Thursday, January 29, 2015

Jonathon Sees Horrific Sights ... 1/29/15

Sarah spent her nights in the bookshop. She liked Philadelphia After Dark. Why not? She created it. Oh, don't think she leave and wander about. But she always goes back. Helps straighten up the place. Dusts what has to be dusted and all that. 

She visits the hospitals around 11PM. They change shifts then. It's easier to slip in and slip out. You know how they dim the lights after visiting hours. Staff retreats to the nurses' stations. Docs pretend to be so engrossed in paperwork. Some are. Others play act. God forbid some concerned family member tries to ask them a question. I mean... how do they bill for that?

Sarah silently glides into darkened rooms leaving droplets of her healing blood upon the lips of drugged and dying people. She bites into a fingertip and lets the magic drip down. Most so blessed get better. Their people thank the doctors.

Should a nurse come in and catch her there, she sublimates. Sarah's good at that. She 'disappears' through a wall, usually an exterior wall, and floats down toward the pavement, or perhaps a tiny, landscaped garden. Sometimes her victims, the souls she culls, never know she was there. Female vampires, vampirinas, are often like that. They come upon the victim while they sleep. Evil people rest too, you know. It doesn't take long. She drinks the life, waits for the 'cool' blue flame and leaves. Did you think vampires drag victims around and leave them in dumpsters? Only in stories... not in real life. The blue flame doesn't leave much. Sometimes a bit of bone... a left over toe... some greasy residue..... If you've been with us for a while, you know. 'Spontaneous Human Combustion'-- that's what they call it.... But there's no such thing as that. Night-folk made it up. Makes things so much easier. 

Well, that's how Sarah does it. She's neat, clean and discreet. Actually, most vampires are like that. Gory, dripping, lurid fangs and snarling lips are just in stories too. God, what they say about vampires.

Tomas lives a fairly regular existence too. Though occasionally things happen. This night he went into an old hotel... a shuttered building waiting to be demolished. A decrepit flop house actually... creaking, sagging floors... cracked plaster... barren, empty rooms.... and darker than you can ever imagine. People go in looking for shelter. Most stay near a door, or window. Fast escapes are pivotal. Tomas distributes silver dollars. I mean real silver dollars. They're easy to sell. Most go for fifteen or sixteen times face value. And no one bothers him. They don't even talk. People know him. Not that they know what he is. They just know he's different. Hell, the place is sticky with ghosts. But the homeless have their own demons. There's 'Orange Eyes.'..... Two reflective, wide open, expressionless eyes that just peer out from pitch black rooms. 'Laughing Man' is another one.... Low sinister, manic sounds. No one's ever seen him, but some have felt the bites. Vampires are intrigued with spirits and ghosts of all types. Not that they run after them. But they're curious. The night has many secrets. 

Tomas makes his way down a narrow interior passage. A bit of light fans out from an open door. There are no window shades on this floor. People take them for the plastic. They spread what blankets they have and bed down on it. Keeps out the cold. He stops and looks in the room. The light is ambient light... city light... from everywhere and nowhere... A dull, grey, winter wash from the sky.

He sees a small dead body in the corner. It has to be dead. No living thing could lay broken and twisted like that... A child perhaps? Homeless children suffer terribly. Then he hears scuffing against the floor, as the feet begin to move. The arms stiffen. He hears bone grind against bone. The think sits up. Is it staring at him? Hard to tell. Then it rises to its feet, as if pulled by strings. Indeed, it walks much like a marionette... stumbling... trembling.... The mouth hangs slack and open. Tomas knows he can get away. He knows he can sublimate through the place, out into the open air, but yet he doesn't.... The thing points at him.... a withered, almost fleshless arm... Lank hair hangs from the skull.... A voice, not a child's voice, but a voice, emanates from just behind the corpse... It says - Kiss me. Moisten my lips. Share the blood... Share the blood... Share the blood.... then it lunges toward him. He recoils and pulls away, backing out into the passageway. The thing bobs, bounces and jerks after him, passing from blackest shadow to somewhat less gradations of darkness. Tomas rises up, his black, leather bootkins inches from the floor and glides back down the hall. The thing trips and falls, but keeps racing toward him, as if scraped along the floorboards by a giant hand....He still hears the words - Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me..... Then he slams against the wall, desperately trying to keep his feet from the dead things grasp. He screams. Seconds later, his body instinctively sublimates through the plaster and masonry, exiting six stories up over the street. For a moment he hangs suspended, then crashes down upon the roof of a Nissan Altima, killing the driver before scrambling off and disappearing down an alley.

But the thing knew him now. It had his scent and felt his resonance.

'Laughing Man' begins to cackle....

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