Tomas Watches Peter Pan on TV and Recounts Le Avventure di Fauno .. 12/5/14

He woke up. Tomas was awake. Not completely. Still a bit drowsy. But he knew his name and he knew where he was. Sarah was with him when it happened. The television was on. No, sound, but it was on. Peter Pan. A nurse did it. Sarah didn't care. She just sat and dozed. They gave her a carafe, not a whole one, more like a half, of some kind of white wine. But she didn't want it. Guy who brought it in meant well. She thanked him. 

Tomas noticed the tv screen. Saw Peter Pan fly, or something like that. Gave her a half smile and said - Fauno. Le avventure di Fauno..... Sarah said - What, Tomas? What did you say?..... He said - I know the story.... Then he drifted off again. He closed his eyes, but continued to whisper......

When I first come into this. El mundo vampirido, I mean. There was a place, some woods. I don't know where, but the people spoke Italian. Like an old Italian. Dante, la lingua di Dante. I know it. Not like I know Old Spanish, or Vahmperigo, or... the other (trembles) 'talks' I know. The girl, the skinny boy-girl they got dancing around on the television, she is the Fauno, il Fauno. Very big famous star of many stories. You tell me. You tell me. I am mortal, or vampirino?

Sarah inhaled and said - You are mortal, Tomas..... He says - Why do you call me that name? I am not Tomas. I am Jonathon ben Macabi. Not Tomas..... Sarah guessed he remembered the earliest parts of his life first. Doctor Franklin and the others said that would happen. He always vacillated between the two names anyway. That's how it was in Europe. In one town you can be a Jew. It was alright. Not easy, but they don't kill you. Next town, they kill you maybe. So people have inside names and outside names. They all do it. Not just the Jews. You travel. You go out on the roads. They stick a big pin in your neck. Not a pin. More like a skinny spike. Vein, or artery, or whatever you got bust open. Blood shoot out, or squirt  down your throat and you die. They take your money. They rape your wife. They sell your children. If they don't wanna feed no children til they sell them, they throw them down a well. Not a wet well, a dry well. Head smash open. Neck break. No more that kid. It was a custom. Then, after wife all raped up, they throw her too. You know it is not good to separate a mama from her children? Everybody knows that. So people got a home name and a road name. Road name make them look like a big shot. Like a gentleman. Got a fancy cloak. Got a scroll, got a parchment from some bishop. Says you helping the bishop. All stamped. Red wax and everything. Only you got a brother-in-law make it up for you. Some bastards scared to kill big shots. They take the money, but you live. Everybody lied back then. Nobody likes getting killed.

Who am I? Well, let me tell you. I am a disembodied spirit. We narrate from time to time. If you know this story, you know us. We got Johannon and Zebulon and Mister Never-You-Mind. Got other ones too. Right now, you don't have to know my name.

Jonathon wants to be vampirino again. He dreams about it. Thought it happened already. But that was just an illusion while he was dead. Dead folks think of all kinds a crazy shit. They don't know. Angel go - Yo, asshole! Shut up! You in Heaven already! They don't know. They scared.

Jonathon watches the show. He goes - Why he fly like that? Il Fauno don't fly like that. He go fast. He go smooth. He go high.

Sarah says - It's a story. That's not real. Il Fauno is an elferino (pubescent vampire), yes?..... Jonathon nods. He smiles. He likes the story.

Sarah gets up and sits on the side of his bed. She kiss his hand.... He says - I like you. You a nice lady..... She says - And I like you a lot too.

Little by little he gets better.

When the funny pirate-man dance around he laughs

Sarah laughs too...

<more next time>

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A Midsummer Night's Dream - Can Come In The Depths of Winter. ..THE BOY IN THE BOX SPEAKS 2/16/14

That evening, when the sun went down, the strange night-folk boy from the leaden box woke first. He straightened up all the towels, but could not wash them, as the technology of our age confounded him. Faucets and spigots were unknown in his time. Water came from wells. Though he did conjure a bit of magic to fold the cot and stow away any other things the teacher's wife gave them. Then he peeled off the silver duct tape, took down the carefully folded, black ,plastic trash bags and peered through the window. Since it was set high, near the ceiling, he hovered up off the floor, the better to see out. 


When the elferina, Marianne awoke, she saw him up there, illuminated by a few weak rays coming in from the streetlight on the corner. How his eyes glowed and his back was straighter now....... What is this? - he said..... And he flew off to the switch flicking it on and off three or four times in quick succession...... That's the light. - she said..... Her answer puzzled him. He thought for a moment and asked - Where is the fire?..... She laughed. Marianne knew what he meant, for her life too began in another place and another time long before our own...... She said - Parle vous Anglais? ..... The newly freed elferino said - Is that what this is? I found the sounds in your soul and used them...... My, you are a powerful night-boy. - Marianne added.... But he just settled down on top of the matching, front loading washer and dryer and thought.


Where am I? - asked the elferino. Who sits on the throne of France? Why do I not smell horses?..... Marianne told him. She said - You are in a town by the shore of the Atlantic Sea in the Grand Republic of The United States of America. The magic you see all around you is called 'electricity,' based on the alchemy of the American Patriot, Doctor Benjamin Franklin. The retired teacher, the man upstairs, whose house this is, is a Jew. And the woman, his wife, is a Jew too....... Nooo!? - said the young elferino. For in his time The Revolution, the storming of le Bastille had not yet come and Juifs were scared, quiet, silent beings in dark, narrow streets and ghettos..... What year is it? - asked the elferino..... Twenty fourteen. - said the elferina..... Her new companion gasped, made some mental calculations and said - Two hundred and thirty nine years? I was sealed in that horrid cube for two hundred and thirty nine years?..... She nodded and he began to laugh as one insane...... Are you hungry? - said Marianne....What do you think? - asked the more than four hundred year old being. His body was the body of a twelve year old, for that was his age when the 'burden' fell upon him.

The retired teacher hurried down the steps and came up to the other side of the laundry room door and knocked..... Excuse me. Is it alright if I open this? - he asked.... Yes - said the elferina.... He did and said - Can I put on the light?.... Then he held out a pair of sunglasses - These are for the boy.... The light coming in through the window, feeble as it was, allowed them to see a little bit. The boy took the sunglasses and examined them. The man said - Spectacles. A type of spectacle. Smoked glass, or something like glass. They soften the light. Put them on. you'll see....... The elferino did. Then the man switched on the light. The elferino looked over the frames, raised them up, looked over the frames again, raised them up again and laughed. Marianne laughed too.... You look like the boy in Risky Business, but thinner. - she said...... What is 'Risky Business?' - he asked.......... Oh, do you have a lot to learn. - she sighed...... Then they said 'bon nuit' to the retired teacher, opened the back door with the small, high window and ran out into the semi-deserted, dark, winter, shore town night. The man wanted to yell. He wanted to say 'Wait! Wait! Take a scarf. Take a hat, some sweat shirts, some gloves!' But he could not. Some houses had people in them and he did not want to attract any attention.

So the two supernatural beings raced down the two thirds empty street, passed neat coastal houses shuttered for the winter, though some were not so shuttered and had fragrant smoke rising from their chimneys. 

After a quick sublimation through the exterior wall of a closed for the evening sportswear shop, they exited wrapped in warm fleece, wool caps and everything else necessary to beat back the chill. Marianne wrote down the address. Her 'familiar' would send them more than enough cash. 

The boy told her his name, Peter, or Robin, or Pan, or some such thing like that and of his nativity in sixteenth century Brittany. Then they took to the air (elferinos and elferinas can achieve true flight, you know) and headed south, toward the bright lights of Atlantic City just over the horizon.

I'm sure he'll find a nice dinner there...

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