SENTIMENTAL PARTINGS IN THE MOOM LIGHT...A VAMPIRINA FINDS HER TRUE PATH

Renate opened her eyes. Dream time was over. She saw shamans chanting 'round glowing embers. She watched cave bears devouring men. And there was no answer...No beacon from above. But she heard a voice. It was a human voice. It was her mother's voice. And it said --- Be not the flood, but the rain. So she knew. She has her response.

Her body rose up from the depths and broke  through the star kissed surface. Irridescent microscopic life forms spangled her hair and skin with ghostly splendor. Save for the moon, she was all alone. Now the Dead Sea is not wide, twenty miles at best. So she swan toward the shore to rejoin the world of the living.

While westward in the Holy City, Jonathon spent time with the newborn, Lailah. They sat on a low, stone wall, encompassing the tomb of a saint. The silver kiss of Selena (poetic name for the moon) caressing every feature. Two handsome night folk, discussing many things. Her father was there too. He heard the promise. He heard the words and he believed them. The Sephardic vampire seemed sincere. And Lailah was so connfused. She needed her own kind. True, even on her own, she'd discovered many things. And Jean-Michel was always close at hand. Yet the spare Armenian cleric could not stand the tears. So he simply let her go, trusting in the power of the others to keep her, at least spiritually, close at hand. Then he gave her a small, ebony Cross. He took it from his own neck and placed it 'round her own. She hugged him. They cried. Indeed, they all cried.

Jonathon said -- Fear not. She may wander far, but (and he touched the fabric over the cleric's heart, but her essence will be here. Speak and she will answer. No 'thing' can seperate you from her.

The man brushed away a tear and said -- Ah, yes. I know.....The words of  'The Dream.' I have been there too. Jonathon embraced him. The night folk lingered for a few heart beats and left. The cleric remained where he was, sitting in the moon light,  lost in thought and prayer.

Renate met them as they rounded the corner. The three vampires, Jean-Michel, Jonathon and his 'gandmother,' surrounded the waif-like young one. And by their power, lifted her up, till they all sublimated through the darkness and disappeared.

Sarah knew. She felt it. But she had other things to do.

Remember the plan? Remember the Great Reconciliation? Two sovereign kingdoms, one called Israel, the other Ishmael. The Brothers side by side. Remember the Peace...The Pax Semetica, for lack of a better term? ...... Well, Sarah remembered. And she had miracles to conjure.......

Perhaps they just may work.........

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If you like this most unvampire of vampire tales, please spread the word. Tell others. Pass on the key http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/  ........ so that they may forge their own links in our chain.......

RIDING DOES SO MUCH FOR 'THE SEAT'...JUST ASK JONATHON

Pssst! Over hear.... just beyond your favorite nightmare...It is I. It is Zebulon. Telling the tale of my death saddened me. That's why I've been missing. Do you want to know where I have been? Well, Papa knows, for he saw me there, drifting through the dim, cold seas of Europa (a Jovian moon). The manta-ray-people are such welcoming souls. And, since I remembered to manifest a body, their whip-like, undulating tails tickled so. I quite enjoyed it.

Other visitors were there too. Beings from afar. A bit like the merfolk back on Earth, but with dolphin like skin and nostrils up where Hindu women sometimes sport crimson. Europa is very popular. Other stars consider it the intellectual center of our solar system. Earth is too violent...too primative... too tribal. But they do like the cheese-steaks sold in Philadelphia. And the guacamole in Los Angeles, plus the pizza in New York have devoted followings too. Human eaters are particularly rare. Why waste time butchering such blubbering cry babies, when they can feast on fatter, though equally emotional, piggies? I'm sure you don't need me to remind you of the similarities bwtween the two varieties of live stock.

Seems like the improvement of the breed (the humans, I mean) will take time. How fond they are of their perverse hatreds. Worse than drugs. You know who I think will win? The micros... The 'brighten the corner where you are' people. It just seems so much easier  that way. No all encompassing, global creeds, or closing act, showy miracles are necessary. Build it all from the ground up. Jonathon actually thinks that way too. Well, deep in his heart he does. Yet so many strange and wondrous things have happened to him during this quest. Remember the ordeal in the alps? Remember the Hall of the Mountain King? Boy, wasn't that a 'mouthful'? So he exited the New Year's Service and went 'home' to change his clothes. Yes, yes, yes....of course he went back to the fine, leather bootkins and the closely tailored trousers. Why not? He looks so good in them. Lucky for him he hails from a time when 'having a firm seat' was greatly esteemed? You know how those medieval Andalucians felt about their horseflesh? Fussed a lot with their hair too, they did. His father kept two bondswomen solely for the purpose of washing, arranging and styling hair. Persians, I think they were. And why not? Such a skilled, sophisticated people they are. Have  you ever seen their miniatures? The paintings, I mean. It's been said that Spanish culture is a distillation of Persian chivalry refracted through Moorish eyes...... How poetic.

So Jonathon went back out onto the streets. Turned quite a few heads he did. The long, dark, curly hair didn't hurt. How lucky those bondswomen gave him a good once over just before he died. He went searching for Lailah. The 'fifteen' year old, naive, newborn vampirina wasn't hard to find. Her scent was still so human. Would Sarah approve? ........Why do you ask such things? We are in the midst of the Time of Atonement. Cleanse your mind. He seeks not for a paramor, but for a ward. She needs guidance. And he and the well formed French Knight will play Higgins and Pickering to her Eliza.....Sarah can be Mrs. Pierce... That is if she's interested....... For our Sarah may have a different role in mind..........

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..............