The Scientifically Enhanced, Doctor Benjamin Franklin Takes The Helm

I have not communicated with you for a while. Long time friends of this world will know me. I did not die back in the early days of the American republic, but rather found ways to further my survival, via such means as the crystaline perfection of my Grand Armonica (google Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz  Armonica Doctor Franklin and you shall find it)  and other efficacious means. 


I am a searcher and a scientist. I am Doctor Benjamin Franklin, speaking to you from my compound deep beneath the surface of The Philadelphia Navy Yard. Google The Anti-Enchantment Bureau. The Vampire Wonderland has become quite a place. A myriad of sites refer to our world. The life eaters know me. We study each other. They have been my 'guests' and I have sojourned with them. But now we go our separate ways. Will it always be like that? No, that's just how it is right now. 


But I wanted to clarify some things about the juvenile vampirina known as Annie. She is not the same as full grown life-eaters. Nor is she but another elferina-vampirina. Her situation is unique and no one, 'human' or vampire, knows why.


It appears that she has inherited certain traits from her 'father,' the incredibly ancient vampire known as Papa. Some say he resembles a thirty two or thirty three year old version of Richard Gere. Others see a likeness to the young Alec Baldwin, from his Beetlejuice days. But that is not important. Papa has a talent we call Sympathetic Transference. He can 'will' quantities of matter, such as dust motes or screaming humans, from their natural place in our world and instantaneously send them somewhere else, such as the outer arrondisements of Paris, or the titanic, soul crushing, roiling surface of the sun. Needless to say, those on the solar tour are supplied with an invisible protective bubble. And veterans of such  voyages are not the same when they get back...... if they get back.


Imagine hovering above planet sized waves breaking over the immensity of the stellar plain, or plunging down into mysterious, burnt out, solar voids.....'Sun Spots' I think they call them. Nightmares beyond nightmares. Would you survive? Would you still be sane?


Annie can accomplish such things. The monkish enemy knows. He has seen places far beyond the twisted borders of Hell. Glued to the carapace of  a galleon sized cockroach. Crushed by an asteroid the size of Japan. Fricasseed by witches (real ones) in a giant cyclops skull.


And now he lies quivering upon the cold, bare concrete floor of his domicile.... a deserted warehouse, surrounded by dogs. Oh, he will survive..... but he will be changed.


She said she would not kill him, but what she did was worse...... For now he has seen power...... and he wants it...


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MORE ON 'VAMPIRINA' ANNIE and HER WEE HOUR CONFRONTATION with the 'ENEMY' UNDERGROUND...and No, ANDERSON COOPER ain't in this one..

Please excuse any errors. Zebulon is not too adept at this manner of verbal chicanery anyway. And besides, what I'm transcribing is happening so fast, even a disembodied spirit has trouble comprehending it all.


We are back in the gray, dingy, tiled confines of an underground concourse passageway. It's long...very long. It's narrow. It's dim....like a lone, little roadway to Hell.


The monk-not-quite-a-monk stands his ground. The dogs tremble. The beta dog pees. Annie sees. She smells it and she laughs. She yells - Bad doggie! Bad doggie!.... and her words echo metallically through the tube.


We hear a scream from somewhere down another passage. But that bit of gory mayhem belongs to another's nightmare and is not part of our own. An old goat sings 'I'm Popeye the Sailor Man,' then laughs until he cries.


Annie goes 'pssst!' and says - Weird around here, ain't it? Better than the television........ Then she scrambles along the roof of the tunnel like a spider.......like a real fast, crazy spider.


The monkish enemy mumbles prayers, as the juvenile monster races toward him. But it's too late. She's right there, leering down at him from above. The dogs cower at his feet. One makes a half-assed attempt at a growl. Annie instantly replies with a seering, cat-like hiss. The dogs turn and tear off on a frenzied run down the passageway......


And then, there were two. She levitates off the ceiling, spins 'round and slowly studies him....... Hey, mister - she says.... you got like a bald spot..... She reaches down to touch it. His hand shoots out to fend her away. But she grabs it by the wrist, pulls it to her mouth... and quickly bites off  the thumb, right up to the first knuckle...... He writhes in pain. His eyes flutter. She savors it for a few heartbeats, then spits it square in his face, almost knocking out an eye. He screams. She giggles. She mimics him, as the blood drips down her chin.


He whispers - Don't kill me. Don't kill me.........She floats down a bit, staring nose to nose. He cringes and turns away, as the little vampirina whispers - I won't... Not tonight.


Then the lights (dim as they are) begin to wink out at either end of the passageway, til only one, sputtering right over his head, remains. He raises his eyes in supplication. It sputters some more. Annie goes - Uh oh......  The bulb crackles, pops and burns out..... Darkness reigns. Annie giggles, as the 'enemy' begins to scream.....


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The 'PLAYING VAMPIRE POKER IN ATLANTIC CITY' post originally appeared about a year ago, but it's a good one

And after you read that (scroll down. it's right below all this stuff) go take a look at http://caballoblue.com . Sorry, I can't make the link 'clickable,' but go anyway and read the blog. It's worth it. Then check out the stuff at http://ogtomes.blogspot.com and http://jthomasross.com and http://AHardingBooks.com and http://www.tearsofcrimson.com . Little 'Bastid' Annie will be back tomorrow night...... Just suffering from a touch of vampire ennui.... You know how it is.....Oh! And if you find, or know of a deserving site, please leave a COMMENT . Also, whatever happened to DARK SHADOWS ? I'd love to hear what you think about that one. And is TRUE BLOOD basically just a whole lot a good looking, soft porn, but only everybody has to have a  real sloppy, bloody chin?


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ANNIE CONFRONTS A HELLISH ENEMY DEEP WITHIN THE CONCOURSE AFTER DARK

There's a maze-like warren of shops beneath the surface of Center City Philadelphia. I believe Kevin Bacon's father helped create it. The venerable Sir Edmund was our City Planner for many years. It facilitates lunch hour jaunts on rainy days, or sweltering summer broilers. A plethora of jumped up fast food vendors hawks savory, but greasy, wares to  ambitious young strivers and their not quite so hopeful stenographers (is that term still in vogue?). Umbrella and breath mint kiosks do very well too, I am told.


But the five thirty exodus brings mystery to this labyrinth. Metal gratings rattle down to bite into the floor. Lights blink out. The people leave and shadows come to play. Though all is not quiet. And eyes still glitter deep within the gloom. Some belong to rodents and some to vermin far more sinister than that.


Annie knows these midnight passageways. The homeless know them too. Not the breed found down below forgotten subway tunnels. This tribe is far more confrontational. And shattered glass is the weapon of choice. An army of janitorial super heroes swarms in before dawn to wash away the blood. All manner of flotsam and jetsam collide in this place. The enemy knows it too. It's where he hones his skill. It's where the dogs are trained. It's Annie's favorite playground. 


Imagine you're a drunken, street pirate stumbling down a long,narrow, white tiled 'worm hole'. Tiny, caged bulbs shed a weak gray wash over the sour surroundings. Not every passage has shops. Some are merely ant trails, meant to facilitate the comings and goings of entry level ants. And they echo. Oh, how they echo. Each footfall resonates with a hoof-like beat, as fear drips down through the cracks.


Sometimes Annie flies here. She floats along with a demon's grace, perhaps three or four feet above the floor. Her body tilts forward. Her eyes stare out and she grins..... how she grins....... A figurehead straight from hell. Many an unwary soul fall victim to that grin. They stop. They freeze. They turn. They run. But she gets them. She gets them every time. And how odd that her little body can drain an adult of so much blood. But what did you expect? This is The Vampire Wonderland. 


Though in this instance you are not a drunken street pirate. This time you're the enemy. And this time you have dogs.


He sees her, as she rounds the corner, a tiny figure, hovering unnaturally perhaps three hundred feet up ahead. Two of the beasts (large mastiffs) begin to growl, but he gestures and they stop. Then the enemy bows. He smiles. But the six or seven year old night thing never stops. She draws closer and closer and closer...... until the hounds begin to cry.....


Ah.... Philadelphia after dark..... what stories the cobbles tell.....


Come join us next time and listen......


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