'LIFE' IS STRANGE

We sat in  our quarters under the museum, Papa in his big, leather chair, Annie, down on the rug playing with her hercules beetles and Me at the desk taking it all down. Papa was thinking. He wanted to assault the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau under the former shipyard. But he did not want to stage any elaborate stunts. No more 'miracles.' If  he's learned anything over the ages, it is anonimity. Keep a low profile. Sure it was all right to claim center stage during the 'shaman' era. But nobody worshipped vampires anynore. They actually did not worship them back in Bedrock either. All they wanted was a middleman, somebody to carry prayers up to the spirits and pull down the occasional miracle or two. Well, maybe the vampires have simply been replaced by other practioners? But I do not judge. I can see what he sees. Not that I possess any special abilities. He just wants me too. It's like he needs  someone to talk to, someone to bounce things around with. And this twenty eight thousand year old being is bouncing things around with me, wilkravitz. And I don't even un derstand the workings of the Star ship Enterprize and that's the fictional Star ship Enterprize. He means to form a family. I know that. He wants Jonathon back, only he prefers to call him Tomas. Who cares. Sarah and the others? They'll probably be rejuvenated too. I think Annie is a little nervous though. He doesn't like her. She's bad. She's a real bad seed. And he wants to head a 'good' family. You know what that means. It's how Jonathon/Tomas ran things when they only 'culled' the evil doers and all that. So that part will be the same, only there's gonna be a new sherriff in town. You think Jonathon/Tomas would mind? I don't. He doesn't care about that stuff. Sarah is too new to understand much about it. And the elves and cherubs  exist in a universe free of such hierarchies......So, we'll see...... Meanwhile, Jonathon has become quite close to the one he calls 'the doctorix.' They live with each other. Doctor Franklin is the big daddy and they're his married children. OK, so the son-in-law is a bit exotic, but the old man likes that kind of stuff. You should see them leaning over the rail at the mermaid's pool, feeding her chunks of herring, watching her chortle with delight as she slurps them down. Then sometimes they sneak in to the Big Room and play with The Great Armonica. Franklin knows. I guess he figures there's only so much they can do with what they know. And he aint giving away any of the big secrets. So they bring back a little, chicken-like dinosaur. It's not as if the machine hasn't done that before. And one time they conjured up Marie Antoinette's severed head (about 1.2 seconds after the fatal cut). She even winked at 'em a couple times. When the old man found out he threw her into the wood chipper, the former queen, I mean. That must have been hard on him, 'cause they were buddies back in the day......I think the doctorix is thinkin 'bout 'jumpin over.' She got the vampire heebie-geebies real bad. And she willing to do all these little special tricks for him. Fancy stuff, real tickly stuff she picked up when she was studying over seas. He knows. But he don't want to do it. What would Sarah say IF they get her back. Look, as far as he knows, it is not a sure thing.....But to Papa it is.......Oh, we shall see...We shall see...I gotta go. Papa wants me to pick him up some magazines. You can imagine what he likes, classy porn and world affairs....A regular Bill Clinton he is......See ya later.

TALES OF TORTURE

This is the post I told you about. It's me, wilkravitz. I'm back from the Jersey Pines. Edith the 'Pow Wow' woman said it was all right to come back to the city. She said that things were starting to settle down. I don't know where Zebulon is. Usually I channel things through him. I don't know who was doing the typing when I wasn't here. What's yet another magical mystery around here? Right? Although some of the Red Paint folks, good seers in their own right, think he's hovering over the Pacific Coast, putting words in Charlie Sheen's mouth. Zebulon thinks that kind of thing is funny. Listen to the words. Pay attention to the interviews. You'll recognize the cadence and the phraseology....Put Papa picked me up real fast. He found me on the street and took me back here. The museum, I'm talking about. My room is all right. But that stringy haired, little vampire brat is torture. She already killed one guard. One of the familiars, I mean. He just could not keep up with her and he had a heart attack. She laughed. Annie thought that was real funny. Papa was mad, real mad. Said he was gonna pour wet cement down her throat and let it harden. Vampire kids hate that, especially the bad ones. I guess they have some experience with it. But he treats me all right. Yeah, sure, I'm scared of him. He's got a lot of powers. No one can tell what he might do. What? He promised to tell you some sickening stories from the old days? I see him getting comfortable. He's sitting in his leather chair. Look at him. He's thinking. Now he's staring at me. God I hate when he does that. It's a signal. It means empty my mind and get ready.....OK, here goes.......There was one king. I believe he ruled back before the great flood from a vast palace complex somewhere along the Ganges River. Now people were well versed in metallurgy back then and made a very fine, strong alloy of stainless steel. This king used  to build little rooms of it. The walls were one  cubit thick. The length about seven cubits. The width about the same. I think the ceiling was high., too high for a man to reach, even if he jumped. There was a whole series of these rooms and they were buried in a row deep under ground. They said the depth was about one hundred cubits. But I do not remember. A prisoner, some poor soul, would be placed into each one. There was a drain in a corner of the floor. And when each room was 'taken' the roof would be welded into place. A thin pipe lead up to the surface. Once a day, some small water skins and food packets would be slid down. In this way prisoners could be kept alive for years. The drain was wide enough to handle the water skins and the wrappings from the food packets,  so trash was not a problem. And even if it was, who cared. Imagine the lives of those so encased. Buried deep within the earth. Sealed into darkness. Cut off from sound and sight, with only the smooth, cool walls for comfort. From time to time, small tympanic listening devices would be silently lowered down the pipe. They were like primitive stethoscopes. And they worked quite well. Some prisoners prayed. Others sang songs or had long, drawn out conversations with family and friends. There were those who made no sounds at all. Occasionally someone would refrain from eating. They'd try to starve to death. But instinct soon took over, foiling that plan. Courtiers of the  king swore that one man survived in this manner for seventy nine years, dying at one hundred years of age. What was his crime? Nothing. No, really it was nothing. He was in the way. Someone at court wanted his land. The holding was not great, a small plot he'd inherited from his father. But a well placed, high born party had plans for it ( I think they put in a reflecting pool) and so the poor young man was buried alive.....Such was the world back then....And not only then, for there have been worse tortures nearer to your own time.....I do not feel like communicating anymore right now...It is over...Maybe on another night, I will rell you more........

AND NOW TODAY

So I returned to my village upon the lake, traveling by moonlight and hiding from the sky fire during the day. My people. What would I tell them? They expected an experienced life-eater, or at least the possibility of one. And I had failed. Oh, the woman, the older one, Renate (yes, she told me her name) was still abroad in the world. I did not know where she was. At times I'd get an inkling. Still, I did not know how to interpret those things. So she was completely lost to me. At least back then, during the early days she was. I came into the village late one autumn night. The people were seated 'round the communal hearth sharing new experiences and old stories. I stood back in the shadow of a dwelling and listened to the voices of my clan. I remembered how much I'd missed them. Then I stepped out into the firelight. They looked up. They smiled. People jumped up to embrace me. Someone found a stool and shoved  it under me. I sat down. Children were called. Old folks shuffled out from dwellings. All eyes were upon me, waiting for my tale. Did I bring one? Did I get one? Where is the new shaman? What miracles can they do? And then they waited as I composed my thoughts. Yes, I brought back a life-eater. There was a collective exhalation in response. They were relieved. And the life-eater, the shaman is here with us right now....People asked - Where is this person? We cannot see them. Are they hiding in the ether?.... No, I said. They are right here.....And then I performed one of the first feats I'd discovered. I sublimated my hand through a beer bowl placed before me. All were silent. All were thinking. Some actually inched away from me. They could accept such enchantment in an outsider, but not in one of their own, not in a contemporary. So I rose  to my feet and addressed them. I said - I am the new shaman. I am a life-eater now, created by one most venerable and knowing. And I shall guard our lives from this day forth. A few of them, mostly the spiritual older women, came up to embrace me. They cried and I cried. Heads nodded. Drums and pipes appeared. Songs were sung. A bit later, when I sensed the coming of the dawn, I told them I would retreat to a small, winding cave near the shore, for daylight was my time to rest and meet with the spirits. Heads bobbed in understanding. And they formed a column behind me, singing softly as I went to my new sacred home...........Now some night I will tell you of events long ago. Of times spent in royal courts and in the spell chambers of long dead alchemists. But not tonight. For I am lonely. I acted in haist. And now I must go about rebuilding a family. So I wander 'round this one-time shipyard, listening through walls and waiting for a chance to do what I must do.......Maybe later, If I am in the mood, I will tell you fearsome tales of killings and tortures in the past.... There, I knew you'd like that.......

METHODS OF EXECUTION

She who made me stayed around for a few nights. But one dusk, she was gone. And I was all alone. What could I do. Where could I go? I went home. They wanted a life-eater and now they had one. Granted, I was not too experienced. Yet I grew into my powers by the hour. What did I do with the two left in the pit? What did I do with the two remaining people? I let them go. I helped them out. They thanked me and thanked me. They blessed me with prayers both old and new. I caught a few birds for them. Some type of primative, wild chicken, I think it was. And I even helped them roast it. They relaxed. You could see that they were relaxed. We talked and joked. We listened to the crickets. They told me they'd be heading back to their people in the morning. I told them I'd be starting home to mine soon too. And then they fell asleep, right there, completely exposed on the grass. I went back into the cave and put on my things. I stuffed a few mementos into a pouch. I don't know what. Just things to help me remember my transformation. It's odd, you'd think such things would be important to me. But I couldn't even tell you what they were. Probably little carvings or something. When I walked back to the 'picnic' spot, the two humans were still sleeping, bathed in the dim amber glow of the small fire. I studied them. What cunning live forms these humans were. Look at that. I'd already forgotten that I was once one of them. How fine their features are. Look at the hair, like mink, like silk. How....How.....appetizing. And then I did it. I did it fast. I did not want the other one to wake up. Oh! the blood tasted good! Now I know it's just as much the taking of the life as the drinking of the blood that sustains us. But I did not know that then. It was rich and yeasty and full of flavor. Did you ever tuck into an especially delicious piece of rare prime rib? You know the kind I mean. The juices run all salty and red. Well this was like that, only fresher. I suppose, technically, it is an act of cannibalism. True, I say I'm not a human, but look at me. What am I shaped like, a squid? Yet I felt no guilt, but only satisfaction. She was dead. I dragged her away behind a rock, so he wouldn't be bothered by the blue fire. Then I kicked him a little with my foot. He was groggy and asked about the other. He said - Where is she?......I said - I'm sorry, but an animal got her...... Though I could see by the look in his eyes that he knew. He was quiet. I said - Were you close to that one?.....He shook his head and mumbled - No, same clan. I have known of her since we were children, but no, we were not close........But he was a liar. I could feel in. And I simply turned away from him and started off on my journey..........I was dead to my old existence. I was executed. That was then and this was now......though I never expected the 'now' would last so long.

PAPA'S FIRST NIGHT

We layed there, staring down into the pit. My eyes, my new eyes saw everything. It was still dark, yet secret nuggets of ambient light were everywhere. The minerals in the cave wall sparkled. The undulations in the natural rock threw shadows. I know the mortal people could not see. Their eyes saw as dead eyes. But I was different. And I saw everything. The woman, the life-eater who created me whispered. She spoke and said - Pick one. which will it be? Trust your inner spirit. You will know.... And I did know. Three mortal humans, all naked, cowered together against the far side of the pit. They could not see or hear us. And I'm sure our scent did not make any difference, because our scent was all over. But some other means of detection told them. They knew. Two were female. One,obviously, was male. The smaller female was mine. She was the one. Tonight she would die.  She who created me followed my gaze and said - Her?.... I nodded.....She continued - I thought so. You have a good eye for the evil doer you do. Poisoned her mate, that one did. And a good man too. Wanted a place in the headman's household. Not from here, naturally. My folks are all dead. But from close enough. I know her...... What do I do now? - I quietly asked.....You just leap down there and do it. Take her. Use your teeth. Are they 'in' yet? The wolf teeth, the cat teeth, the fangs I mean?.......I felt with my tongue and they were. I nodded and swallowed.......She whispered - Then do it.....I raised myself to a push-up position, leaned forward and lept. It was natural. It was easy for me. Those that do not know compare us to bats. But we are not like bats. We are much more like cats. And the humans screamed and clambered to get out. But the pit was deep, at least fourteen cubits. They had no hope. I snaked in among them and snatched the little one away. And when the other two realized they were 'safe' they collapsed onto the floor, heaving and clutching each other. The little one cried. She said - No, please. No, Please.....But I struck her across the face and yelled - That was your mate's hand you felt! And these teeth are the teeth of his ancestors!...... She spit. She cried. She scratched.She peed. But what could she do? Nothing. I shook her till she was senseless. And then I did it. I broke the skin and drank up her life. She whimpered a bit. But that was all. I can only imagine what the other humans thought. They could not see anything. It was all just sight, smell and commotion to them. Yet they sat there completely motionless and silent. When the mate killer fell to the ground, she ignited into a cold blue flame. I screamed. My creator shouted - Stop that! The 'righteous flame' cannot hurt you! Put your hand in it! Do it!......I did. And I was unburned. I drew my hand back and studied it. There was no mark upon it. The other two could see now. And they began to cry. The male uttered prayers with words I did not know. The female sobbed. My maker said - Come out from there. Jump! Grab the sides! It will be easy for you.......And it was. She grabbed me and kissed me. Then she bagan to cry. But she dried her tears with the back of her hand and said - Come with me....She lead me to a part of the cavern I had not seen before. A small water fall cascaded out from the rocks, falling down into a warm pool. It was a natural shower bath eminating from some hot spring. She said - Step into the holy waters and bathe.....I did. That's when my skin began to peel from my body. And the warm, mineral rich water helped wash it away......When I was done we walked out into the starlight and made love on the cool, fresh grass.......I was a vampire...though it would be thousands of years till I heard that word....But I was a vampire....And a vampire I remain.....

A STRANGE AND WONDROUS KILLING

We were in the rough tunnel. The large female grabbed the torch and dashed it to the floor. Then she stomped it out , plunging us into darkness. I stood there. What could I do? What could I say. I new she was different. Her scent was different. And even to this day, I can't say how. I think the scent is unique to all of us. Vampires, I mean. But finally she spoke. Her voice was low and smoky. Her words were shaped differently, what you today would call an accent. Yet imagine living in a time when every few bands of people spoke completely different words. Still she managed to produce sounds familiar to me. Now I know she was reading my mind. More than reading it. She was melding with it. And she told me not to be afraid. She said - You will leave here as whole as when you entered. I understand that now. And I see the humor in it. But what could I do? I was afraid to even breathe. Her hand caressed my neck. I shuddered. She laughed and said - Are you not too big for that? Come, turn around. Go ahead. It will be all right. Turn around. Do it.....So I did. Her hand softly rested on my shoulder. And we penetrated deep into the blackness. We passed back through the chapel. I could smell it. I could smell the ocher and the pigments and the colors. Then we snaked through the passageway leading to a larger chamber, the one I glimpsed before. It was cooler in here and that seemed to relax me. Now I could sense things in her mind. At least that's how I interpreted it back then. I knew we were coming up to a large pit. Part of me thought she'd throw me in, but she did not. And we carefully made our way 'round this unseen danger. Yet others were not so lucky. There were people down there, maybe three of them. They were too scared to breathe. I could feel their heartbeats. The sound seemed to echo from the walls. She laughed, but this time it was not a pleasant sound. Annd we went on , entering a secluded den. She pushed me down onto a pile of furs. They were new and fresh. I could smell that even with my human senses. I heard her rumaging around. All I could think of was her nakedness. She was as bare as the gnomes. I mean the Neanderthals. When she struck the flint and lit the little fat bowls, I saw her. She was beautiful, tall and lean,  similar to what the Hellenes would have called a 'Diana.' But perhaps that's who she was? Then she layed down next to me and began to untangle the knotted thongs that secured the skins on my body. I did not say a word. I did not have to. She knew me and I knew her. When all the skins were gone she inspected my hunt marks, what we now call scars. And she asked me about them. I told her of sturgeon hunts upon the lake and struggles with the great auroch out on the plain. But she did not need the words. I think she just asked me to hear my voice. Her hair was long and loose and dark like ravens' wings. Her fingers light and sensative. I asked her about her life. But she said that her life was lived long ago and that she did not remember. She kissed me. I kissed her back. Her mouth had a salty tang, but more than a salty tang. Then I remembered I was with a life-eater, a shaman, a doer of miracles. And I let her work a miracle on me. We came together. We satisfied each other. And I almost passed out from the pleasure of it. Then we did the same  a second time and laid there like wolf  cubs after nursing. Finally I found my voice. I spoke. I told her of my purpose. I told her why I was sent. I asked her. I said - Will you return with me to the place of my people  and stand between us and the spirits?......She was quiet. I could feel her mind work....She said - Do you not think that I have memories of this place? They were my children. I was their mother....I said - Then you can be my people's mother now......But I saw that she was crying. I saw the tears and I kissed them away. They tasted of blood. I began to beg again. She put her finger to my lips and silenced me......No, she said. I will not go back with you. Not in the way you imagine. But your people will have their shaman. They will have their life-eater. And he will be a more meaningful force in their lives than I ever could...... It was then that I understood......I said - Do you plan to spill the magic over me?.......She whispered - Yes.....And her sharp, little, cunning teeth began to do their work.....A bite to the neck.....A tiny drink.....A nip at the groin....A little more.....In this way she drew off enough blood  and brought me to the brink (in more ways than one). My eyes began to flutter. the small, flickering orange lights danced 'round like silent bees.....She kissed me and held me  as a pieta. She whispered in my ear - No, no, no. You shall not expire. I will not let that happen..... Then she ran a nail along a generous nipple and blood began to flow. Not a lot. Nothing gory. Just enough. So she pulled me up and gave me life to drink, the very life she'd drained away from others. And after a while, I was restored, not the way I was. But this felt even better......It was then I began to hear the others moan.  I crawled to the pit  and hung my head down, taking in their rich, intoxicating scent. She came up and layed down beside me. We both began to purr.....And the first step on the ternal road stretched before me. I was the first to die that night. But I would not be the last..................

KILL ONE FOR THE ROAD II

Papa sat and studied the entrance to the cavern. He wanted to go in. He knew he would have to. But he was afraid. What did a life-eater look like? He'd never seen one. How would it treat him? Was it human? People said they were shaped like humans. But who knew the truth. So he stalled and he prayed and he wept. Humters did not show fear. They might feel concern, but not fear. Well, he felt fear. Sometimes he'd explore the nearby thickets. The game here was similar to at home. A few more rabbits. A few less voles. There was a small herd of ass-like horses in a little meadow not far away. Still it would take more than a person to bring one down, so he made due with berries, greens and rabbits. One day, there was a strange scent on the breeze, like human, but not human. He followed it, quietly progressing on his belly till he saw them, a couple, two wood gnomes. We would call them Neanderthals and know them for what they were, simply an exotic strain of people. But to Cro Magnons they were magic, possessed of stout, strong bodies and coarse hard working hands. They were able to endure wintry blasts and searing heat. They spoke. They communicated. But their language was rich with clicks and clucks and other tongue noises, for their jaws and throats could not shape many sounds. Papa watched them work. The  female appeared to be smoothing skins. The male finished chipping off the edge of a fine hand ax. Oh, they knew he was there. That was a given. For their senses were even sharper than Papa's. Yet none would make the move. Violence was not necessary. The Neanderthals picked up scents too. And they had not tasted the scent of a woman or of another man. They knew he was alone and possed no threat. So he studied them for a while. And they studied him in return. Maybe six or seven cubits seperated them. Some horse flies settled on them all and began to bite. The Neanderthals with their heavy, prizefighter-like faces were stoic. Such was life and they had work to do. Papa would have liked to slap the demons away (yes, everyone knew they were demons), but he feared for the noise. Now his tunic provided some upper body protection, but his loin cloth did little to save his lower body, so he had to endure the torment. After a bit, the female pulled out a small, carved out piece of wood, a bowl of sorts. It contained some solidified fat, an oinment. She dipped in her thick fingers and smeared some all over her body. Then she passed the bowl to her mate who did the same. It was warm. They were naked. The oinment seemed to help. Papa sighed. He thought he was quiet, but the male acknowledged him. He stretched out his arm and offered Papa the bowl. Papa slowly inched forward and took it, smoothing the rich, soothing salve onto his exposed skin. Then he said 'thank you' in his own language and gave it back. The Neanderthals never actually made eye contact with him, nor with each other for that matter. The woman picked up the bowl and returned it to her sack. Papa fished in his belt pouch. The Neanderthal stiffened for a moment, but relaxed when Papa placed a few large. pierced beads down on the dirt. He motioned for the male to take them. He did. The gift of graditude was accepted. Each subspecies gathered up their belongings and left. But later that night, Papa sat by his fire thinking about the encounter. And he wondered what his meeting with the life-eated would be like. Now he  knew they were prone to go wandering by moonlight. So there was more chance of a meeting out here than in  there. So he got up, smoothed his tunic, adjusted his loin cloth, prepared a small torch and went inside. The first chamber was large. The band, obviously used it to butcher and dress meat. You could still smell it. Scattered hearthstones littered the floor. The rotting corpse of a child occupied a corner. Strange that this one was not burned and buried (the bones anyway) with the rest. Yet it appeared more sad than grotesque in the weak, orange flickering light. And he wennt in deeper, winding through a rough walled tunnel till he came out into a small chapel. There is nothing else to call it. The undulating walls held beautifully rendered images. Animals, all sorts of bovine creatures. All facing the same direction. He could just barely make out an even larger presentation up ahead in a grander chamber. But he was afraid to move so far from the exit. So he turnned around and left. The torch still burned,but not much. The light was weak. He thought as he passed through the tunnel. Who could have painted such fine dreams? Who could see well enough, even with torch light to do it? It had to be the life-eater. Everyone knew night vision was one of their special powers. He hurried along, anxious for the moonlight. But then he heard it, a breathing, soft but strong. Then came a low, gutteral laugh. Papa froze. His heart almost stopped. After all he owned thirty two or three summers. Slowly he raised what was left of the torch. He saw it. He saw the flickering outlines of a sizeable individual blocking his way.....It was a female...And he saw the fearsome teeth when it smiled.....