The Book of All Things New / El Libro de Todos las Cosas Nuevas

Morticia goes dancing through the vapors with the elves on a nightly basis. Sometimes with Albion and Marianne. And sometimes with Celeste and Roland. The first two quite reverent. The second pair a bit naughty. But both couples always get the job done. Their purpose? Raining benefits upon the poor. Sick people receive a 'magical' blood vial. Those lacking 'coin' gain wealth. Everyone feels better, especially the immortals. Their favorite? The 'hundred thousand dollar drop.' Imagine being a struggling, almost homeless, single mother with perpetually sick children who suddenly finds herself the proud possessor of a premium, designer handbag (the elves and vampires furnish that too) stuffed with a huge supply of neatly wrapped twenty dollar bills. Publishers' Clearing House? Forget them bitches. Our 'people' do a better job any night. And nobody gets sat on to buy a bunch of bathroom cluttering, old magazines. But there has to be a certain amount of 'cullings' in order to build up those funds. Jonathon, Sarah and Baylah take care of that. The third one hears a lot of juicy stuff through her equities trader boyfriend. So she has a steady stream of nasty big money swindlers waiting for her attentions. Kiss-kiss, bite-bite, grab the Rolex and wallet, goodnight. Sarah and Jonathon do their part too. Even with all the spiritual rebirth going on around town, there are always a few skeptical specimens reluctant to give up their old ways. And if we truly expect to change the world we can't have that.. So the money comes in and the money goes out. And everybody's happy. God bless those jewelry fencing/money laundering familiars of ours. But life (or the vampires version of it) was still good around here. Baylah would dress up and make a personal appearance as 'The Lady' from time to time. Jonathon, not so often. But he still did it when he felt like. True, Edith or a Red Paint, or somebody else would get a little tingle about something troubling coming up over the horizon (The Teacher maybe?), but we tended to push that stuff to the back of our minds. The refuge in the Fairmount Park woods was especially comfy. They even had a brand new, black, shiny baby grand piano in that place. And people with black, shiny, baby grand pianos tend to ignore the nazi at the door. Sarah and Jonathon would sit in front of the 'authentic' electric fireplace during the wee hours of the morning and talk. He'd tell her about other times and other places. Sometimes he'd show her certain pages in his old, vellum journal. She couldn't understand the old Castilian and such, but he'd explain it and make it all right for her. One night she said - So it happens a lot? Vampires impersonating heavenly messengers, I mean...........He answers - Yes, it does. And sometimes it's  vampires impersonating other vampires impersonating heavenly messengers. It can get  very confusing at times. .............She responds - Well, are there any real ones? Heavenly messengers, I mean......... He smiles and says - That, my dear, is a matter of faith.............................. It takes at least eightyfour hours for a whale to travel from the Italian coast to the Jersey shore. The clock is ticking. Company's coming....... Zebulon out.

The Book of All Things New

Even Zebulon did not know. The Shaky Hand Man was an emination of my mind, my soul, my dreams. Even I was not completely aware of it. But it was always me. I would explain things to you and tell you of my beginnings, but I do not feel like it. Perhaps sometimes yet to come, after we have grown accustomed to each other I will........Oh, you know, I think the whale does surface and breathe, however the salve encasing me protects my body from the light. Do I see it? Do I experience it? No, I do not. Maybe I drag a thick, gray, bone chilling damp coffin lid of weeping clouds with me. Maybe that is it. Or maybe, something else........I like whale blood. I like whale-life. The creature is quite safe. I could never take it all. The taste is so rich and thick and complex. Think about it, an 'animal' that goes everywhere. It has a sense of our planet as a planet. a finite orb, a tear drop poised in space. My friend, my companion, my traveling partner. This one is in the family way. I can hear the new one deep inside. It's a 'little' blue-ling, the spawn of giants and a future prince of the ocean sea. I talk to it when the mother lets me, when her own voice grows still. She is pensive and contemplative, for she nears the end of her life. This calf will be her last. She has passed three hundred and fifty years  now and by all accounts will die sometime 'round her four hundredth year. Long by your standards, but short by mine........... I 'saw' a figure. A man, I think it was, walking along the abyssmal plain at the bottom of the sea. True, there was a complete abscence of light, but if the whale detected him, ( their echo power, I suppose) I detected him. An image formed in my mind and it was very much like sight. He shuffled along, never looking to the left and never looking to the right. We swam by him, but he never once acknowledged our presence. Yet even in the darkness, he must have felt the eddy as we passed. But then I knew why. For he did not have a face. The front half of his skull, including the lower mandible, was hacked away, probably by the massive beak of a giant squid. A shredded clump of bloodless scraps bounced up and down as he progressed. He wore some sort of contemporary tunic. I belive they call it a t-shirt. The words 'Maroon Five' were inscribed accross the chest. I do not know what that means. And I do not understand how the whale's echo vision could have accomplished such a thing. His pants were quite ordinary, similar to the loosely tailored garments worn by peasants and rustics during the time before my abduction. And I noticed that the flesh on his hands and feet had been completely gnawed away. Then we moved on and abandoned him to the inky darkness. One encounters such things from time to time. Humans generally discredit such tales. Think of Roswell, Area 51 and Sleepy Hollow. You know what I mean. But pay attention. Open your eyes. Throw away the blinders. You just may learn a lot. Be patient. Wait till I 'dissembark.'.  And if you won't admit the truth of such things, know this... If you 'can't' see me.....I can still see you......

The Book of All Things New

A whale can course through the ocean faster than the sleekest ship. They marry the womb-like broth and pass through it with complete familiarity. I lay pressed against the gigantic back. My fangs penetrate into the blood-rich hide. No thing, no entity can break this bond. We pass through time and space as one. A protective gelatinous substance oozes from its pores, enveloping my body, smoothing out the rough spots. My being is one with the noble beast. We slice through the briny abyss, speeding passed transluscent, light-emiting organisms. They decorate the darkness like the Saturnalia of Rome. Ah, how I savor those memories. Let my come upon my New World offspring. Let me meld with my New World brethren. Let me instruct them in the way that we should live. For they follow false doctrine and 'The Teacher' needs to set things right. A vampire's life? Bah! They nibble at it like worms on a corpse, when they should tear into it with the strong, bloody teeth of a lion. I saw things. And I know things. I sensed them as they penetrated the stones of my Vatican mausoleum/prison. I tasted them in the salty, red soup of my victims. I saw what they saw, the sweating, human beef of a hundred generations, the ever changing tools of the necromancers. What is a 'lap top' but yet another magic mirror? What is an Amy Winehouse, a Jimmy Fallon, a Bret Favre, a Pink, but contemporary incarnations of long gone Jongleurs? True, interesting, to say the least. I wonder how they will taste? Ah, to live in freedom. To drink in an atmosphere free of sticky mold, decay and corruption. Soon I will know. Soon I will know. Hello, Snookie. Greetings you wearers of eightteen hour bras. Salutations you drinkers of double lattes. I will slurp you up. I will eat you all! My eyes stare out through the milky balm that encases me. Tiny remnants of fragile lifeforms raining down from sun pierced layers stream passed me. I feel the pressure. I feel the depth. I feel it all..... I wonder how they dress in my 'son's' new home? I do so favor a fine tailored doublet. Would that I might find one on that 'Walnut Street' I think they call it. Look for me. You'll know me, for you've never seen the like....................Zebulon talking. Did you read that? Can you imagine this fellow? Is he ever going to be a handful. Annie and her hounds? Nope. That condensed distilation of evil known as The Shaky Hand Man? Please! They are as fleas. But this one will be different. This one will tempt them. And we will see  how 'nobel' our blood drinkers truly are.......But of late, I enjoy watching Roland and Celeste. Who are they? The other two elves, usually content to silently soak things in from the background. But now they are different, stealing out to explore the world with a child-like wonder. It does my heart (or at least  the memory of my heart) good to look upon them. They hide in the ventilation ducts running up above the flimsy 'dropped ceiling' tiles  in department store changing rooms. They peek down through the metal lattices, pointing long, thin fingers and giggling their soundless giggles. Do you think you can hear them? No, you cannot. For they are quiet as dust. Follow our story. Read our tale. Learn our ways. Edith says that one or two of you will be 'translated' before all this is over. I wonder who it will be? I wonder which one of our life eaters will drip the magic on you? I wonder............

The Book of Edith.... sometimes it's my turn

OK, so you know I got the crazy eye (the inner one, I mean) and can read minds and see stuff. Well, my brain (I think it's my brain) is gettin' all clogged up with all this crap and I gotta make room for more. So here goes..... 1) A girl in New Jersey better keep her mouth shut if she knows what I mean, 'cause her friend ain't exactly her friend. And if she likes workin' in that salon she better look for a new lunch partner. That, or eat a lot of dry, crunchy salads - takes a lot of chewin', less time for talkin'.......2) A certain 'you know who'  in Bucks County, Pennsylvania had better get a plumber in to check out that hall bathroom, 'cause it's about to blow a gusher and stain up all that new, 'paper bag' colored paint in the dining room.....3) To the guy with the new Silverado ----- she knows and she is sending the pictures to your mother!.......4) To the folks in # 608 --- When the kid next door turns on its little sister's 'tickle me elmo' it does something to the plate she got in her head and she can see right thru to your master bathroom. But don't worry too much, 'cause she runnin' outta batteries and her mom don't wanna buy her none. So that should end things, unless the little bastid goes rougue and starts boostin' 'em from the Rite-Aid. 5) The next four people who recruit four new readers for this blog are gonna win a new volkswagon Jetta , either that, or I got my telepathic abilities all screwed up with somebody's tee-bo of Drew Carey or somethin'..... Man does that make my scalp itch!

The Book of All Things New

This is Zebulon  bringing you the word from Philadelphia. The pilgrimages continue. Actually, they've really just begun. People report cures. Physcians are 'skeptical' since they can't figure out a way to grab the spotlight and collect money for it all. But know this, the cures are real. Fender  benders are down too. Mindless schoolyard fights and frenzies are down. And the people on the bus are so damn friendly, so damn friendly, so damn friendly. Life is like a song. Everything is kiss-kiss, hug-hug, good hot soup filled with roses and puppies. Our immortal threesome keeps filling those little miraculous blood vials and the elves and cherubs go right on delivering them. Investigative reporters criss cross the town searching for angles (angels too) and stories. Fistfulls of glittering lucre from the vampires treasure cache find their way into deserving, needy pockets. Bag ladies rent luxury apartments. Poor kids on food stamps suddenly have ten thousand dollar bank accounts. Best of all,  no one feels compelled to ask any troublesome questions. And 'urban grunge' becomes the look of choice at all the best tables in stylish restaurants, at least until the diners find the time to purchase an assortment of fashionable outfits. This is a quiet time for the vampires. What,  did you think they do not have them? Well, they do. It is not always high drama, clenched jaws, flaring nostrils, butt cheeks pinched together and other forms of soap opera madness. That stuff only happens on the lesser TV networks (both free and cable) and in teen-between, 'I'm so misunderstood,' blood sucker mall movies. Real life is completely different. So there is plenty of time for our vampires to explore their world and their feelings and each other. Baylah has a boyfriend. He visits her at the piano bar. They spend the night as his place. Didn't I tell you about him already? I could swear I did. He's what we called a merchant-banker. Now they call him an equities trader. He has a seat on the Philadelphia Stock Exchange and a fine, carefully tailored, red brick, Center City, petit palace, not to mention a magazine worthy weekend/summer place 'down the shore.' Does he know about her unusual condition? I don't know. But he must know something. True, it is a dangerous game telling mortals. But Jonathon's familiars know about him, so why should this fellow be any different? Still, he does not know she is 'Our Lady of the Olive Garden. But he does know a lot. I can tell. I have a feeling. Speaking of feelings.....Sarah and Jonathon are certainly getting in touch with theirs. They've taken to wandering naked through the dim and shuttered galleries of the Art Museum.... a pair of regular tableau vivants. Why? Why not? And (in the same condition) they made love right on top of the polished, granite slab dedicated to the unknown soldiers of The Revolution in the middle of Washington Square. Did anybody see? They must have. No one said anything. It was three thirty in the morning. True, a lot of cats started vocalizing, but I don't know if the two events were in fact connected or not. Most of the people living in the high rises around that way have fairly steady incomes, so they were probably snoring away in preperation for  next mornings's trot on the tread-wheel.. Then, when they get tired of that (Jonathon and Sarah, I mean) they sublimate into the zoo, where they ride the magically liberated great, white, arctic bears through the deserted, cobbled lanes. And according to the residents of monkey island, it is quite the show. Want to hear something else I know? Hitler and Liberace  have a big, hit show in the neather world.. No, they're not exactly neighbors. Hitler gets a work pass to commute up for the show. What's it called? I told you...The Hitler and Liberace Show! Look, I'll see if I can get you tickets when you die. No, really, I promise.. So, don't say I never do anything for you............

The Book of All Things New

Jonathon sits reading his centuries old, vellum journal. He carefully turns the pages reviewing his time in London during the catastrophic contagion of the sixteen sixties, the fall of Byzantium to the Ottoman empire and countless other places as well. Then he takes out a new, dollar store, composition book and begins to inscribe the details of hism current life........ Outside, Morticia is on the snow covered roof with Albion, Marianne and  one or two of the other elves. Albion speaks. He says - No, really we can. We can share the gift with you. We can enable you to fly....... Morticia giggles nervously. She does not believe it. She says - How? How can you do it? I don't have any powers. I can read minds a little, but everybody can do that........Marianne interjects - You do not require any magic of your own....... Albion - We have more than enough to go around. It is a gift. Think of it as a gift. We are giving you a gift. Are you ready?..... Morticia - I, I think so........ She stands her ground, closes her eyes and clenches her mitten-clad fists. She shivers a bit, more from apprehension than from the cold. Albion neatly bites into the skin of his inner wrist, draws in some blood, throws back his head and gargles a little. Then he lowers his gaze and focuses on Morticia. He rises up off the powdery surface  till his feet dangle six inches above the roof-top. Then he blows the blood out of his mouth and into the cold, frosty air, where it instantly solidifies into a glittering mist of tiny, sparkling points of light, which settle on Morticia, gilding her with radiance. She giggles some more....... Albion speaks - Now do not simply dream it. Do it. Be it. Become the air. Rise up. Break free....... And so she does. Morticia rises up, a bit wobbly at first, but soon finding her balance. The elves rise up and join her.And they streak off (wearing clothing of the appropriate black color) to penetrate the night. Such are things in The City of Brotherly Love......... Yet  on another continent things are different. The Teacher comes to the shoreline. It is dark. An icy, bone-gray, January moon holds court above a silver-black sea, as the starry chorus twinkles in the background. The Teacher steps into the cold as death brine. He moves forward till the water reaches his chin. Then he begins to swim. Does a vampire feel the cold? Yes. Is it painful? That is relative. Pain is a signal announcing injury or infection. What are they to a creature beyond death? So, no, they do not 'acknowledge' pain. Not like mortals. It is merely a sensation, like an exotic flavor one developes a taste for. And so he swims on till the land turns back and forgets him. A meteor quickly slashes across the sky. But he is fixed on other things. And a song begins to pulse across the waves. A chant, a drone, an aria sung by beings vast and knowing. The whales rise ever toward the surface, until he feels their huge, leviathan presence. It brushes his belly. He stops swimming. He is familiar with these creatures and has traveled like this before. He kisses the back of the benevolent beast, drawing in a throatful of rich, hot blood. Then he seals his lips around the bleeding wound and closes his eyes. And this is how they move on, united as one. When the whale dives down into the abyss, he dives with it. In this manner the exit the Pillars of Hercules and pass out on to the broad, immensity of the North Atlantic. Do the whales have to surface? Do the whales require breath? Was he naked to the sun? I do not know. Some secrets are kept even from Zebulon and I do not know what magic happens when a vampire voyages thusly. I cannot tell you. But they continue on in this fashion and will do so till they reach the Jersey Shore.

The Book of All Things New

This is Zebulon. Of course you  know this is Zebulon. What am I thinking. With what other narrative voice do you have such a relationship! The other narrators like to maintain their anonimity, but not me. Oh, and via the akoshic records, I know your names too! Hello, Jason! Greetings Melissa! I could go through the list, but you know who you are. Now back to the buzzings and bitings in the nocturnal world. For the time being, things are good. The world, or the Philadelphia part of it, is a better place. Still, no one thing, no one force is universal and absolute. There are always bubbles in the batter. And so, some 'iffy' souls are still breathing. That means our life eaters still have a certain measure of work to do. Not much, but some. They have gone back to monthly, lunar cullings. If I am correct, right now, Sarah is taking out a crooked civic guard ('cops' I think they call them). She knows where he hides. She knows where he sets his trap. If you have the right 'look' and the right last name, you don't get the ticket. But if you have the 'wrong' look and the 'wrong' type of last name, you get the ticket, regardless of how you were driving. And that is but one of his lesser crimes. Neighborhood thugs who 'play ball' are ignored. Others are robbed, or beaten, or killed. Does he act alone? Unfortunately not. But  tonight it is his turn to 'learn his lesson.' Although I fail to see how this newly acquired information will be of any benefit to him, since he will soon be completely and utterly dead. Look, look, look! He stops her on the street. He thinks she is a 'street walker.' He threatens to take her in.But it is only a 'scam.' We know what he really wants. Sarah pretends to ce concerned. She invites him to join her in a nearby, dark, sticky, greasy alley. He smiles and says - What for?..... She says - A free sample. I've got some new 'merchandise.' Come and tell me what you think.'........ He parks the car and follows. He pushes her against an unsavory surface. But before he can unfasten any of his many buttons, 'snaps' or 'zippers,' she has him. She caresses him. She kisses him. He growls - Cut that shit, you bitch. I don't have all night..... So she does what he wants. She gets right to it. She rips his collar, twists his neck to better present the necessary blood vessel and goes to work. He shudders. He moans. He struggles and tries to draw his gun. But it is too late. His blood is hers now. His life is over. His crimes are done. Sarah watches as his body collapses down onto the filth and burns away. But she did take his watch first, a nice one. Gold, inscribed with the name of some famous 'creative' and well marketed individual. It will be a welcome addition to their treasure cache. Jonathon and Baylah did their duty too. There were three blue flames this night. And the treasure cache was fattened accordingly.........And later? Later they all retreat back to the snug refuge. The three life eaters, joined by Edith, the telepathic Piney woman, take their ease in front of an orange, electric fireplace blazing forth from a genuine Amish mantle (it was a good deal on some shopping station and the elves and cherubs wanted it so they bought it). The vampires each enjoy a soothing aroma candle. Edith sips a cup of tea laced with a liberal splash of Jack Daniels. They stare into the quasi authentic, somewhat animated flames. But all is not peaceful. They can sense it. They can feel something. Jonathon knows. The one who created him, the one who named him Tomas, is on his way. His spiritual father is coming by for a visit. And as in most 'families' there is friction......For 'Daddy' seems just a wee bit upset.....