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I watched a meteor streak across the late night sky. Such arbitrary things they are. A man on the television said it came from this solar system's asteroid belt and weighed five hundred pounds. I suppose that equals the weight of three or four women, depending on food intake and other variables. If it tore into a city many thousands would have died. But this soulless thing skipped over the atmosphere like a stone. Millions saw the light, though none burned.
To me, with my limited spirit vision it looked different. I saw a dark, dark gaseous streak slice across a white, white sky. How I missed the real thing. I've stitched myself into physical bodies before... too many times to count, if I want to be truthful... and not all of them were human, or even human-ish. I am an old, old spirit, divorced from my true form for eons. What does that word mean? Who cares?
But now I am among you, eyeing the one who channels this... the one they call 'Billy.' Look at him. He knows not what he types. I control the fingers. I 'talk' to the tiny brains within each and every cell. I whisper into nucleic ears and tell them what to do. Thus fingers bend and muscles move. The words appear and you read it.
Jonathon thinks I've gone, or at least become dormant. Maybe he knows better, but he hopes. He and Sarah go out at night to do whatever night-folk do. They have a routine... one killing per month. Two actually... one for him and one for her. I don't pay much attention to them. Maybe they do it on a full moon, or a new moon? I don't know. Some nights they just walk around doing good deeds. Last night she gave a homeless woman a three and a half carat, pillow cut, high grade diamond ring. Vampires come by so many strange things. They got a little pickled baby-thing in a glass globe. Guess the artisan fashioned each half independently, laid the tiny dead thing inside and stuck the other half on top. Maybe he had a little tube... glass or rubber. Maybe he stuck it in and pinched it between the two halves... dripped brine, or something like brine through it... could be alcohol. Maybe he made a little notch in each half so the embalming fluid could go through and patched it all up after. You can still see tiny bubbles in there (they all stick together... about the size of a dime)... stay near the uppermost part of the globe, which since it is a globe changes depending on how it was positioned. I look at it a lot. How smooth the seam is. Like an almost invisible equator going 'round a dead, little baby prison. None of them know how old it is either. Did I tell you that? But I know....
Egypt wasn't the first place. Sumeria wasn't either. Earth people built lots of old cities. Human minds just work that way. Stones are hard. Stones are strong. You stack them up in a careful manner, you get a fort, or a palace, or something like that. You can smooth them off... make them square... even pave the street. Soon you have quite a place. Basket weavers say - Hey, maybe we can do the same with corn silk, or some kind of other plant crap, as we do with reeds. After trial and error, the textile trade was born. So cities are no big thing. People always made them. Well, for about fifty thousand revolutions of this world around its sun they made them. That bubble-baby's from one of the early ones... Some place in the Caucus Mountains.
Took a body there once. Got used to it. Took a lot of bodies. Girl bodies.. Boy bodies... Old men... Soldiers. Zipped right in. Had my fun. Zipped right out. They're dead when I leave. Soul never comes back. I don't know where it goes. Maybe they're not dead? Maybe they're something else?
Every once in a while I have what feels like a dream. I see a very different place. It's got plants, but not like your plants. And trees, but not like your trees. I smell things... the dirt... what grows... what dies. And I see a reflection in a little pond. It doesn't look like you... not like a human, I mean. Looks like a baby bird, or a praying mantis, or something like that. A voice in the back of my 'head' says 'that's you.'
How nice the colors are in those dreams... like what I see through other people's eyes. Maybe I'll see them soon? Just zip in and take over. Won't be no permanent habitation. I've still not learned how to work that trick. It's why I hover around vampires. They know so much, even if they're not aware of it. But I can still commandeer a body for a while.
Billy just types and types. At times he's actually sleeping. But he still types. I haven't had a tall body like him in a while. I like tall bodies. I can take bigger steps... walk faster... see more places.
I do not mean him any sort of personal harm, but you tell me... what am I supposed to do?
Wonder what it feels like to sit in a chair? Been a while. I forget. I like this townhouse. I like this old neighborhood. Why can't I live here for a while?
I have needs too.
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
taste over 1,600 episodes. click NIGHT-FOLK ... and see...... join me on Twitter. click THE TIME LINE ... please leave a comment and if you like the material please tell others. tell them to google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz or something like that. thank you.
To me, with my limited spirit vision it looked different. I saw a dark, dark gaseous streak slice across a white, white sky. How I missed the real thing. I've stitched myself into physical bodies before... too many times to count, if I want to be truthful... and not all of them were human, or even human-ish. I am an old, old spirit, divorced from my true form for eons. What does that word mean? Who cares?
But now I am among you, eyeing the one who channels this... the one they call 'Billy.' Look at him. He knows not what he types. I control the fingers. I 'talk' to the tiny brains within each and every cell. I whisper into nucleic ears and tell them what to do. Thus fingers bend and muscles move. The words appear and you read it.
Jonathon thinks I've gone, or at least become dormant. Maybe he knows better, but he hopes. He and Sarah go out at night to do whatever night-folk do. They have a routine... one killing per month. Two actually... one for him and one for her. I don't pay much attention to them. Maybe they do it on a full moon, or a new moon? I don't know. Some nights they just walk around doing good deeds. Last night she gave a homeless woman a three and a half carat, pillow cut, high grade diamond ring. Vampires come by so many strange things. They got a little pickled baby-thing in a glass globe. Guess the artisan fashioned each half independently, laid the tiny dead thing inside and stuck the other half on top. Maybe he had a little tube... glass or rubber. Maybe he stuck it in and pinched it between the two halves... dripped brine, or something like brine through it... could be alcohol. Maybe he made a little notch in each half so the embalming fluid could go through and patched it all up after. You can still see tiny bubbles in there (they all stick together... about the size of a dime)... stay near the uppermost part of the globe, which since it is a globe changes depending on how it was positioned. I look at it a lot. How smooth the seam is. Like an almost invisible equator going 'round a dead, little baby prison. None of them know how old it is either. Did I tell you that? But I know....
Egypt wasn't the first place. Sumeria wasn't either. Earth people built lots of old cities. Human minds just work that way. Stones are hard. Stones are strong. You stack them up in a careful manner, you get a fort, or a palace, or something like that. You can smooth them off... make them square... even pave the street. Soon you have quite a place. Basket weavers say - Hey, maybe we can do the same with corn silk, or some kind of other plant crap, as we do with reeds. After trial and error, the textile trade was born. So cities are no big thing. People always made them. Well, for about fifty thousand revolutions of this world around its sun they made them. That bubble-baby's from one of the early ones... Some place in the Caucus Mountains.
Took a body there once. Got used to it. Took a lot of bodies. Girl bodies.. Boy bodies... Old men... Soldiers. Zipped right in. Had my fun. Zipped right out. They're dead when I leave. Soul never comes back. I don't know where it goes. Maybe they're not dead? Maybe they're something else?
Every once in a while I have what feels like a dream. I see a very different place. It's got plants, but not like your plants. And trees, but not like your trees. I smell things... the dirt... what grows... what dies. And I see a reflection in a little pond. It doesn't look like you... not like a human, I mean. Looks like a baby bird, or a praying mantis, or something like that. A voice in the back of my 'head' says 'that's you.'
How nice the colors are in those dreams... like what I see through other people's eyes. Maybe I'll see them soon? Just zip in and take over. Won't be no permanent habitation. I've still not learned how to work that trick. It's why I hover around vampires. They know so much, even if they're not aware of it. But I can still commandeer a body for a while.
Billy just types and types. At times he's actually sleeping. But he still types. I haven't had a tall body like him in a while. I like tall bodies. I can take bigger steps... walk faster... see more places.
I do not mean him any sort of personal harm, but you tell me... what am I supposed to do?
Wonder what it feels like to sit in a chair? Been a while. I forget. I like this townhouse. I like this old neighborhood. Why can't I live here for a while?
I have needs too.
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
taste over 1,600 episodes. click NIGHT-FOLK ... and see...... join me on Twitter. click THE TIME LINE ... please leave a comment and if you like the material please tell others. tell them to google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz or something like that. thank you.
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