Wednesday, July 2, 2014

The Vampire Known As Tomas Sublimates Back To The Living... 7/2/14

I am drawn as if by celestial magnates. Those dear to me in this place fade away. I hear voices, some from this world, some from yours. They mumble. They whisper. They laugh. They cry. I discern no words. There is no solid surface. I plunge through space. But not a dark, cosmic void embedded with stars, planets and other isolated points of light. Mine is an endless daylight sky... a late afternoon sky, to be exact... maybe even early evening... vivid blues... white clouds tinged with purple. sunlight streams in from a low angle, but WHERE?... I see no sun. And the clouds are huge... or perhaps I am very small?

My body begins to solidify. I feel 'denser.'..... Off in the far, far distance I see storm clouds illuminated by tiny, fleeting shards of soundless lightning. I look for others, but see none. I am alone in an endless space. In God's omniverse there are many discrete infinities. 

Silent 'echoes' pulse through my being.... rhythmic and strong.....

Am I moving, or is everything else rushing through me?

{while back in the 'clean room' at Doctor Franklin's Anti-Enchantment-Bureau }

The Grand Armonica gives forth with an almost operatic crescendo. All is as it was during the goat experiment. The 'Lords Of The Sea'... the great whales, must have really sent over a whole shit load of ambergris. And instead of a goat, the polished bronze casket (actually, to me it looks like The Lost Ark Of The Covenant, only there's a matching 'Ark' all the way down at the other end and I don't think relics wrought by The Hand Of God come in pairs, unless you count certain highly sought after examples of designer footwear, but I believe He does those under assumed names for professional reasons, so they don't count) imprisons some model guy sent over by an agency under false pretenses... Thought he was gonna be in a fall fashion 'editorial' framed on tree-lined cobbled streets and all that. Doctor Franklin saw his head shot and resume in a book. A doppelganger for Tomas he was. Cut a real big check to the agency and the rest will soon be history... At least the model-boy will be. They'll say he disappeared under mysterious pretenses (true). An aunt out in Cleveland will also get a big check. She never liked him anyway. Big checks are like potato chips around here. You think our vampires are rich?..... Franklin is richer.

If you listen real hard you can hear him moaning. When he gets tired of that he chatters incoherently. The model, I mean. All the science people and technicians here swear it doesn't hurt, but they just want to see what happens. You see that squadron of ridiculously well groomed people watching from the corner? Invited guests they are..... Invited to pay fifty thousand dollars a head for the privilege. Kind of like the people who payed ten thousand dollars to hear our elferina, Marianne, recount her adventures and other worldly nativity in that posh Society Hill townhouse a while back. But this is different. Franklin's selling the immortality angle. And you know when they package that puppy, rich folks gonna go first, after they get back from Richard Branson's one time trampoline bounce up to space.

Best case scenario is model-boy survives... as a ghost. Well, they call it 'a ghost.' He'll be a coherent energy/spirit mass, hopefully in the image of his original physical self... like the 'ghost' goat they got bleating 'round The Bureau now. Worst case scenario?.... Eh, who cares? It's only a hobby.

Should take maybe forty five, sixty minutes more. We'll have either a resurrected, much loved vampire and a spectral model, or one dead fashionisto and a steaming mound of pricey whale-phlegm. Well, that's what ambergris really is.

Wait a minute. Keep quiet. Maybe I'm wrong. Could be it won't take that long. Two guys wearing headphones down by the other end just mouthed something.... called Franklin over. You could see from his face how important it was. The Old Patriot instantly stopped schmoozing all them potential immortality customers, turned his electric scooter around and tooled over for a look-see.

Tall guy with the headphones leans over and whispers - I hear old, classic Castillian. He's... he's saying something.......

That, it seems, is a very good sign, for the Old Reprobate smiles...


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thank you for coming. please COMMENT. talk about your sites too if you want. (but please no 'X-rated' stuff. some nice kids read this too). from time to time we tell you how we only pretend this is fiction. that's why I have to stop now. want to run down to the other end (the Grand Armonica is BIG) and see what's going on. I want Tomas, also known as Jonathon, back too.

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