Monday, January 19, 2015

THE EVENT... Papa Likes Drama... 1/19/15

And then we saw it... a pressure wave... a ripple in the air, or whatever passed for air in this place raced toward us... a tsunami made from ether. It tore the clouds asunder. Birds attempting to flee before it lit up like sparklers, as it passed. Sarah and I moved away from the raw, stone 'window' and hid under the bed. God knows it wouldn't have saved us.... a piece of wood shaving in the path of a blow torch. But I was still 'mortal' and she wanted to protect me, so we cowered there, under the huge, carved bed. Funny, what you notice. The illusion (what else could I call it?) was so complete, down to the spider patrolling her web beneath the bed slats. How calm she was... a black and yellow, glossy beauty, delicately knitting a bunting 'round what looked like a plump, green eyed marsh fly. Though upon closer inspection I saw it lacked the loathsome, insect mouth parts and instead had a neat, tiny Betty Boop arrangement, complete with lipstick and a little beauty mark affixed to its shell-like carapace. Was it looking at me? How could I tell with eyes like that? Besides, at any moment I expected to be incinerated and pulverized by the miles high wave. Sarah kissed me. I kissed her. We said our prayers and composed ourselves for the coming ordeal.

Then the tower began to vibrate. Stone resonates to a musical pitch when heated. I could almost hear it 'singing.' Maybe it was screaming. Next came the noise... a sky crushing roar, akin to the monstrous wail rising up from the depths of hell. I was deaf. Blood ran from my ears. Sarah's hands flew to hers, for she could still hear it. 

Blinding light sliced in through the narrow, open slit, blasting shards of stone from the opposite wall. Blisters rose on the backs of my hands. Sarah lay motionless as a corpse, her eyes glazed and 'lifeless.' Vampires face destruction differently, you know. The 'death' part has already been attended to.

And then it stopped. In an instant, in a micro instant it was over. The very stones of the place moaned and fell back into position. Outside, the crushing immensity of the pressure wave froze, each suspended particle of soil and dust contributing toward a translucent ocher hue. We crept out from under the bed and looked through the 'window.' A dead dragon hung there in the ether, it's heraldic countenance twisted and broken... how sad.

Two heartbeats later he spoke. I jumped. Sarah turned. 'Papa' was back, this time in the buckskin attire of a Scythian horseman. He pointed to the incredible sight outside and said - That is who I am..... Then he sighed and just like that, it was gone. All was made right. The highlands were green once more and songbirds swam through the air.... 'Papa' gestured toward Sarah and said - She does not burn. Your blisters are gone. And the stones are all healed...... I said - Is this all an illusion?..... No - answered my once and ostensibly future progenitor - More like a magical construct. Real, when I want it to be real and gone, when I want it to be gone. I was already 'quite formidable' the last time I brought you over. But a lot happens in a thousand years, not counting my brush with Madam Shang. I almost said 'time,' but it was far more complex than that....... I couldn't resist. I asked - Is what we have now 'real,' or is the whole thing also a construct?.... He looked away.... 'Magic' seems an inadequate word for such as this - I said.... 'Papa' nodded. Then he asked if I was ready. I know he meant 'ready' for the unimaginable abilities I'd receive in addition to his blood and I assured him that was so.

Thus it began... and Sarah was there to witness it all. I left this temporary mortal state behind. And Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, returned to what he was, guided by a miraculous being who many say resembles no one so much as a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere.

But he'll always be 'Papa' to me....

<more next time>


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