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THE ELFERINO, ALBION, CONTINUES~~~
I lived with the Indians in the early days. They called me windago and I did favors for them. I killed then. That's when I killed. I know I told you how elferinos rarely drain a person to the point of death. But if the person is small we can do it. If we drain them little by little over time we can kill them too. That's what I did. They'd imprison an enemy in the 'dead box,' a tiny, log cabin-like structure. Similar to a log cabin telephone booth, if you can remember what they were. Every night, just after 'night piss' (when braves habitually wake up to reconnoiter the village and pass water) I'd go over to the box, open a little door and bite 'em. At first they'd thrash about and bang their shaved head against the rough walls. But I tapped them anyway. After a few nights they were too weak to do anything. Some moaned a little, but that's all. Sometimes I kissed them, mumbled a prayer, told them not to worry. I knew a bit of Indian patois... really quite a bit. When the victim was European, I spoke French or Dutch... later English. They listened. They sobbed. They died.
And the Indians gave me fine glass beads...delicate suede garments... lynx cloaks and raccoon skin hats. Davy Crockett never looked as good. I had costly English clothes too, pilfered from rich, Philadelphia houses. But I liked my life in the woods. I had a cave. That was my place. Google Vampire Wonderland, the Talks To God Man, if you want to know what it was like. Burned fat, tallow candles in natural, rocky niches. Had a domesticated, or maybe just merely mesmerized, mountain lion called Le Chat. Elferino blood was like catnip to him. I gave him droplets every now and then to see him stretch and purr. Once he ate a chief's baby, but I had nothing to do with that.
The trees were so thick and green... the ground so fragrant and moist. You think bottled water is clean and pure? You should have tasted the Wissahickon. That was clean. Like cold, liquid glass. Night-folk can imbibe clear liquids. That's how I know. I bathed in it too. Running water rarely freezes and cold doesn't harm me... just another sensation. I washed by moonlight. Some of the Indians would sneak out to watch. I didn't care. I knew they were there, but vampires are vain... elferinos and elferinas even more so...
That's when I discovered I could fly... back in those early nights, I mean. I'd rise from my icy bath and streak toward the stars. Ordinary vampires appear to fly, but they can't. Vampirinas and vamperinos sublimate through the air. There's a difference. They actually 'climb' each molecule, whereas we truly fly, even through a vacuum. Do I know why that is?... No, but as you have probably heard, the 'magic' settles different on each and every one of us. Doctor Franklin has his theories, but no one understands why.
Did you know Celeste and I did a magic act at the old Arch Street Theater? Think eighteenth century vaudeville. We'd fly about... read some minds... plant images... create mass hysteria. Jonathon saw us. Told us to be more discreet. But nothing ever happened. Even then he was thick with the powers that be and he looked out for us. Rondo and Alice we were called... two gothic harlequins on the stage. We had fun. Some called us demons. People say a lot of things...
The building's still there. Old pockets survive all over town. God, I love this place.
Come back next time. I'll show you some ghosts... Just make sure you don't address them by name...
No, really... You have to promise....
Don't do that...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for more episodes of Vampire Wonderland click PIXILATED MYSTERY ...
to join me on TWITTER, click THE DRUNKEN SKULL ...
please COMMENT... thank you....
I lived with the Indians in the early days. They called me windago and I did favors for them. I killed then. That's when I killed. I know I told you how elferinos rarely drain a person to the point of death. But if the person is small we can do it. If we drain them little by little over time we can kill them too. That's what I did. They'd imprison an enemy in the 'dead box,' a tiny, log cabin-like structure. Similar to a log cabin telephone booth, if you can remember what they were. Every night, just after 'night piss' (when braves habitually wake up to reconnoiter the village and pass water) I'd go over to the box, open a little door and bite 'em. At first they'd thrash about and bang their shaved head against the rough walls. But I tapped them anyway. After a few nights they were too weak to do anything. Some moaned a little, but that's all. Sometimes I kissed them, mumbled a prayer, told them not to worry. I knew a bit of Indian patois... really quite a bit. When the victim was European, I spoke French or Dutch... later English. They listened. They sobbed. They died.
And the Indians gave me fine glass beads...delicate suede garments... lynx cloaks and raccoon skin hats. Davy Crockett never looked as good. I had costly English clothes too, pilfered from rich, Philadelphia houses. But I liked my life in the woods. I had a cave. That was my place. Google Vampire Wonderland, the Talks To God Man, if you want to know what it was like. Burned fat, tallow candles in natural, rocky niches. Had a domesticated, or maybe just merely mesmerized, mountain lion called Le Chat. Elferino blood was like catnip to him. I gave him droplets every now and then to see him stretch and purr. Once he ate a chief's baby, but I had nothing to do with that.
The trees were so thick and green... the ground so fragrant and moist. You think bottled water is clean and pure? You should have tasted the Wissahickon. That was clean. Like cold, liquid glass. Night-folk can imbibe clear liquids. That's how I know. I bathed in it too. Running water rarely freezes and cold doesn't harm me... just another sensation. I washed by moonlight. Some of the Indians would sneak out to watch. I didn't care. I knew they were there, but vampires are vain... elferinos and elferinas even more so...
That's when I discovered I could fly... back in those early nights, I mean. I'd rise from my icy bath and streak toward the stars. Ordinary vampires appear to fly, but they can't. Vampirinas and vamperinos sublimate through the air. There's a difference. They actually 'climb' each molecule, whereas we truly fly, even through a vacuum. Do I know why that is?... No, but as you have probably heard, the 'magic' settles different on each and every one of us. Doctor Franklin has his theories, but no one understands why.
Did you know Celeste and I did a magic act at the old Arch Street Theater? Think eighteenth century vaudeville. We'd fly about... read some minds... plant images... create mass hysteria. Jonathon saw us. Told us to be more discreet. But nothing ever happened. Even then he was thick with the powers that be and he looked out for us. Rondo and Alice we were called... two gothic harlequins on the stage. We had fun. Some called us demons. People say a lot of things...
The building's still there. Old pockets survive all over town. God, I love this place.
Come back next time. I'll show you some ghosts... Just make sure you don't address them by name...
No, really... You have to promise....
Don't do that...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for more episodes of Vampire Wonderland click PIXILATED MYSTERY ...
to join me on TWITTER, click THE DRUNKEN SKULL ...
please COMMENT... thank you....
1 comment:
I just love when characters recollect things from their past. I found his thank god statement a bit humorous considering hes anything but good and the mention of Philadelphia houses a bit out there. I mean what Vampire would ever end up in Philly, lol
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