A SUBTLE TOUCH

Annie stood on a stool and leaned over the old, chipped counter in a little kitchen used by the staff. The sink was filled with dirty dishes from the night shift. Sticky 'lunch' plates and everything else. She had to wash them. Papa made her do it. He threatened her with another 'Pow, right to the Sun!' punishments. And she did not exactly like that. So she washed. But she splashed. Zeke, the night guard who got along with her, ate an apple as he watched her work. Squirt, squirt from the lemon dish soap. Wipe, wipe with the new sponge. Shake, shake over the sink. Rinse again and jam into the plastic rack. Actually, I think she liked it. She said - I remember eatin shit with these...Zeke said - A little fart like you don't needa talk that way, you little fart you.... But she just gave him a dirty look, as she blew the hair outta her eyes.... He continued - And what  do you know about eatin' like a hooman, you little demon you?.....I know I can use 'em to stab your eyes out - she whisperd. And besides, you take plenty a drops when you can git it.......She meant the blood. Zeke, like all the other familiars, was hooked on the blood. It made 'em feel good, healthy like and light on their feet. So he just nodded when she said that and threw his apple in the trash. Papa was out for the evening. Probably wandering 'round the shipyard, tryin' to sniff out what he could about the others. Oh, he knew they had Baylah in there. I'm not too sure whether she was such a good 'sender' or he was a better 'receiver.' But  either way, they managed to get together.  So he was just biding his time.  Let that old Doctor Franklin and his cronies do their stuff. Let 'em bring the others back. Papa felt bad about them elves and cherubs. He missed 'em too. But he had faith in that dirty old man......Now Baylah was stuck dab in the middle of the same magnetic field as Jonathon/Tomas was when he first got here. Only she agreed to it. They told her it was because they had to study her in order to determine if she was basically the same type of creature as Jonathon and any other vampires they happened to encounter over the years. Well, it don't take much to get an exhibitionist like Baylah to peel down for nobody. And she jumped up into that invisible spider web like a schoolyard snot-nose onto a trampoline. Started wavin' at folks and twistin around. I heared about pole dancin' but this was much better. People came in to watch. A lot of the guys in the black suits filed in. I think somebody even put on some music. If I remember right, it was some of that Lady GaGa whatja mi callit. People even clapped. Baylah said - Thank you very much. Make sure you tip the waittresses on your way out........Doctor Franklin smiled. He just fiddled away with them knobs  and toggle switches. The pretty, young doctorix (who we all know by now wanted Jon/Tomas to make her into a vampire) dictated some readings into some kinda magic-talkin' machine. And then it was over. That magnet contraption began to hum down. Baylah slowly descended to the floor. Somebody handed her a robe. She thanked them and threw it over a shoulder and went over to talk with some of them black suit guys. Jonathon asked the Doctor. He said - Are we all alike? What did you learn?..........The jowly old gent (wearing one of his favorite, green Eagles sweatsuits) answered - Yes, but there are subtle differences, rather like a fingerprint. Remember, she comes fom another 'chain.' Papa, the one responsible for you, didn't make her. She comes from a lady life-eater, so the 'hormones' or some  force like them, are a bit divergent. Now Sarah commes from the same chain as you. That's obvious. You made her. But our beautiful, tawny princess might just supply something we need to bring the others back........Papa was listening through about twentytwo feet of concrete. And he was sure he could sublimate through, 'cause he really did want to be there. But he waited. The night was close. Though it was not tonight......... So he 'culled' hisself two low lifes outside the wrong type a tattoo parlor and then walked back home.....

SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION

So I knew it would go down that way. They found the guy behind the dumpster just outside Margate, which is about five miles from Atlantic City. But they didn't exactly find him. They found the residue, the part left after the blue fire does its business. The cops did not know what to make of it. The medical examiner almost had a stroke. They were living through an episode of The X Files. Shit like this was not supposed to happen. But it did happen. And they shut it up. The wife was told, strictly off the record of course, that her son-of-a-bitch, low-life huzzzbandd was a victim of spontaneous human combustion. She got a lawyer (another scum bag). She got a doctor, a friend of her hubby's. And they couldn't  find nothing different. Still she would not give up. That's when some big guy from the casino operator's commision or some place contacted her. They don't appreciate crazy stories like that. It tends to scare the marks away. Sends 'em to Philly, or Delaware, or some flea bitten bingo parlor or something. So they tell her to shut up and if she does, they will give her a check for sevenhundred and fifty thousand dollars. Now her hubby was worth some money. But three quarters of a million dollars for nothing is still three quarters of a million dollars for nothing. So she shut up. She shut up real good. And nobody actually suspected me. I was the one who came back to the table. I was the one who fiddled with the melted ice cream in my dish, just like I was really eatin' it. It's not like they did not also find human urine behind that dumpster. Hell, lots of guys pissed back there. And it was too old. They couldn't tell who it dripped out of.. So what we had was just another case of that pesky spontaneous human combustion. You gotta be careful child. There's a lot a that shit goin' 'round. What did I do? I stayed put for a couple weeks. Then I left. Who was gonna stop me? My rich boyfriend? Look, I love him and all, but what the hell could he do? And he knew that. He knows what I am. After a few days, he came back too. So I wandered around the city picking  up on things. I can sense things real good. Good as any of them Pineys we had with us. I knew where Jonathon was . I sniffed out that Papa dude. For a while I was gonna  hook up with him. But I also detected the stink of that little Annie.  And I did not want to be a nurse maid to some bitchy, little, dead, white girl. The hell with that. So I hung around the old shipyard. Those guys in the black suits thought I was some kind of street walker. But I schooled them real fast. Showed 'em my fangs. Let 'em feel 'em too. Told 'em I knew they had a vampire in there. Said I had something to tell them. So the next thing you know, I'm relaxing in  a jacuzzi, when this old, fat putrid lookin' white man comes rollin' in. I look at him and it's like I'm gonna go crazy, 'cause here is the guy from a one hundred dollar bill asking me if I want an extra towel. Yeah I took that towel. And damned if he didn't watch me dry off. I asked him. I said - Who the hell are you, Ben Franklin? He just smiled and belched and I knew that he was. We all heard stories about him. That he never died and all. Oh, he was no vampire. this was something else. I heard those tales. But I never paid much attention to them. What  do I care what the bastid who invented bifocals does? But now it seems he has invented a lot more than that. And in the nights to follow, I was able to help him very, very much........

VAMPIRE MARDI GRAS

Papa toyed with the idea of crucifying little Annie. It might not destroy her, but it would tend to teach her a lesson. She just wouldn't stop messing with the mummies and certain people in administration were getting a bit touchy over that. He had to pay them off with countless tiny vials of his blood. And if this stuff went on, hallf the population of Philadelphia would be over one hundred years old in a few years. Well, 'few' to a vampire. He could sneak up on her and grab her, then (real fast) drain away a lot of her blood. But that would only drive her out on the streets lookin' for refills. And what with Mardi Gras and all, Philadelphia Vampirism did not need that. So he scared her. Put a little thought in her head. More than a thought, actually. It looked real. What'd he do? He 'transported' her all the way out to the corona of the sun. Left her twitchin' and hangin' above the very surface of hell. She cried and cried. It was almost a shame. I think she even peed herself a little. And don't ask me how a scrubby vampire brat can do that, but she did.. Oh, she promised, she promised to be good. No more messin' with them mummies. No more twistin' 'em into nasty positions. None of that stuff. And he trusted her, not forever, but say like for the next fortyeight hours. So he dumped her in a room with a not too grateful familiar, threw in a bunch of new coloring books and crayons and stomped out. Ah, the air outside felt good. Winter was dying. Spring was pushin' out. And everybody less than thirty years old was makin' for a monster drunk on South Street. Mardi Gras! And why not? The atmosphere in the old districts of this town have their own special romance. None of that wrought iron stuff. But if you forgot about all the drivin' to the right, you might think you were in London or something. And the cozy, trendy boites on South Street (where the hippies meet) were ready for it. Now Papa did look his best. Sharp styled salt and pepper hair. Trim, little Jimmy Fallon suit (but in a 46 long) and tight, close-fitting, walkin' boots. A regular Mardi Gras gent, he was. Had a list. Not on paper. In his head.  Two, maybe three bad individuals gonna go poof into blue flames tonight. One of 'em was sittin' in the Old Bookbinder's seafood house right now, scarfin' down a beeeg lobster. Givin' some to his bouncin' around little sweetie too. Man could that girl chirp. She HAD to know she was actin'? But he didn't care. Why should he? It was just a hobby. But the way he exploited innocent young kids in that corporation of his wern't no hobby. And that stuff wasn't nice. Worked them to death for a year. Sat down when it was time to talk about the first raise, then fired 'em. Why be fair when you can count on a new wide-eyed crop each year? But one young girl took it personal. She really needed the money. Her family had problems. Boss man didn't wanna know. Hell, he didn't even care. And she wern't the only one. So a little bit later tonight, after he ate and after he left a hefty tip (never knew who might be watching) this son-of-a-bitch gonna pay the piper. The other one on the list was even worse. A clergyman of sorts, some kind of priest. But this one be jonesin' more for young nubile kiddie-bodies, than for savin' they souls.  So he was gonna twist real good before his passin'. The third one? Well maybe Papa'd let that bastid live, since he was tryin' to be moral and all. Since he wanted to go back to the 'once a month, only culling the bastids in visions ' rule. You know how it is? He ran his tongue over them teef. Sharp as ever. Then he strolled into a likely spot for a shot o' Jack. No, he did not drink it. Just enjoyed the aroma, I guess. And then again, he may a been takin' inventory. Were you in that place? Who knows. You could be next.....It's time to go mop up that business executive dude now. Probably gonna shuffle him off into an alley. Maybe crush his wind pipe a little, shatter a wrist or two. Nothing fancy. Just good old basic fun.......Make him shit hisself a little. I like to watch. I know it's bad, but Zebulon likes to watch......Hope I'm sayin' this right. The creole accent I am tryin' to affect is not natural to me. But....allez le bon temp roulez!.....Did I get is right?....................................................................................NOW FOR ALL YOU WANTIN' TO TES' YOUR ESP ABILITIES.....HERE GOES.......THIS IS WHAT WE WERE 'BROADCASTIN''..............1) Up till WWII, many world leaders employed vampire bodyguards, but with the advent of intrusive mass media, they had to stop..........2) In fact, one of the former First Ladies of the United States had a vampire 'walker' to escort her on those occasions when the President was not available.........3) A group of vampires (big ones from history) are operating a string of Pizza Huts up in Alberta, Canada right now as we speak....Why Pizza Huts? Don't ask me. They crazy that way.

A HAREM?

It is I, Zebulon. did you hear my words coming out of the Charlie Sheen mouth? You knew that 'tiger's blood' line was mine. I know you did. But I am back. I do not want that boy of the Pacific Coast to die. And besides, I grew tired of him. So I am here now, listening in, making things happen and talking threw the fingers of that wilkravitz person. Where are we? Oh, yes, we are in the underground, alchemy center of Doctor Franklin and the mysterious, black suited men. Jonathon/Tomas is there along with other, shall we say, petrified members of the family. That's where we are now, in a great chamber housing some kind of huge sound machine. The Great Armonica, they all call it. One of the little cherubs lies submerged in a cask of water. The old scientist activated the machinery. Jonathon/Tomas stands off to the side, with his arm around the young doctorix. They put on some type of sound buffers. Well, the humans do. My trim, 'young' Spanish life-eater doesn't need them. The gigantic crystal discs begin to spin and hum. Actually, the sound is quite nice, like an angels' chorus. Maybe not a top level angels' chorus (believe me, I have heard the best) yet still extremely pleasant. Barely visible rings of sounnd spread out in all directions. The water (if it is water) starts to vibrate. Then it changes color, still transparent, but with a dazzling, opalescent hue. The doctor carefully goes over and looks down into the cask. He drops in a few pellets. The others draw near too. They all wait. The cherub changes. It's gray, rough, concrete-like surface slowly returns to a more 'human' appearance. The eyes open. Jonathon/Tomas gasps. They can see the green color of the eyes. They tiny lips smile. A chubby arm reaches up to them. Jonathon/Tomas wipes a tear from his eye. It's working. It's working. ....And then it stops. The machine slowly winds down. The 'air' returns to normal. And the little one in the water filled cask returns to stone. The doctorix leaned into Jonathon/Tomas and cried. Doctor Franklin said - That was close. That was close........Some attendants came in and carted the little cherub away. Our vampire and his doctorix wandered off to feed the old mermaid, the sea hag, as they called her. This time she got a bucket of squid. She liked squid. Maybe it was the raw slimy texture, but she loved it. Sucked it right down like spaghetti. The two lovey-doveys stripped off their clothes and dove in with her. The water was kept fairly sterile, so the human did not have any problem. The vampire did not have to worry about anything. Jonathon/Tomas liked to swim in pools. His wealthy uncle had one back in Old Granada. I think there was one in the Seville house as well. So he and his pleasure friend traced lazy paths through the water. The sea hag smiled and clapped her hands. Then she started swimming around them, herding them ever closer together, until they touched. That's all it took. They retreated to the shallows and began exploring each others bodies. Their 'hostess' sucked up the last of the squid before slipping into a secluded, underwater, fiberglass lair. She watched them make love. She watched them do it. And she londed for the company of others of her kind. .......... They sat on the edge of the pool when they were satisfied. They kissed. They caressed. It was warm in there, so they waited for the moisture to drip from their bodies. The doctorix spoke. But Jonathon/Tomas knew what she'd say. She wanted the blood. She hungered for it.....And he was losing the strength to say no. How long would this go on? Was she sincere, or were others pushing her toward this decision?......They did want more vampires around here. And what could be better than a domestic one, a controlible one, one of their own?.........What would Sarah think?.......Could he do it? Should he do it?.....How would he handle a harem?

'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.......