffed full with cutthroats, doxies, grifters and purse lifters. If you want to read about that era, google a fine, historical novel called THE BLACK MARIA by Mark Graham.
I referenced them to illustrate a point. What goes around, comes around. And Black Marias are back.... Only now the glossy, dark, lead-lined vans collect vampires and other unusual beings unable to sublimate through the dense, soft metal. You see, some government types embrace the enchanted world, while others curse it... That battle's been raging since Salem.
Our modern versions disgorge their load into the maw of the new 'lead room' hastily constructed beneath the haunted, though artistically arranged (and open to the public... don't miss it Halloween Time) medieval looking, two hundred year old, fortress-like bastion that is Eastern State Penitentiary. Vampires and other little known entities writhe in a pitch black cacophony of terrified shrieks and laughter. Periodically the space is dowsed in gasoline and set afire, the only guaranteed way to destroy night-folk.
But our hero, Tomas, and his consort, Sarah, rest safe within the vast, sterile bowels of Doctor Franklin's Anti-Enchantment Bureau. The name means nothing. Had to call it that way back when. They're almost all healed now. Luna, the other vampirina is too. Don't know what's happened to the rest of the Philadelphia contingent. Edith, their New Jersey Pine Barrens witchy-woman, housekeeper would know. But she's out there and I'm (it's me, Billy) locked in here with them.
And this wasn't supposed to be like that. They expected a big, paranormal vindication... a once and for all acknowledgement and acceptance. Even Bigfoot came. Well, you know there's more than one, obviously. But I don't know how many showed up. They say some vampires are with the mole people, others walked into the sea to join the merfolk. Vampires can do that. Oxygen's nothing to them.
Even Doctor Franklin's afraid. Someone seems to be scanning his files... the digital ones, I mean. And The Bureau, with all its technological /scientific know-how can't stop it.
I don't know how long he can last. Hope they don't kill us all...
They say there's a door down below.. how many levels I don't know, that connects to the mole people... gets you into the tunnels.
God, I wish I knew where it was...
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thanks. please COMMENT.. this is an on going tale and you really have to peruse the older episodes to know what's going on. just thought I'd say. ask any questions via Twitter. I'll be there.
These things must be done delicately. There's a reason alchemists always worked in the shadows. People crave power and magic IS power. Do you think a real life 'Darrin' would forbid his Samantha to use 'witch-craft?' Screw Gladys Kravitz (no relation to that Billy Kravitz fellow). They'd be out shaking their tushie and conjuring up stuff right on the front lawn. Come on, if your partner, or ANYBODY you were close to, told you they could overcome all barriers... No frustration... No stress... No work. Enjoy life. Have things. Go places. Meet people, BIG PEOPLE. Dine with the upper crust. Trade ideas with Spielbergs, Scorceses ... even Shakespeares. Live how you want, where you want, for as long as you want. And necromancy, or 'evilness' had nothing to do with it. What? You expect me to believe you'd say 'no?' Magic is just an ability, a way to focus energy. Some people can lift heavy weights, others control the universe. And if I'm exaggerating... if they can't control the universe, they can at least manipulate the part they inhabit.
I was born in New England, right after the Salem Witch Trials. People in Boston still remembered. They pointed at folks on the street and whispered - There goes Mary Parson's girl. No wonder her hens are so fat... the witch- daughter probably fixes things. Probably has her mother's book of skrails (spells). .... Then they'd tut-tut, clutch their market baskets close beneath their bosoms and hurry home in the rain. Umbrellas were still suspect, don't you know... a violation of God's will... Everyone was a Christian Scientist. People died when God told them to.... Might nibble on some folk remedy behind closed doors. Might sip a potion concocted by some old woman. They had midwives, but no physicians. I know. I've seen a lot. In case you do not know, it is I, Doctor Franklin, talking.
Luna and Sarah are resting. I minister to them in my way. They lay suspended in a bed of harmonics. The vibrations heal their wounds. Look to the previous posting, if you want to know the details. Tomas is resting too. He mumbles. He whispers. Doesn't want to go back... to being a vampire, I mean. Wants to be mortal. Wants to pick up where he was all those centuries ago. Wants to study faith and The Scriptures. All the old venerable European Academies are gone, burnt by the Nazis decades ago. But there are even older ones in The Galilee, in the holy city of Safed and other places.... Mystical assemblages of students lost in God's Teachings... and, in a sense, alchemists of 'The Word.' .... Tomas wants to go there. His allies here in town, his 'familiars' work to make that possible. ... Best they get him away from all this.
The streets aren't safe. Rival bands of witches and magic folk fight for the ascendancy. Government functionaries arrest overt practitioners. Black Marias glide through midnight lanes once again. And the huge 'lead room' under construction in Old Fort Mifflin nears completion.
A new Inquisition fights 'magic' in it's own way. But this inquisition is a hypocritical affair, bent on stealing secrets and commandeering 'adepts' for their own purposes.
Edith gathers friends about her. They'll take to the tunnels far beneath the city and hide with The Mole Folk. They've done so before.
Those with special abilities are all about us. Open your eyes and 'see' what you know you see.
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More next time...
Sarah crashed through the doors. Almost sublimated through some skinny little thing in a white lab coat. Vampires kill that way. Rips up the meat. Shatters the bones. Tissue rains down on the floor like a chunky flesh smoothie. When it happens outside the rats like it. Shoved a bunch a scientific assholes out of her way. Grabbed Luna by the shoulders, spun her 'round and yelled - Get your bony claws off him, you blood sucking, quack doctor, vampire bitch!!
Luna jumped back. Everybody froze. Tomas II was still out of it, all blue and cold and shivering with tubes snaking out of him. Think he had a catheter in too. And I have to admit, that dead-actor-vampire-replacement body looked just like him. Sarah looked down and cried. She reached out to touch him. Luna said - Don't.... She hesitated. No one made a sound. Then she whispered - He's not a vampire anymore? Oh, God, look at him... Luna sneered, tossed her hair back and said - Not yet, anyway..... as she ran her tongue across her sharp, white teeth. ...... Sarah said - You leave him alone. Get out of here! Tomas, wake up! Tomas! Tomas!..... A few of the lesser functionaries snickered...... Luna said - Listen, you road company, nineteen eighties Susan Sarandon ( to others) Look at her. Only vampire in creation can't buy herself a good brassiere......( Uh, oh, that hurt ) You want him to live? Then get the hell out of my way, you 'goody-two-fangs-you....... as she shoved her aside..... Sarah momentarily acquiesced out of concern for her partially resurrected consort. She stood there in a daze, as Luna bit her lip and leaned over the exposed and vulnerable 'patient.' A rich, red, jewel-like orb prepared to drop from her sensual mouth, right into the slightly opened lips of the just barely breathing former vampire..... And then he twitched. Sarah saw that. At the last instant her hand shot out, caught the drop, closed 'round it and in a smooth arc came up to smash the quack-doctor-vampire-bitch (or whatever she was) right in her cold, hard, Elizabeth Hurley face. Blood spewed from the ruined nose. Vampirinas heal, but still that has got to be a serious provocation. Luna froze, eyes burning. Then she 'pulsed,' blasting the clothes right off her body. Sarah did the same. It's like a vampire reflex. She couldn't help it. They circled like panthers, leaning in, down low, each waiting for an opportunity. Everyone fell back. A few ran out. Somebody said 'Get Doctor Franklin.' But once they got started, what could he do? The Bureau did have vampire tranquilizing darts, however they were under lock and key. Filling the vials, arming the pistols... that would take time.
Whoa! Luna just went berserk, shrieking and screaming like a manic baboon. Drew first blood too. Bit Sarah right on the shoulder. Blood ran down like sergeant's stripes. Sarah lunged, grabbed Luna's arm, brought the hand up to her mouth and tore the thumb right out from the roots. Vampirina red ran everywhere, as they fell to the floor, twisting breasts, scratching nether parts and generally creating all kinds of naked-vampire-cat-fight mayhem. Can't be too graphic 'cause vampire children read our stuff too, you know.
Some researcher said - We ought to document this... and proceeded to record every thrust and parry on his phone. Vampire fights are a rare thing and this one would be a valuable addition to the archives.
Sarah, crazed like a rabid demon, crashed down on Luna's shoulders, pinning her to the floor, as she pummeled her already ruined face like a delirious Honolulu granny making poi.
But Luna arched her back, whipped her legs up off the floor and locked her feet 'round Sarah's neck, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing til the vampire-doctor's face was two shades north of eggplant.
Then every piece of glass in the place began to shatter. Pulses, I guess. They rolled across the shards. Like mud wrestling, it was. 'Cept it looked more like Bertoli Spaghetti Sauce wrestling due to the consistency of vampire blood once it leaves the body.
Tomas was covered in it. And you know some found its way passed his tongue. Luna's? Sarah's? Who knew. Not enough to make him vampire. Not nearly enough for that, but enough to fortify him. Enough to save him. He shot up. Jumped off the gurney, ripped out the tubes, even (gulp) the catheter and screamed for them to stop. But you know Tomas. When he gets nervous, he motor-mouths in Spanish. 'Sides, they were too worked up, all hot and sweaty. Train can't stop on no dime, you know. Them two top paramours of his could a killed him in his weakened, mortal state.
Finally, some guy from 'creature control' runs in. Darts 'em both right in the ass. Eye lids flutter. Legs go limp. Sprawl all over the floor, flopping 'round like fish. Lady parts all exposed. You KNOW they got that on video.
Six heartbeats later, Franklin (with his wispy hair flying in the wind) tools in on that electric scooter thing he has, eyes the carnage and goes - Jesus Christ! Clean this shit the hell up!
And just like that it was over.
'Least Tomas was OK.
But out on the streets, let me tell you, it wasn't over... and out on the streets it wasn't OK....
<please know if you read this prior to 11:55PM on 7/10/14 you read my immediate, eyewitness reportage, which was a teensy bit rough...went back and cleaned it up a little...can't help it...sometimes I just get SO excited!>.... <went back at 12:38PM and cleaned up some more>...And you think on Fallon when Jimmy and Dana played that 'impressions' game, they were purposely supplied with choices each could do? Wheels were just props, just devices. No way they could fail... Look, it's HOT and that's what I saw... 8^)
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We have to whisper (thus the small print), 'cause covert operatives are everywhere. Government forces want to put a lid on things... all the paranormal activity, I mean. Eye witnesses claim at least seven or eight genuine Jersey Devils (supposedly two family groups) slaughtered in park behind The Philadelphia Museum of Art (the 'Rocky' building). Witches, mostly of the 'trained' variety, conjuring spirits in Washington Square Park. Local vampires in hiding. That includes elferinos/elferinas and other varieties. Some low level non-decomposing zombie activity, but they're always opportunistic feeders.
It's been reported that look-alikes from the BEYOND TOP SECRET federal 'Doppelganger' program are now functioning as Philadelphia's mayor, police commissioner and I don't know who else. They say the program, first started during the Roosevelt years, has hundreds of carefully trained and indoctrinated 'twins' ready for insertion at moment's notice. Most fitted with 'choke collar' chips guaranteeing unerring cooperation. However the identity of the Ultimate Puppet Master is as yet unknown.
Philadelphia's top vampirina, the fortunately (for us) saintly, Sarah, sublimated through usual Anti-Enchantment Bureau barriers to be reunited with her espoused, Tomas, in the 'clean room.'... Some staffers know her. Most, obviously, know of her. Those present for the vampiric resurrection broke ranks and parted, affording her clear access to Doctor Franklin (still fiddling with controls) up by the Grand Armonica. The old reprobate never turned around, but when she drew near simply said - He's not here. They're working on him..... Where is he? - she said. What, does Luna have him?...... Franklin sighed and nodded. She turned and walked off.... Franklin said - Don't start anything. Not this time. Not with all the 'men in black' bastards running around. You want to get locked in a lead coffin? You want to get planted in The Marianas Trench? I'm telling you, Sarah. Listen to me..... But she'd already left. Before she could track Tomas by scent, but he had a different body now. It looked like him, but it was different. Couldn't even key into his brainwaves, 'cause his thoughts were relayed through a different brain. So she grabbed some skinny intern playing a back-in-the-day pinball game in a lounge down the hall and said - You know where Luna works?... The kid saw the fangs and nodded. She said - Then shut your God damned mouth and stop farting. Take me there, you dumb, son or a bitch (Sarah never talks like this).. Three heartbeats later he lead her down the bright, sterile maze-like hallways toward an express bank of elevators, scanned his palm (the old technology).. the door opened. They got in and WHOOSH.. they were there.
Now Sarah hates Luna. She'd never put it that way, but she does. They fought over Tomas once, back when the vampires were squatting in the basement storerooms of The Penn Museum... You know -- where all the mummies live. That's why the university made them leave. Mummy dust hung in the air for weeks. Little kids on school trips up above breathed it in and threw up all over the place. A regular asthma-rama it was...... And you ever see a vampirina cat-fight?.... More like two spiders than kitties.... Climbing up walls... Bouncing off ceilings.. sucking out eyeballs... Renn and Stimpie on steroids. Used to be some anonymous video (originally an old film) of two World War I era vampire bitches tearing it up on You Tube, but they moved it and now I can't find it. You know World War I era women didn't wear no bras? Corsets made like a little shelf. That held 'em up. Learned it from the film.
Feel bad about them slaughtered Jersey Devils, though... Horsey Skeezix cried when he heard. Three were his cousins.
And now they say government guys building a lead room (a big one) down by Old Fort Mifflin'
This is turning into something...
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