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I scared you last time. Should never have come at you in that place and definitely not as a cadaverous child. Forgive me my excesses. But I have seen so many things and have a taste for drama - said the entity.
Jonathon simply sat in his chair and did not say a word. He just looked at the 'thing' seated across from him.... a wax facsimile of a nineteen thirties Groucho Marx. Apparently the entity filched it from a Madame Tussaud's somewhere... a slight parlor trick for one so powerful as he. But the joints were all broken now. That's how he was able to sit in the chair. Did he walk through the streets like that, all jingly and jangly like a puppet, or did he materialize by the door?... Edith let him in. You know she's something of a telepath. Unexpected spirit beings are nothing new to her.
Then the thing said - Please, I have had the floor long enough. Tell me of the mysteries you have seen. I'd like to learn more about you..... Jonathon inhaled. He hated watching it. The jaw... the lower mandible, barely moved. It just creaked up and down a bit, as words escaped into the ether. Apparently the interior armature supporting this classic, American comedian was metallic and not designed for speech.
Jonathon studied the fire and thought for a few heartbeats. Then he said - I have encountered beings, creatures more or less like myself, miles beneath the surface of the sea. We go there for the darkness, you know. And these immortal individuals communicate with no one, nor do they move. In some remote parts of the abyss they litter the seabed like statues... bleached white and motionless... naked images of what was once human. I see them only with the magic of vampire eyes. God knows what they see. Some lay with their faces in the sand... others haven't opened their eyes in centuries. Small white crabs scuttle over them, picking off errant barnacles and other trespassers. A few still need blood. On this world, our kind has an arrangement with the princes of the sea. And I speak not of merfolk, but of the cetacean nobility... From time to time a prince comes down... a huge sperm whale, perhaps eighty feet long. How gentle they can be... a living 'submarine' carefully hovering just above the teeth of a needy vampire. They could crush the thing, but they don't. And the blood drinker gets a meal, equal in volume to a full human life, but not as satisfying, for no death takes place. Imagine what transpires down in that icy, crushing darkness. The krakken (giant squid) hunts there too, you and merfolk search for huge, white pearls, big as baby's skulls.
How poetic - said the entity. Do you stay there long?..... No - said Jonathon. I don't. But I do go down from time to time...... Does it trouble you, the black, cold, isolation, I mean? - asked the Groucho thing...... Jonathon nodded..... My, how 'human' you are. How mortal. I like that. I can sense it. (and then, in a slightly more guttural tone) I need it. Will you help me?
Jonathon looked at the fire (the only light in the room) and didn't say a word.
Strange sounds emanated from the Groucho thing. Our Philadelphia vampirino looked up to see tears dripping from the dead glass eyes. The entity was crying.
Neither moved... Such a strange tableau... a trim, dark haired vampire and a broken, kidnapped wax figure, brushed by the glow of a pre-dawn fire.
Outside the city slept, trapped under a thin, cold shell of ice... as were so many other waiting things.....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sail through other seas... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... but before you click... ad a word... ANY word... then click... see where the wind takes you...
click HEARTH LIGHT to join me on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT down below. if you like my story, kindly tell your friends. thank you.
Jonathon simply sat in his chair and did not say a word. He just looked at the 'thing' seated across from him.... a wax facsimile of a nineteen thirties Groucho Marx. Apparently the entity filched it from a Madame Tussaud's somewhere... a slight parlor trick for one so powerful as he. But the joints were all broken now. That's how he was able to sit in the chair. Did he walk through the streets like that, all jingly and jangly like a puppet, or did he materialize by the door?... Edith let him in. You know she's something of a telepath. Unexpected spirit beings are nothing new to her.
Then the thing said - Please, I have had the floor long enough. Tell me of the mysteries you have seen. I'd like to learn more about you..... Jonathon inhaled. He hated watching it. The jaw... the lower mandible, barely moved. It just creaked up and down a bit, as words escaped into the ether. Apparently the interior armature supporting this classic, American comedian was metallic and not designed for speech.
Jonathon studied the fire and thought for a few heartbeats. Then he said - I have encountered beings, creatures more or less like myself, miles beneath the surface of the sea. We go there for the darkness, you know. And these immortal individuals communicate with no one, nor do they move. In some remote parts of the abyss they litter the seabed like statues... bleached white and motionless... naked images of what was once human. I see them only with the magic of vampire eyes. God knows what they see. Some lay with their faces in the sand... others haven't opened their eyes in centuries. Small white crabs scuttle over them, picking off errant barnacles and other trespassers. A few still need blood. On this world, our kind has an arrangement with the princes of the sea. And I speak not of merfolk, but of the cetacean nobility... From time to time a prince comes down... a huge sperm whale, perhaps eighty feet long. How gentle they can be... a living 'submarine' carefully hovering just above the teeth of a needy vampire. They could crush the thing, but they don't. And the blood drinker gets a meal, equal in volume to a full human life, but not as satisfying, for no death takes place. Imagine what transpires down in that icy, crushing darkness. The krakken (giant squid) hunts there too, you and merfolk search for huge, white pearls, big as baby's skulls.
How poetic - said the entity. Do you stay there long?..... No - said Jonathon. I don't. But I do go down from time to time...... Does it trouble you, the black, cold, isolation, I mean? - asked the Groucho thing...... Jonathon nodded..... My, how 'human' you are. How mortal. I like that. I can sense it. (and then, in a slightly more guttural tone) I need it. Will you help me?
Jonathon looked at the fire (the only light in the room) and didn't say a word.
Strange sounds emanated from the Groucho thing. Our Philadelphia vampirino looked up to see tears dripping from the dead glass eyes. The entity was crying.
Neither moved... Such a strange tableau... a trim, dark haired vampire and a broken, kidnapped wax figure, brushed by the glow of a pre-dawn fire.
Outside the city slept, trapped under a thin, cold shell of ice... as were so many other waiting things.....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sail through other seas... google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... but before you click... ad a word... ANY word... then click... see where the wind takes you...
click HEARTH LIGHT to join me on Twitter.
please leave a COMMENT down below. if you like my story, kindly tell your friends. thank you.
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