SOMETIMES IT AIN'T THE CAT WHAT GOT YOUR TONGUE.....SARAH DINES ON A HUMAN TRAFFICER OUT BY THE CEMENT POND

Sarah strolled through the semi-arid parklands, so like the California she was used to. Jonathon's forebearers had tombs there. He showed her one once, a rough stone vault it was. No bodies. No bones. Centuries of jackals had taken care of that. But you could still see the indentations in the floor and along the raised ledge. Everyone thought people were shorter then. Well, some were. The average height was a bit less, but tall people managed to get born too. The 'bathtubs' (that's what the fresh, young vandals called them) in Jonathon's ancestors' dead-house measured just over four cubits long... big enough to accommodate a six footer. Now remember, he came from a priestly, noble family, so I guess they ate good. Not so much of the wheat and the chaff in their diet. More like partridge and fatted calf, if you know what I mean. Oh, yeah, here's another thing. Most  folks who ain't Jews think them animal sacrifices they had back then were purely meant to send high priced appetizers up to God. But the Almighty must a already et. People knew that. Priests knew that. Them sides a beef and plump little doves just got cooked on the Holy Brazier, that's all. Underneath, on a lower level, were the Temple kitchens, where the charred victuals were used to feed families of functionaries, as well as the poor. Kind a like that yeller government cheese they toss out to hungry folk in America from time to time, only juicier and  less likely to give ya the shits.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.....It's still me, your good, old Heebie-Geebie Man. So don't expect me to maintain that hoity-toity talkin style I had for most a the first paragraph. Damn, did I just say 'paragraph'? what the hell does that mean? Most I ever read was the back of a Post Toasties box, or them Bazooka Joe bubblegum jokes.. Still, dead folks do manage to learn themselves a lot. And I was cooked to death, just like them ancient sacrifices. So maybe I am special? Why else would 'they' have sent me to tell all this to you? Know how many heavenly dead folks they got? Shit, they got billions a dead folks from planets all over. Some a them got two malfs. Could tell it to ya twice as fast. But ya got me. So grab onto all ya jiggly bits, 'cause we taken off.....

Let's see. I was tellin' you 'bout Sarah. She just walkin' and thinkin'. Just walkin' and thinkin'. Culled herself a nasty son-a-bitch just sixteen minutes earlier. Caught up wiff him outside a hotel. A real champion bastid, if you know what I mean. Promised dumb, little gals from them Tobacco Road villages they got just a ways to the east that he'd get em high paying jobs over where the rich folks lived along the Persian Gulf. Only profession they ever wound up in was the world's oldest. Nobody cared. Families pretended they were dead anyway. One gal did manage to escape, made it all the way back home too. Know what happened to her? Shit, man! They lopped her head off! She a whore! She ruined. They can't make do wit that.  What kind a husband she gonna get? Not even as a bargain basement priced, semi-ugly, slightly hunched over third wife. Damn, she better off without a head.

So Sarah coornered the bastid who caused it all. She made eyes at him over some 'highball' at the hotel bar. Probably thought she was some kind a hootchie. They got high priced ones in your better class a hotel, even in this town. Don't believe me? Go read the Bible. You'll find em. He follows her out behind the high dive by the pool. The lights they got pointed at the palms and bushes and all can't reach back there. He grabs her and starts gettin spit all over her face. She lets him do it too, like for a minute or two.. Then she whispers in his ear. Tells him she his angel of death. He think she crazy. No big deal. Crazy gals can be a lot a fun. But then she says it again. And her nails start cuttin into the back a his hairy neck. Her breath gets hot too. He tries to pull away. But she a vampire. She strong. He can't go no where. So he cries, only she squeezin onto his throat so hard nuthin comes out. Then he starts jerkin around, like he havin a coniption fit or something. Face goes all red. Eyes pop out like on that little sqeezy pink, rubber doll they sell. Starts gaspin for air. Big, fat, white-coated tongue comes right through his swelled up lips. And he lookin at her. He just lookin at her.  He beggin.  He really beggin. She can feel the words right there on his no good soul. Damn, do I know what that is like.

Then she does it. Then she takes him. Saw him in a vision, so she couldn't let him go. Just leans in a little bit closer, takes that dead lookin purple tongue in her mouth, sucks it back into her throat real good...and bites it off. Just slices it right off. Don't even spit it out. Just wads it over into her cheek and drinks up all his blood, right from the torn-up stump. Took her bout a hundred and forty four heartbeats to drain that sloppy bastid dry. Took just as long for the cool, blue flame (which miraculously consumes the remains) to finish him off. Some guy from the kitchen comes running out to douse the fire. But by the time he gets there it's all over. Just a thick, greasy smudge down on the cement, givin off a few, skinny wisps a smoke. Nobody there, but a couple little lizards ran out from the bushes to lick up all the mess...........

Damn! I was gonna tell you what went on inside that house tonight. Only I gotta sublimate back up to the Baton Rouge part a heaven now,  'cause.......I hear my mama callin.........

So we gotta leave things off for now.....until we meet again.......

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REMEMBER, scroll down to the bottom of yesterday's post for some really interesting blogs (other people's, I mean). Just click on the links. You'll be there in a jiffy.......Got a  good free music site too...... If you want to follow all the craziness on Twitter, just link onto me at @wilkravitz.....And please tell others about all that goes on at http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/   THANK YOU VERY MUCH

A NEW DISEMBODIED VOICE EXPERIENCED A BIT OF SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION OF HIS OWN

I am gonna tell you what it is that's goin' on tonight. The job fell to me. That's what they say. So let me tell you a little bit about myself. They call me the Heebie-Geebie Man. I got that moniker during them 'No Drinkin'' days, what you all call Prohibition. Big shot racketeers used to pay me to sit on a street corner and watch things. They wanted to know who went by. I told 'em. They wanted to know which cop had a real strong addiction to money. I found out.

People used to say--Damn, Gus (whoops, I said me name) quit eye ballin' us like that. You givin' everybody the heebie-geebies. I just played like I was a drunk half wit or something, spittin' up on the sidewalk, beggin' for nickles. And they bought it. They, when it got dark, I'd slip into certain places, secret places. These were like the speak easies behind the speak easies. Gent'd be mushin' up wit some little boopsie, or playing five card draw. You  know, the big shots. The Capo de Tutti Capo. Give me like say a half grapefruit soused in gin, wit a lotta red cherries on top. Sit mme down at a table and get me to talkin'. I could remember everythin'. And they knew it. Spit it all out like a ticker-tape machine. Told 'em who needed shootin'. Who needed leg-breakin'. Oh, they 'specially enjoyed messin' wiff knee caps. Dat was sumpin' to see. Made fat fellas sing like canaries. Heh, heh, heh. I enjoyed that. Time I left, say like one or two in the morning, had like maybe fifteen, twenty dollahs in my pockets.

But then one day, some little, snot nosed, shit ass kid sneezed right in my face. Some flew right in my malf. Up my nose too. And eighteen hours later, I gave birth to the worst cold of my life. Eyes runnin'. Mucus escapin' from almost every orafice. Razor blades doin' tap dances up and down my throat. Clammy sweats runnin' down my fore head, my back, my groin. Hands shook so bad I couldn't even beg for no nickles. People said - Damn, Gus, what you doin' out here, fixin' to die? I just give 'em my half wit laugh, tremble a little... and they leave me alone. you see, I could not go in no wheres. I had responsibilities. I had a job to do. And wasn't no American Federation of Labor for me to run to if the boss got mad. Shit, boss get mad, he'd just shoot me....If I was lucky......Only that day... I wasn't lucky.

Greasy Faced Hopkins was tryin' to squeeze his fat ass into other people's business. And certain gents needed to be kept appraised as to his comin's and goin's.  I was supposed to be the fella doin' the appraisin'.  Promised me a new, slightly worn suit for it too. Maybe like an overcoat to go wiff it. One of the good ones wiff hardly no bullet holes, or crumbs in the pockets. Coulda used a warm coat. Coulda used a few snot rags too, 'cause that cold was killin' me (little did I know). Must a been like the gripe, or the flu, or the Saint Vitus Dance I had. God damn that bastid kid. Why he have to go and spray me like that? But then the sky did the same f**k*n' thing, 'cause it started drippin' ice cold water all over my  dirty head.. Maimie from the candy store ran out wiff a cup a coffee. Said she gonna have me carted off and locked up in the ha-ha hotel.  But when I give in to lettin' her throw some old rug on top a me, she lemme alone.

I don't know. Figured that coffee shoulda kept me awake. But that sickness dug in so hard, I couldn't help it. So when Greasy Face come by...Hell, he come by two or three times, I shamed to say. I never seen it, 'cause I was layin' senseless in a steamin' hot pool of my own vomit. That's how they found me. Man, when that happened, I got  totally cured real fast. Started cryin'. Started blubberin'. Didn't even mind bein' stripped naked and chained to some old, chipped chair from The White Castle. That what they wanted to do...howdy doody...that their business. Just let me live.... Am I right? .........Well, pains me to say, but them bastids didn't see it that way...... Shoulda knowed when they set me up in an empty, cement floored warehouse........ I mean, like who wants a lot a collateral damage? Am I right?

After I peed myself and evacuated my bowels  real good a few dozen times, they started scratchin' they heads and yawnin'. Looked a little bit bored too. What they expect me to do, sing songs, tell jokes? Shit, I ain't no professional.. Guy lights this torch. Made it outta some rolled up pages from the old Philadelphia Ledger. Starts pokin' it at me. In all the worst places too. Like pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, 'cept he  a cheater, 'cause he ain't wearin' no blindfold. Made me shriek and scream so bad they had to shove an old pimple ball in my malf.... I don't know. Maybe they woulda let me live. Only some runty, little mug comes scramblin' in. Goes right up  to the Big Boss and  starts whisperin' sumpin in his least favorite ear. Big Boss gets a look on his face like they just pushed his best mama into some gen-you-wine, champion, Hawaiian volcano...... So that sorta put the kai-bosh on it for me, 'cause then he looks up and yells --- Give that shithead a baff!!!

Some assistant-knee cap-breaker-in-trainin', like what you would call an intern today,  goes into a back room and comes runnin' out wiff a big, square can a gasoline, which he proceeds to slosh all over my tremblin' body (not from the cold no more, but in anticipation of the antidote they was fixin' to give me). Couldn't even cry wiff that pimple ball shoved all the ways  passed  my teef. Just sat there, thrashin' back and forth till that old White Castle chair flipped over on its side and slammed me down on that cold, hard floor.  Shame I didn't break my neck, 'cause just like one a them square, little hamburgers, they commenced to fire grillin' me right there on the spot......And you know how long it takes to cook a hamburger, don't cha?

Look, sorry I wasted all your time wiff my story......But I just wanna get you ready for what's comin' up.....

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Want more vampire stuff? Try these worthy blogs
1) http://mondovampire.blogspot.com/
2) http://biting-edge.blogspot.com/
3) http://vampirewire.blogspot.com/
4) http://theblogthattimeforgot.blogspot.com/  actually sci-fi and fantasy, but why quibble?
This one isn't about vampires, just a great, general site, for when you need a taste of intelligent reality
 5) http://samuelclemons.blogspot.com/
And now some more vampire
6) http://twisted-kingdom.blogspot.com/
7) http://vampchix.blogspot.com/
8) http://facebook.com/billytolley/  iPhone 40.382701,- 105.519895 (appears on & produces various cable paranormal shows..... he knows where all the bodies are buried, so to speak)
9) http://www.nbc.com/Last_Call_with_Carson_Daly/  cool stuff, great host, vampires love that show
10) http://LisaBouchard.com/ interact with a worthy writer of the weird and wonderful
11) http://paranormalityuniverse.blogspot.com/ choices, choices, choices. the name says it all!
12) http://OnlineBusinessTrainer.com/ click onto this site, run by the illustrious Aymee Buckhannon for free web seminars aimed ay helping you create attractive, easy to use websites and blogs.
13) http://the-vampire-diaries-episode.blogspot.com/ keep up with the hot Abercrombie & Fang set
14) http://kirstiealley.com/ schmooz with a genuine, been-there-done-that, media legend. leave a comment.
15) http://dawnsdaily.com/ discover a fresh, new, sane, compelling voice, with important things to say & share.
16) http://markeverettstone.com/ very well done site by accomplished fantasy author. urban enchantment, adventure and mythology...a heady brew.
17) http://jewsmuse.blogspot.com/ find out where Jonathon and a few of the others are coming from.
PLEASE REMEMBER TO TELL FRIENDS ABOUT US HERE AT http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/

VAMPIRE WONDERLAND+++++ Your one stop site (well, in some cases, one stop and a click)  for all things weird and wonderful.

PLEASE COMMENT. Leave YOUR LINK too! A good place to see and be seen....

Thank you all very much. And one last thing...feel free to join our pixilated discourse at http://Twitter.com/wilkravitz/
STOP! STOP! STOP! This just in--------- Want the link to a new, LEGAL, FREE, UNLIMITED, MUSIC SITE? An improved, updated, more facile 'Son of Napster'? Sure you do. Vampire cognoscenti are aurally oriented too. So here it is --- http://www.spotify.com/  ...... Also, we found the REAL BRIDGIT (spelled right?) JONES' DIARY...except she's happily married , but still a native London, urban neurotic in the most delightful, wittiest way... click on http://generationwhynot-stupidgirl.blogspot.com/ and tune into her humorous take on 21st century life................................   Is that it?...............Uh, that's it.

TWO JINNS AND A JACK PLAY DEATH GAMES (but not spontaneous human combustion) UP IN THE HEIGHTS FROM WENCE COMETH OUR HELP

The evil jinns played their tricks. It was so easy. Burlesque the  form of a human, wander the cafes and marketplaces, strike up a conversation with traveling students or anyone else short on coin and that's it. Offer a meal. Hint at the possibility of a clean pallet. Smile. Look sincere. Finger the appropriate religious talismen . And keep from laughing. Most of all, keep from laughing.

Two jinns had a  good one, a young man, a student from some big university like Yale, or McGill. What an attractive, prime catch he was. Well, someone won't be back for the fraternity Halloween party. A semester overseas? How tempting. How beguiling...How fatal. He had a backpack, stuffed with one hundred percent cotton clothes, some toiletries and maybe a few slightly worse for wear photographs.

The first jinn, the sly one, insisted on carrying the burden. The second jinn, smiled, leading the way through the dense evening crowds and  thick, humid air to a charming old villa in the hills. Come...Come....Not far at all... It will be cooler there.....We'll have dates and wine...You can tell us of your life in North America.

So he went. This was Jerusalem after all. And they seemed to have so much in common. What could happen? One of them said he had cousins in Los Angeles. The other mentioned a father in the clergy. And a respite in such commodious quarters certainly outweighed another night in the hostel. 

The three new friends snaked through  old stone passageways, exiting the ancient quarter and ascending the heights. Ah, taste the breeze, fragrant with the scent of hibiscus and rosemary. Ottoman manor houses, set amidst carefully tended 'dry' gardens lined the footpath.

That's it. Right there. The one on the left. Did the first jinn unlatch the gate, or did it just swing open? Oh, don't be that way. Such a misanthrope you are! The curly haired youth put such thoughts aside and entered. It is said that a bey or pasha once held court here. Cool, handmade tiles under foot. Fine plastered walls, carefully decorated by the most accomplished, long dead artisans. The furnishings, an eclectic melange of dark, Mediterranean pieces and 'Mid-Century' chrome and leather modern. Quite striking. Martha Stewart meets Lawrence of Arabia. The North American student approved. Such good taste the hideously tortured owners had. . Shhhhh, I think one of the newly dead spirits heard his thoughts. See? It smiled! Disembodied narrators, such as I, can sense such things. If the curly haired lad's olifactory abilities were a bit more accute, he might have sensed things too, like the stennch of rotting corpses drifting down from an upstairs closet.

Oh, but dismemberment was not to be his fate. The jinns had other games to play. The first one favored drowning him in a rather large, blue willow, Chinese rice jar. Pure, virgin olive oil would suffice. Slip on the lid. Seal it shut with wax and there you have it! The perfect ornament for an inglenook or landing. And so heavy too. Not prone to tipping, that one is.

The second jinn had a preference for maggots. Why not? They were close at hand. Throw the mortal baggage into one of the subterranean stone lined vaults (after carefully paralizing him with the appropriate incantation). Slap in a few handfuls of the plump, pus colored wormies. Go on. Just scrap them up off the dead ones upstairs. More than enough for everybody. True...good, honest maggots have principles. Most would turn up their noses (or whatever they were) at the thought of a living meal. But their minds were small and very easy to bewitch. The slightest bit of prestadigitation would loosen their mandibles.

Look at him sip his wine. See how he relishes the sugary dates. Catch his eyes, as they take in all the wealth. Oh, how his parents will cry. You know how that goes. Television appearances. Pleas to the culprits. Rewards. Crying siblings. Grim-jawed fathers. Such a circus... What a show.....But too late...too late....for their particular 'Elvis' will already have left the building.

Yet who can tell how such charades will play out? For Sarah walks by.......and ... shhh... she can smell it all...

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Should our tale entice you, remember to visit us at @wilkravitz on Twitter...and please be sure to pass on the magic link. Send http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/ / flying off through the ether to your nearest and dearest..... Untill the next time, oh best beloveds...... Oh, yes. One more thing. Papa reads a lot and he's discovered some other blogs worthy of your attention ---
1) http://mondovampire.blogspot.com/
2) http://biting-edge.blogspot.com/
3) http://vampirewire.blogspot.com/

MORE TO COME.......READ......ABSORB.....LEARN

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.