VAMPIRE ALLIES BEGIN TO ASSEMBLE ......... 4/28/13

Jonathon hung suspended in a dark gray void. He occupied space, but felt nothing. Thoughts were nebulous at best. He had no name, nor was he self aware. He existed. Perhaps rocks and snow storms feel this way? 

Tomorrow they'll begin the transfer. His blood, now within the body of the old man, will come back to him. Every particle of his being will grab hold of it and his physical form will be restored. Powers will re-ignite and four hundred thousand dreams shall dance again. That which is now but a papery lantern will shine.

Such is the enchanted recipe necessary for vampiric birth. But this is not a love story, or even one of lust. A violation happens here, unless someone can stop it.

The old billionaire, known as Tobias Maxwell eats soup. Seafood Lorraine, I think it is.... a rich, velvety, shrimp and lobster bisque.  He loves the stuff. And where, before, it would dribble down his trembling chin and onto a loose, flabby paunch, now it stays inside him.... and he says - ahhhh. Even the first step of night-folk transformation has benefits. 

While a mile away, 'Papa's' body sits in the usual place. He stares at the flat screen. Some home restoration program, I think it is. Annie, his vampire descendant, colors on the floor. This is a new one..... The Kardashian Sisters Go To The Czech Republic, I believe. Kim wears a bikini and a fur coat, as she leads the singing in a lively beer hall.

And then he mumbles something. For the first time in months, 'Papa' talks. The words are not important. No one knows what he said. Edith, their Piney woman, seer, friend and housekeeper goes - It's that ugly light fixture what done it (referring to a retro, 'Memphis,' monstrosity on TV). But she's only guessing...... Annie goes - Who the hell cares, you fat, old bitch... as she colors Kim's belly a vivid green..... But Edith isn't listening. She watches 'Papa's' eyes come back to life. He sees something ..... and it's very far away.

Half a billion miles hence the 'diamonds' start to dance. Tiny iridescent lifeforms, somewhat like sea slugs, though also resembling eels, undulate through the Pan Europan Sea. And 'Papa' swims with friends. Stately ray-like beings glide toward the ice-crust roof, there to dine on hanging moss-like gardens. Bio-luminescence lights this cloistered world. Every soul doth shine. Some glow green and others blue. A few pulse red and white. ..... And the ray-king communicates with his spirit guest. He tells 'Papa' things. He tells him of home. But, in truth, 'Papa' knows too. Jonathon needs help and 'Papa' is coming.....

The call goes out on the Human Home World (also known as Earth) too. Mole-folk whisper and congregate. They stream through tunnels toward a rendezvous in the dark. Perhaps Jonathon feels it? Or, maybe, he does not. But that boy has friends. 

Sarah puts down her book. The mortal friend, named Phyllis says - What's wrong?.... But the lonely vampirina doesn't answer. She just pulls herself up out of the old wing chair and walks out of the shop. The small brass bell above the door rings as she departs.

And deep within his leaden tomb, her mate appears to hear.... Jonathon's crepe paper face smiles.
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A NERVOUS AND AGITATED VAMPIRE ...... 4/24/13

Jonathon passed through other rooms and different chambers. He saw interior courtyards and high towers, hidden from the outside world by soaring mountains. Young, elferina girls (waif-like, pointy eared, pubescent vampires) ministered to the good natured cherubs, sharing tiny blood drinks and wrapping them in warm, woolen buntings. Even night-folk children appreciate comfort. 

And there were hospice-like dormitories where silent vampirinas cared for seriously ill mortals, usually much loved retainers, but occasionally a sympathetic local tribesmen or two as well.  

Many vampires assembled for the Creed Song, their version of a religious service. The Choir Master, reputed to be a former liturgical composer from Hagia Sophia,  mother church of The Eastern Roman or Byzantine Empire, led them through intricately layered chants and hymns. The gold leafed, rough stone walls echoed with fine, clear, more-than-natural voices. 'May He Who made the universe, make us forever one,' they sang. And the song had many verses. At certain intervals they stopped for silent contemplation, or prayer-like recitation. Toward the end, each took the wrist of a neighbor and drank a bit of blood, before offering his own wrist to another.

Now all these sites were wonderful to see and Jonathon was truly appreciative. The gold embroidered robes, influenced by Persian courtiers, had no equal.  And he savored wine tinged blood, drawn from the arteries of faithful mortal attendants, who were rarely, if ever, killed. Indeed, the memories would fill many pages in his journal. 

But the one who led him here sensed something and  said - What troubles you?....... Jonathon quietly answered - Everything...... The man with the sharp, cunning fangs whispered - A true vampire, I might say...... And he smiled. Then, in a small, soft, tiny voice added - Lose yourself. Become a vessel. Gather in the blood and let it out...' for those who must be saved.' Let the wicked die. Help the worthy live...... Jonathon said - Who taught you that?.... Though the man only shrugged and smiled.

The young life-eater from Al-Andaluz stayed in that place for perhaps three or four moons, sheltering there through the worst of the winter. And then he simply left, retracing his steps back toward home. Each day he hid from the light. And each night he assisted the worthy. Sometimes he ate. Not often, but monthly as was his habit. He fell into a rhythm and even forgot his name.... in the manner of the truest night-folk of all.

Jonathon has seen many things.

But please do not forget that what we've discussed are memories. For now he waits, pierced by many long, thin needles and unable to free himself from their bite.

His blood, so filled with many things, belongs to his captor now. And his tissues thirst because of it.

The old man, known as Tobias Maxwell, dips his hands in the red, frothy brew and rubs it on his face. But the large, golden bowl holds so much more....

As Jonathon quietly suffers, within his leaden tomb.
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