Sunday, May 3, 2015

DISEMBODIED SPIRITS SAY IT'S GONNA BE THAT KIND OF SUMMER .. 5/3/15

Jonathon hates May. The nights are too short... not enough dark time. Most vampires feel the same way... It's not just the taking of lives, or the blood. They need black, starry skies and big cheesy moons. Everything stands still in the wintertime. Everything is calm. He can walk for hours. No one bothers him. He can sit on a bench, staring up at a light in some apartment and lose himself in a Zen-like trance. 

Summer is different. True night, at least to vampire eyes, comes so late and dawn is even worse. Baylah knows. She feels it too. That's why she likes the shore. Moonlight on the waves seems to magnify everything.... a short night, but a perfect one.

Jonathon disappears into the tunnels... the deep ones, far below the subways, where the mole-folk live. Sarah knows. He swears he doesn't 'couple' with Aura or Sylvia, the mole-king's daughters. He used to, but lately he hasn't. No more long, slow sponge baths in candlelit, ruined restrooms ( the deep, deep tunnels are remnants of never used subway lines). They share a hookah. They talk. They wander through pitch dark, maze-like passageways. Once in a while he brings down a captive, a bad soul destined for 'culling.' The mole-folk love watching vampires feed. Spotty illumination from scattered cans of Sterno adds just the right touch. The victim mumbles. They tremble. Some run. He catches them. The crowd cheers. Then all grow silent, as he drinks up the life.

Nights feel longer down there. Jonathon likes that.

Sarah sits back at the townhouse with Annie, listening to the ramblings of her sly, old, wizened, mortal grandfather. He still goes on about the public-leg-shaving girls of Old Berlin. Edith makes 'crazy' circles 'round her ear with her index finger. But who knows? Old and semi senile he may be. Still, he does have money. God knows what he's seen. 

Sarah gives him a few drops of her blood as a restorative. He quiets down and stares at the cold, dark fireplace.... Edith goes - Hey, old man, you want a smoked turkey breast sandwich?.... He shrugs ... She makes him one and serves it on a genuine nineteen forty nine Russell Wright dish. Vampires have stuff like that. Baylah says she's got the thigh bone of noted, ancient Judean princess, Salome. Who knows? Maybe she does?

I know you've been reading about an 'alternate' Earth ruled by heartless, demonic aliens... and you might read about them again. We got more disembodied, spirit narrators floating around this place than Carter's got liver pills. (you know what that means?) And each one's got a story to push. What? You think only 'live' people want to direct?

You know where Jonathon is? He's walking home... Might not get there for a few more hours, but he's on his way. There's a lot of kids on the street this time of year. I don't know. They never sleep. No, they do sleep... from 7AM to 3PM. Jonathon 'haunts' them. Lets them see him do strange things, like sublimate through a bus stop shelter, or levitate up into the sky til he disappears. They scream... They run... New urban legends are born.

I got a feeling it's gonna be that kind of summer.....

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