Monday, June 26, 2017

Jonathon In the Cave.. and World's Oldest Motion Picture (1865) and Oldest Sound Recording (1857)


As a vampire, I am usually immune to mortal magic, but the Talk-To-God man had me. He was adept at some sort of matter-temporal manipulation, or alteration, which is even more difficult to achieve. I was locked in place, my feet secure within the beaten clay floor of his cave, as if held in cement. Nothing moved. The small, reddish flame between us hung quiet and still, illuminating the evil smile on the face of my adversary... a tableau vivant in Le Grand Guignol ...

If you too are caught out of time. If you've missed our last get together, kindly click on OLDER POST at the bottom of this offering to see what previously transpired. Sound seemed frozen too. The crackle of the fire... the low, resonant echo of the shaman's voice... my own basically useless breath (vampires need no oxygen, but breathe out of habit) all ran together in a sort of 'hum.'

I came to The Pines to do a good deed, but fell into this nightmare instead. Let me see. How can I explain it?... Do you know those dreams mortals have? You're walking down a dark, street... maybe even your own street. No one else is around. There are no automobiles. No one comes and goes. Front doors are locked. Maybe the leaves on the trees produce a low, menacing hiss. But you keep going... Then you hear, or barely hear a mumble behind you. Somehow you manage to summon up a bit of courage and turn around. There in the even deeper shadows under a tree you pick out a shape. Someone stands there. Someone faces you. They don't move. You don't move. The dark shape takes a step. You turn  and do the same. The thing is, your body slows down. Every particle of your being seems heavier. Forward momentum is almost impossible. The foot steps behind you keep coming. You want to run, but you can't run. You try to scream. You can't scream. The footsteps get closer.... There's your house, just up ahead. There's your walkway. You turn. The footsteps stop. You fumble for your keys. The thing behind you just stands there, maybe thirty feet away, watching. You fumble some more and manage to get the key into the lock, but it sticks. It won't turn. The thing comes closer. Still no face. Just a thing... You and 'the thing' and the hissing of the leaves... The key turns. The door opens. You rush inside. No lights! No lights! The timer didn't work! You slam the door. You turn the deadbolt. But then, in the dark, the shape from the street begins to descend the stairs.

When 'magic' has you, magic has you. Nothing means anything. Either you find a way to fight it, or you're gone.

Then ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, the Talks-To-God man raised his hand and blew a gritty powder in my face. Each tiny particle danced through the light, as a wraith-like shape moved forth from a black, side passage, (the cave had many) stopped by the man and whispered in his ear.

I couldn't hear a word... but the message was very clear...

I was to be locked in time... like a fly in amber... No hope of escape... No hope at all...

Do you realize the man in that impossibly ancient 'video' up above was born during The War of 1812?... and what are the garbled 'words' on that even older recording?

<more to come>


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