RENATE SPENDS TIME IN SODOM AND GOMORRAH

Renate drifted back from the Empire of the Twenty Six Satrapies. The sky was cool and dark. Night hawks kept her company. Far below, the pewter surface of the Dead Sea reflected a skull-like moon. The Fertile Cresent at rest. Quiet and still.

She pulled her arms in close to her body and plunged down into the depths, until she reached the lowest point on Earth. The salty brine could not harm her.  The pressure didn't matter. An inky blackness  revealed its secrets to her patient, vampire eyes.

Sodom and Gomorrah spread out before her, acres of ruins decorated the gloom. And there were whispers among the rough, stonne tombs. Voices called her name. Spirits remembered her from 'better' times. Ghostly fingers caressed her skin.

The oldest life-eater went on, till she came to a one-time house. It was her house, back before the Heavenly Storm. She survived the destruction and emerged from the maelstrom whole and unmarked. Part of God's plan....... Who can say?

And  what was she to the people then, a goddess, a witch, a healer, a whore? Who were they, these organisms unworthy of life? Were their sins unique and different from ours? Did they slaughter the innocent and cry for war? Or were they merely a wee bit self absorbed?

She allowed them to pass through her. The ghosts, I mean. Her heart knew their smiles. She called them by name. They asked her things and she answered, telling of her night-flight to the East. Was she proud of her actions? Did she relish the gore? Was the corpse fragrant? Did its children cry? She told them all.

What will happen to humanity? Where are they going? Can they forget to hate? She wasn't sure. Her own people, those we call Cro-Magnons, slaughtered Neanderthals......And it was a Neanderthal who 'made' her. Darwin was right......Survival of the fittest...... Kill or be killed.... The great apes in the vast, green forests live that way. How far have they come?

So she laid down among the incinerated ruins and went to sleep, as legions of brine shrimp passed by. Perhaps her dreams would hold an answer? And far above the other vampires and the three musicians continued with their plans...........But so did the evil jinns..........

Secrets crawled forth, running into waxy ears like insects in the night. And eager people remembered them, impatient to construct the molten eggs of hell, thrown down to  Earth but twice, in the last days of Satan's favorite war.........

Beware the omelet makers..............

A VAMPIRE NEW YEAR IN THE BLESSED CITY... FAITH NEVER DIES

No cunning, little leather bootkins. No trim, well cut garments. No animal hide watch band or belt of any kind. Jonathon, our thousand year old 'noble' vampire...a reluctant life-eater...prepares for the Biblical New Year. He prepares himself to die. He prepares himself to rise up anew, on Yom Kippur Night.

His clothing is pure and simple, a white linen robe, a white linen prayer cap and clean canvas slippers. Dressed for the grave, he is. For all the faithful know that it is by God's Grace alone that we rise up to face the New Year. And he shares prayers with mortals, deep within an old synagogue (meeting house) down below the present day street level, under a narrow byway in the Holy City. The ancient stained glass windows look out to the hills no more. The centuries leave their mark. Man made structures sink. Street levels rise. But the Light of Heaven knows no barrier. And so they pray, nine pious humans and their more than human visitor.

Jean-Michel came too, a preserved, Catholic, eager to witness what Jesus witnessed. After nine centuries in this Place, this was his first time. So they sang and they confessed. Jonathon cried for mankind...and for his long departed human family too........ no different than the others. Some say the spot is blessed. It is told that during a siege, with the enemy at the gates, people crowded into this sanctuary, begging God for deliverance. Then A Light came down from the window. A strong, clear beam came in from the blocked, earthen view. As it settled upon the worn stone floor, an image appeared bathed in radiance. The fearful looked up to behold a man dressed in Tishbite robes. And they heard the voice of Elijah join their prayers....... The Lord heard them and the enemy was turned back.

Sarah kept devotions in her own way, visiting the sick, sharing her magic and making them well. And 'the dream' went on... whispering through the night rest of all the people.

Now humanity is a funny thing. If you stumbled upon a Jew, or  a Muslim, or a Christian  sincerely lost in communion with their God, all would seem the same. Pure hearts, loving thoughts,  promises for the future...... It's only when they pull back from faith that trouble starts...... Am I right?......True, I speak not of false belief, not those who wear religion as a badge meant to divide them from all the rest. I speak of the Righteous.

Can these unconventional vampires pull it off? Who knows. After all, you, sitting wherever you are, can do the same. These things are not difficult. These things are not hard to understand......And we all know that.

Look at our Andalucian Jew. Look at Jonathon as he recites the blessed verses. His face is so young.....Eightteen years when he 'passed.' Look at Jean-Michel, equally transfixed. And I could take you to Muslim holy places sheltering similar scenes.

Vampires do not hiss. They aren't wild beasts, but people just like you. Most sought not this burden.....but faith never dies. If you've been traveling with us for a while, you know this. If you're new to the journey, welcome. Wander through our tale and learn what you may learn.

Papa sits back in Philadelphia worrying about his troubled Annie. Renate grows impatient. And the elves and cherubs flit through the night on their innocent errands.

Please visit. Pay a call. Sit down and listen.......We will listen too...... Share with us.... Leave a comment.... Forge a link....... Touch a soul.

May this Birthday of Creation be a blessed time for all.
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Questions of a paranormal or spiritual nature? ask @GOTHICVAMPRIP..... find her on twitter..... she knows. 

BETTER KEEP YOUR TOESIES UNDER THE COVERS...LITTLE 'BASTID' ANNIE IS BACK...(and she seems to have forgotten about all those promises to be good)

I gotta spit this out fass. where am I? I do not know. it looks like a huge, going-on-forever wad a dark gray cotton candy. Sometimes I hear voices. There are other people stuck in here wiff me, but I don't know who they are. A few of them sing songs. Most just scream. One goes 'mommy-mommy-mommy-mommy' and never stops.

I think Doctor Franklin put me here. Maybe it was an accident. I think so. But let me tell you, if I ever get out of here, I'll never mess with his big, crystal, magic, music machine (the great armonica) again. Hope I did not break it. Hope they let me back in that place. The Anti-Enchantment-Bureau, I mean. It's really great, like chuckie cheese for a sorta kinda 'dead' little vampire girl. My birfday is comin' up. My magic birfday, I mean. This January I'm gonna be one years old. But if you look at me, you will think I'm like seven and a half. That's how many hoomin years I got. But vampire years are better. You can scare people. You can do 'magic.' Nobody goes crazy if you wanna collect dead cockroaches.....even if they're not dead....what difference does it make?

wilkravitz is typing this. I can smell him. He likes cheese steaks. I can smell him. It feels like I'm gonna get out of here. these little tingly tickle things are all over me...And no, they're NOT the cockroaches, cause most of them are still somewheres down below the cellar in the Chestnut Hill house.

you know, 'Papa' is the one who 'made' me. He's a little mean and crazy sometimes, but that's OK, 'cause he's 'magic' and magic people are that way. I am too. They say I did lots of shitty stuff. Oh well! YA YA YA! My fingers are in my ears. I ain't listenin'. I can't hear what you say! YA YA YA YA! And when I get outta here, I'm gonna sneak up while you're sleeping and bite your toes off! I know. I know. I know. They hate when I do that. And I stopped. I really did. But who cares? Go to hell. Drop dead. I can do what I want. You ain't the boss a me (wish I knew who was). ........

Ooooh, the tinglin' felling's comin' back. If I was still a little hoomin' girl, I'd hafta make a pee pee. And that cotton candy crap ain't so gray no more. There's like this brown color now...maybe a little bit a green too. My hands are comin' back! My hands are comin' back! I can see part a me again. Somebody's laffin'. Sounds like 'old man' style laffin'. I think it's Doctor Franklin. I'm comin' back! I'm comin' back! I'm comin' back!

Thank  you, God! Thank you, God! Thank you, God!

I wanna go somewheres. I wanna play wiff somebody. I wanna do things to other people's kids.

Better keep your toes all covered up tight. 'Cause, you know what I like to do, right?

I'MMMM BACCKKKK!!!!!

I CAN SEE MY SHOESIES!!!   heh heh heh... heh heh heh... heh heh heh...

PICKED CLEAN HUMAN CARCASSES SPOIL APPETITES.....RENATE SENDS A MESSAGE TO A MANIC FOE

Such a simple deception. The Lady Renate knew she was haunting an imposter. The leader of the twenty six satrapies slept elsewhere. This rather ordinary male creature was a doppleganger, put there to foil assassins. And he relished the honor, Happy to die for his ruler. Eager to see him rain fire upon their 'enemies,' whether they be warriors or school children.

The Lady decided to grant his wish. Not the part about raining fire from the sky. She was not that accommodating. But the part about dying for his ruler would be easy to arrange. So she whispered the word 'liar.' And he froze. Moments passed. He bagan to perspire, though much too scared to throw off those bedclothes. He uttered prayers. She responded, levitating him up off the bed, till he was approximately two cubits above the clammy linen. The fine, smooth, satin covers slid back down to the mattress. He attempted to scream. But the viceral shriek caught tight in his throat and she changed it, transforming the pent up energy into a writhing mass of soft, oozing worms........No, they were not earth worms, but a smooth, segmentless variety such as found in the guts of diseased individuals.....Now be quiet! And don't bother me.

The ersatz dictator convulsed and trembled. Waste poured out of his anterior orifice, soiling the night-nest below. And she laughed, stepping out from the pearly, column of illumination to reveal  her true self. The tortured man thought - Cher? I am being bewitched by 'Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves'?! She laughed some more, for his thoughts were easy to decode. She said - I am sent to bring a message.....and you will bear it.
Then she walked over to his body and with strong, sharp nails began to pick and strip the flesh from off his ribs. Did she lick up the blood? I do not know. Yet I do know this. Drinking that ruby elixir is secondary to the vampires cause. They feast on life, drawing in the Heaven sent force and confiscating it from those unfit to live.

The man would have screamed.... if he could have. No sound rose up from his body. No sign registered upon the tick-tock, fire-sparked mechanisms of security. Members of 'the ten thousand' standing ram-rod straight in the hall heard nothing. And she picked and she stripped and she tore. The tight, little shreads of bacon-like meat held fast to the bone. Renate did not mind. That would only multiply his pain. And when she was done. And when he was just about gone, she conjured up a nimbus of grave beetles to gobble up the rest. Then she folded back into the darkness, abandoning her victim to eternity.

Three hours later, two guards entering the chamber were struck dumb by what they saw, for there before them, imbedded in the air, roughly two cubits above the bloody sheets was the nearly picked clean carcass of a man.

And the ruler of the twenty six satrapies was made privy to it all. What a shame he got the pictures during lunch.

THE LADY RENATE PENETRATES A WELL GUARDED BED CHAMBER IN A FABLED CITY NOT FAR FROM THE CASPIAN SEA

She is not speaking to you directly. The Lady Renate, I mean. Not because she is haughty, but simply because it does not always occur to her to do so. This ancient beinng thinks like the wind. Her visionns and conceptualizations race along, richocheting from one image to another. She penetrated the brains of simple shepherds and transformed them into Sumerians. She shaped illiterate reed gatherers along the River Nile into the Nation of Kemet, known to history as the Egyptians. The Lady is usually benign... but not always. So we take her as she is. When she speaks, she speaks. And when she does not speak...we listen to her heart beat. I am one of those able to feel  the rhythm.

Now she progresses through the night, like the sky blood men call lightning. Hello, children of the Canaanites sleeping far below. Greetings, thou contemporary Sumerians.....Your Sculptress passes. And if she created not the clay, she never-the-less gave it form.

Far away, over the horizon lies the Nation of The Twenty Six Satrapies. A veritible pillar of the classical world. Home to the triumphant Medes. Fortress of the people we call Persians. But their 'king' chews bitter herbs. He has made of his heart a fiery stone and keeps counsel with manic forces.

So the Lady Renate penetrates the particles of reality known to you as atoms. She approaches his bed chamber, guarded by modern 'immortals.'  Can they stop her? They cannot. Her power is vast. Her form quite elusive. She stops. She condenses by the bed and calls his name.

The rather ordinary sized man in the wide bed begins to stir. His eye balls race beneath the skin. The moustasche trembles. His fingers grab the linen. But he hears her. His essence feels the call. And he sees. There by his bed stands a figure, a shimmering pillar of soft, pearly light. It speaks...or rather delivers thoughts right into his brain. It 'says'  - HEAR ME!..... And he does. But he gathers up his courage and asks - What manner of ghost addresses me?...........The Lady says - I am not a wayward spirit, angry man, but something greater........... He burrows deep into the bedclothes, as her fingers examine his heart..........She says - Who would  you destroy? Whose children will you burn? What temples shall you shatter?

And mistaking her for a jinn sent to aid his cause, he licks his lips and smiles.......But her purpose is not his......And his lips begin to burn..............

SECRET MESSAGES FROM AN U NKNOWN SOURCE. A VAMPIRE PRIESTESS TEARS THROUGH THE NIGHT

Never mind who I am. You do not need to know. but understand this. The 'goog' ones, the Jonathons and Sarahs and Jean-Michels and the rest have enemies. There are legions of entities who do not want them to succeed, evil jinns, mud demons, nasty laughers.....I could go on and on. We're smeared across creation like a greasy stain. And to think, you humans find fault with vampires and opposing creeds. Such drivel. WAKE UP! Face the real adversary. I believe a certain well known rabbi said it best...None are so blind as those who will not see.

Let me give you something to chew on. It is said that The Messianic Age will begin in a year where all the digits add up to eightteen...the Hebrew numerical representation of God and Life. The year 5706 (we're talking about the original, Biblical  Hebrew Calander here) was such a time. That was sixty six years ago, during the Trinitarian year 1944/1945 (the calanders commence on different dates). But I believe certain demonic actions at a notorious hell hole in Nazi Occupied Poland took care of that. The next opportunity comes 'round again in 5803. That corresponds to the Trinitarian year 2043, or about thirty two years from now. And the Messianic Era does not begin with the birth of that personage. It starts with the birth of his message. So it is extremely likely that he (or she...after all...anything is possible.) is getting ready to pop into existance right now. Anybody got a brand new little cousin? Take a look... You never know.

Do you think the guys who play for 'the other team' are happy about that? Let me tell you... they're not. And as we know from past history, nothing is beyond them. No reaction is too extreme. How might they postpone the pivotal event? What way is easiest? Which is most direct?

Renate has her own suspicions. True, in her near eternal lifetime she's seen revelations come and go. But a revelation is still a revelation and not to be trifled with. One bomb...that's all it would take. Precision is not an issue. A radius of say five miles would suffice. Just pinpoint the city. Kill all the inhabitants therein for the sake of the one. Do you think they would not do it?......Please, don't be so dumb.

And who lusts after such lethal toys? Which ruler yells the loudest? Who dreams of nation killing? Who sings songs of death before the congress of sovereign states? Which misguided inheritor of a great and worthy empire makes such threats? ......Look, do I really have to tell you......You know.

So Renate sublimates through the midnight sky. She moves toward him. She seeks him. Can he be turned? Watch the news and you will know.

True, the powerful ones are quite capable of controlling things. Old and venerable vampires (excuse me. they disapprove of that term. call them life-eaters instead) can take control. But puppet masters they are not. The power lies within the living. Do you think this is only a narrative...some after-dark, digital ramble? Well, if that's the extent of your comprehension, so be it. But you're wrong. For the story mentions you...It mentions all of you. Which part will you play?

THE EARTH MOTHER OF ALL EARTH MOTHERS TAKES US BACK TO THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF 40,000 B.C.E.

I am the Lady Renate. Tell  me if I have addressed you directly before. I do not remember. Things are quiet in the City of Faith. All the little boys are minding their own business. Who knows? Pehaps it's 'the dream'? And most of the dreamers are afraid to own up to it. They keep quiet, lest others thing them insane. But they are not insane. They are awake.

Do you know that I was born at a time before distinct races, as we know them today, existed? Yes, yes, yes, there were people with white skins and brown skins and sallow skins and black skins. But the arrangement was more of a melange, or what somme call creole. I myself possess the form of a rather statuesque, Mediterranean beauty. My brother looked like a Hun. My grandfather like Jerry Lewis (but with less bear grease in his hair). That's how it was. Humans had only penetrated into the European theatre of habitation quite recently. And the discovery of the Americas (the first discovery, I mean) was still ten thousand years in the future.

How clean it all was. Every stream ran pure and clear. All the clouds were fresh and new. And  grasses sported a shade of green unseen since the time of the Scythians. We ran naked across the plains, laughing as we scattered the birds. The grasshoppers were quite delicious. I could eat five times 'toes and fingers.' That's one hundred to you. And I grew to be a great woman, a Wise Woman, in my pack. Twenty six 'flames' we were. What was a 'flame'? Well, think of a soul. It meant about the same thing.

I sat with the men. And they attended to my counsel. I spoke with the voice of the Sky. I channeled the will of God. Maybe it was because I never bled. That was usually taken as a sign among my people. It made me special. It made me strong. Other females rarely ventured far from home. We lived in a collection of wig-wams (that's what they looked like) arranged across the mouth of a large cavern. Were we afraid of attack? By animals, maybe. But not by humans. For organized bands were so far apart. Meetings were rare, usually resulting in quickly arranged 'maiden swaps.' You see, even we recognised the dangers of too much inbreeding. Sometimes the girls would cry. Yet after a few nights of almost continuous sexual attention...hot, little caresses.....luscious tastings....and slow, feather-soft massages they'd become quite distracted. Our leader, the 'Wolf Man,' would direct them to chose. Which man would they bow (you'd probably say 'bend over') for? And that was it. Congratulations to the new, not quite blushing bride. But as I said, I was not like the other females. I was the Wise Woman, a best beloved of the Sky. The night was mine, for the stars shone down for me. So I wandered, observing nature and learning what I could. Did the animals molest me? No.  For I smeared myself with noxious gall. Few creatures can withstand that.

But what I met was not a creature.......and, strictly speaking, not a human, at least not our kind of human.  Your learned men and woman would label him Neanderthal, since the bones of the breed were first uncovered in the valley of the Neander River. But they foraged all over. Some bands occupied territories not far from this city of Jerusalem we find ourselves in now. Others sojouned along the Bay of Biscay, in what is now called France. Not brutes, as you have been told, but attractive beings with an exaggerated gymnast's build and broad, pugnatious faces. Mine had sandy hair and green eyes. Did he ravish me? Yes.....in more ways than one, for he bore the enchantment. He was a life-eater.....a vampire 'caveman' if you will. Life must have been hard for him. 'Human' victims were spread so thin. Constant travel was a must. Rest came under a pile of mud and leaves. The earliest vampires would occassionally share dens with bears, especially during hibernation. Indeed, some still do so today, as regular visitors to this nocturnal conversation already know.

The second oldest vampire alive today, the one you call Papa, is my 'son,' but he came along much later. I was approximately twelve thousand years old by then. Did I have other 'children'? Yes, but they are all dead, or have been carried off to other realms in the sky. Am I talking about aliens? Of course. Oh, the things Icould tell you. If only you would understand. Not now. Some other night. For I have 'miles' to go before I sleep. And I have 'promises' to keep.

It's time to 'quicken' things. The three musicians are not enough. The miraculous parlor tricks of Jonathon (my 'grandson,' as yet unaware of his true potential) and the others are too slow. So I go to whisper in the ears of powerful men. May The Sky stretch over us. And may they listen to my councel.