Sunday, June 14, 2015


The two vampires returned from their rounds. Baylah and Jonathon crept into the beachfront residence of her wealthy, mortal man friend and joined Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah in the sun room. No one spoke. Paranormal folk speak only when necessary, for they have other means of communication, more visceral and true.

The old, Lucid Wanderer, known as Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah sighed and whispered - It is as it always was. Goodness and justice is out there, though elusive and hard to find, while bitter fruit litters the ground. You did your part. You helped people... and The Universe knows that. Then, just before dawn, the two night-folk went to their shuttered rooms, there to spend the day. Baylah slept soundly. Jonathon dozed fitfully, accompanied by piped in Broadway scores. First came Bali Hai... Next came Camelot... Third, I think was Gravity... Not the cosmic force... the song from Wicked.

The house awakened. Baylah's rich, mortal consort went fishing. You should see his boat. The Red Paint gentleman strolled the beach, dropping baubles where old grammpy-men with metal detectors could find them. The housekeeper gambled from her smart phone in the kitchen, as gulls wheeled over all.

And based on the deeds of that special night, perhaps two, three or four posts ago, our planet is just a little bit safer. A certain number of selfish souls are gone. The breath of 'Mother Earth' is cooled. The 'culling' was successful... thanks to the vampires. You can always trust the night-folk.

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The Vampire Wonderland is very real. Our old friends know that. They're citizens of Wonderland too, as are we all.

Maybe vampires go a bit crazy this time of year. Darkness is a rarity and they relish what they have. Strange magic simmers to the surface. Elferinos and Elferinas flash over moonlit lakes. Cherubs make merry with the aged.

When next this day shines bright again, Midsummer's Night's Eve falls upon us. The Enchanted Bard, known as Shakespeare (a borrowed night-folk name) knew it and deep within your bodies, you do too.

What manner of revelry appeals to you? What games will you play on this shortest night of the year? Are you open to it?

A boy in Michigan (Upper Peninsula, I think) once cracked an egg into a cast iron pan on Midsummer's Night and found a curled up little man with wings. Whether or not the pan was sizzling, I do not know. But he and his cohorts were deep in the North Woods, where such things regularly happen. The second egg had a tiny, little, beautiful centaur woman in it, all glistening and covered in yolk. I'm thinking they must have been organic.

OK, you've been warned. There's a week to go. Plan something. Conjure something. Howl at the moon. Bewitch somebody. Midsummer's Night... Don't waste it. Taste it.

And don't worry about who I am....
Worry 'bout who you are...


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