Thursday, January 7, 2016


The next night, Jonathon went with the elferinos. They soared over the January city. Vampirinos possess not true flight, as do Elferinos. They can sublimate through the air, but do not glide upon it. To an observer, both methods seem the same, though to night-folk they are not.

He likes to vault high above the noise and float there... like a leaf on an infinite sea, staring up into the void. Sometimes a meteor streaks by... sometimes a tiny, artificial moon. Mortals would be terrified by the immensity of it all, but not vampires... not life-eaters like Jonathon.

This night (the one we speak of now) a small, sleek, propeller driven, four passenger plane, probably a Beechcraft, whizzed by just above him. I don't know what the pilot thought when he saw what looked like a young, wavy haired, Spaniard all bundled up in black, tailored, quilted leather waving up at him. Maybe it was hard to see him with the bright lights of the city down below? But I'm just guessing. In an effort to avoid a collision, the poor man pulled all the way back on the wheel, causing the plane to break up, as it fell in a nose over tail spin. The unfortunate man, the only one on board, was dead by the time he hit Broad Street. The bus that ran over him right after was completely redundant. And the almost-a-crack-head slacker dude sitting in the torture-the-driver seat across the aisle screamed like a little girl, as the doll-like corpse came tumbling down.

A few minutes later, Jonathon came down to earth, executing a neat, right foot first landing worthy of a ballerino, but as this happened on an impossibly narrow street lined with incredibly cute little 'mews' houses, no one saw but the cats and you know how hard it is to impress them.

Soon after, he re-joined the elferinos and elferinas (picture early teen, waif-like street kids, a la the junior revolutionaries in Les Miserables) in the sculpture garden of The Rodin Museum, a favorite spot. They liked the walled privacy. Tiny bits of illumination hidden in the grass, or among the trees daubed  the bronze statues in a low, yellow light. The 'elf' folk, two males and two females, Roland, Albion, Marianne and Celeste, condense from the shadows. Jonathon follows them to an exceptionally dark corner, where they sit upon the dry, cold grass and talk. Night-folk can have exceptionally quiet voices when they want to. You might mistake them for whispering leaves, if the trees still had leaves.

Jonathon tells them of his 'plans.' Elferinos and elferinas look young, but the ones here in Philadelphia are mostly three hundred years old or more and not English. They hail from the Low Countries, victims of seventeenth and eighteenth century witch hunts. I think if you GOOGLE ~~ Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, Marianne In Britches, you'll find a way into one of our most popular story arcs, where you can read all about it.

Roland, a stalwart 'lad,' says - Jonathon, don't you like it here?.... He shrugs, nods and shrugs again.... They understand. No one talks. Celeste sings an old Walloon song.

Back at the Townhouse, Edith (the witchy-woman, housekeeper) makes a call to Mister Edith, over in The Jersey Pines and the next day that venerable, ancient, vellum text, known as La Ciencia Vampirismo, is brought back to the city.....

Perhaps it contains some answers?

<more next time>


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