THEY CAME IN THE HUNDREDS.. The Vampire Revels 1/24/13

We traveled together, Tomas, Sarah, Baylah, Annie, Edith and I. Four vampires and two mortals. The others, the lesser night-folk backed out, intimidated by the arcane splendor of it all. They stayed home with the elferinos. I know not what Blackie and Minnie will do. We don't control them. They've always been independent. 

Some friend or relation of the still missing Grigori Usipov put a plane at our disposal, a sleek, tailored, high gloss jet. We embarked at Atlantic City. Atlantic City International Airport,I mean, Philadelphia's second major aerodrome. Actually, not to far from where The Hindenburg came down.  The Muscovite oligarch knew we, or most of us, were vampires and the plane was fitted out accordingly with opaque windows, sealed sleeping quarters and the like. Feeding occurred prior to take off, so that won't pose any problems. Doctor Franklin arranged for the culling of four deserving criminals, via his connections on the police force. Not the usual way these things are done. Not through 'the visions' and all, but time prevented that.

Now Marianne and Albion, the two most worldly elferinos, may cross over later. Yet that is not at all definite. The waif-like, juvenile night-folk are extremely fickle. They dance. They play. They cavort with cherubs and hob-nob with assorted sundry ghosties. She's French, or started out that way, you know. He is too. Different cultures... different norms.

You should have seen Tomas assembling his raiment. Fine, black, bootkins... three pair..... Handmade demin pants, dark as winter midnight... more than enough.... Deluxe, cotton, white, bespoke shirts... by the armful.  Hose, doublet and jerkin, for the Grand Procession. The medieval look, you know, complete with codpiece.  Yes, he thinks it a conceit, but he does go with the flow.  Sarah, originally more conservative, assembled niceties of her own. gleaned from private, midnight showings in the best Rittenhouse Square district boutiques. Baylah, our Beyonce look-alike, always had the best. I'll tell you about the others later.

Some vampires are traveling the traditional way, in union with the whales. They've done so since ... forever. Wait on a moonlit beach. Listen for the song. Shed all clothing. Walk through the surf. Swim toward the depths and meet the leviathan host. The vampire makes contact... a chaste, small bite, locking  on to the grand cetacean like a lamprey to a fish. Then an inky, gel-like substance seals them to the rubbery hide, blocking out the light. And away they go, tearing through the sea in the age-old symbiotic embrace. Tomas has done so. Sarah too, young as she is. But time was different (mortals in the mix, you know) so they made other plans.

And in his hidden 'castle', far away in the English Northlands, 'King' Rafe feels them approach. Not just our group, but each and every one. The air around him quickens. He slowly smiles, as he drifts through the heights, up amongst the huge, oaken beams of the old and vast Great Hall.

Then he mumbles things. Songs, or chants, I cannot tell. Edith, our mortal 'seer,' plants the visions in my mind with her powers. But they must be spells, for ever so slowly 'things' begin to condense out of the gloom. Tapestries grace the walls. And so many chairs, more like tall, straight thrones line the perimeter. The 'king' prepares for guests.

Vampire culture is so special...so rich...so rare... so enticing, even for a mortal guest, like me...

wilkravitz says good night, from his berth in a sleek, fast jet, high above the silvery waves of the cold Atlantic Sea...

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we'd very much appreciate it if you'd be willing to tweet the following--- I nominate @wilkravitz for a #blogger SHORTY AWARD based on his magical stories and narratives..... thank you and good night...  

A Venue for The Vampire Revels 1/22/13

England is a green land, set in the cool, North Sea, yet warmed by the last kiss of The Gulf Stream. Some say the warmth turns toward France, but night-folk necromancers employ their razor sharp skills to draw it on toward Albion's shores.  And their kind have been in residence since the ice sheets disappeared. At first it was a refuge, clean and pure.  Caribou grazed here. Hunters came after. And then the night grew bright, quickened by those-who-see, even in the dark.

They slept in barrows, long, earthen tombs, snug beneath the grass. Some called them Oberon. Indeed, Oberahni grew to be the name of their tribe. The first night-lord was Rafe.  And he is still among us. Ancients knew him as 'Sandman.' A bringer of dreams. Perhaps you've seen him, tall and slim, white as the moon, with hair like spider silk? For he is an albino..... the 'ghost' who lusts for blood.

And he haunts a noble house, surrounded by hills, up toward the land of the fabled Picts. Night-songs (spells) sung by manic witches serve to keep the curious away. Vast stone halls, warmed by mammoth hearths, echo in the dark, for none but Rafe abides there. Is he lonely? At times. But he goes out to 'dine.' This one knows no vows. This one has no creed. He resembles the 'nobles' (moral vampires) but he is not one of them. Rafe hungers and he eats..... dowagers and doormen..... ballerinas and boors.

Oh, he is not cruel, not purposely.  A torturer? No, at least not in any premeditated manner. Though some might hold another view. 

Minions, conjured up from ashes and moonbeams, make ready for 'the dance.' They rub iron filings into the flagstones in preparation for the 'Grand Promenade.' You may have heard Tomas refer to it as 'The Stampanada.' Flinty heels strike orange sparks from off the iron floor. Step-step-step-STOMP. Step-STOMP-step-STOMP... Quite hypnotic and stately in its own cold, regal way. And they dine on plane-loads of plump, sleek mortals, flown in by soulless crime lords from the cities to the east. At least those who are not 'nobles.'

Protected mortals serve other functions. They are magicians, or waiters, circulating through the crowd with icy draughts of vodka, or tiny aroma candles. Some are jugglers, others subjects for real magic... donkey-boys, or feather girls. Sadly, a few die in these displays. But what can I tell you? It's only a hobby.

And our Philadelphia night-folk draw near, most like wide-eyed farmers at the fair.

Oh, the sights you will see. Come back. Bring your friends. Expect to be tickled and amazed.

Could be you hold a little magic too?

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if you're willing to help, please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD by tweeting this~~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a #BLOGGER SHORTY AWARD based on his narratives and stories........Thank you very much.

Shhh, THE GRAND PROCESSION STARTS TOMORROW NIGHT... PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR THE VAMPIRE REVELS!

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: AN UPDATE ON VAMPIRE SOCIETY~~:  THE VAMPIRE REVELS! a convocation of miraculous beings versed in necromancy of a most astonishing sort.... experience this teaser from a month ago, meant to sustain the midnight minions during BINGO BOY'S illustrious run (a good read for the 'somewhat' less magical romantics among you)... But now the time has come. The GREAT CLOCK, high atop the ancient tower of Philadelphia's City Hall strikes twelve... and the resonant tones reverberate through the icy bones of the winter-sick municipality........... We may reveal a little more tonight, or in the wee hours actually.....But tomorrow night, THE GRAND PROCESSION begins.

Bienvenido al nuesto mundo, chicas y chicos. Bienvenido al MUNDO VAMPIRISMO!!

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65TH BINGO BOY episode (like a film treatment) 1/21/13

BINGO BOY - post 65

So the new house at the shore was all filled up that night. Marge and Jimmy in their room. Ricky and Little Chrissie in theirs. And Marty and Big Chrissie in the den.  They put the two babies together in the big one's room. He babbled to the newborn for a while. Think the little one liked it. Probably never dawned on him that babies can vocalize like that. Must a learned something, right?

Everybody got along. Jimmy was contrite. Not that he was gonna give any of the money back right away, but he was contrite. Marty apologized like fifteen thousand times for tryin' to have Jimmy killed. But seein' as the would-be killer (Ricky) and the almost victim were now practically in-laws or something, I don't think all that crap mattered any more.

The house was all warm and cozy. You know, shore houses can be real quiet. They all got them double pane windows. You don't hear nothin'. Puppy slept by the babies. You know they got a puppy? Ain't one a the 'ghost' narrators told you that already? Curls up on the rug under the crib. Little one's in his porta-crib. Every once in a while the puppy pads over to see it he's all right too. 

I can hear Marty snorin'. I can hear Ricky snorin'. Jimmy snores. Girls snore too. Marge makes these little wee-wee-wee-wee-wee noises like The Three Stooges. Ricky snores like a sick, giant whale, or something. I could never share a room with him. It's a wonder he don't have sleep apnea. 

Jimmy's gonna buy a nice little bar and grill on Atlantic Avenue. Little place. Real snug. Gets all the local trade. Good steaks. Good burgers. Big sandwiches. Great drinks. Got these old, knotty pine walls and little, black vinyl booths. Seats maybe fifty people tops, not counting the bar, but a gold mine... a real gold mine. I can't tell you the name, 'cause it ain't a done deal yet. But if you want a get an idea, Google Robert's Place, which is also in Margate, New Jersey, 'cause they're really very much alike.

Marty's gonna take Jimmy up on that hot dog cart offer. Gonna talk to a guy 'bout settin' 'em up outside PARX CASINO in Bucks County. That could be a little gold mine too, even if he does give the house a cut. Probably see a lot a the old ladies from the bingo hall. You know, people gotta get their gamblin' fix..... Everybody likes a little jolt.

Now this story could a been a whole lot different. Ricky might a pulled the trigger, or slapped on another piece a duct tape. Jimmy would a kicked the bucket. Bingo hall might a stayed open. And Little Chrissie's grandma, Marge, might never a found love with a 'prisoner' down the basement. In case you come late to this, that's where they stashed him, Jimmy, I mean, when they didn't have guts enough to kill him.

But you know somethin'? Guts had nothing to do with it. We did. We did it all. It was us, the 'ghost' narrators. Some people call us 'guardian angels,'..... but me, I'm not that pretentious....

So you're gonna have to excuse me now. I wanna pass through the wall and drift 'round the town for a while. Winter nights are special 'round here... all chill and still and quiet. You can even hear the traffic lights click 'stop' and 'go.' You can even hear the surf.

And nobody heard me leave except the dog....

THE END... Bingo Boy.... a film treatment that reads like a novel. First installment  on either the 2nd or 3rd of November. Sixty five episodes...and now it's done. Thank you. 
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if you're willing to help, please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD. Just tweet this ~~~~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD as #BLOGGER for his stories and tales.
Nighty-Night

64TH BINGO BOY episode See what a SAMPLE MOVIE TREATMENT reads like 1/20/13

BINGO BOY - post 64

Big Chrissie sighed. She was tired. It's not easy taking care of a little baby. Her grandfather don't help. He call's it her 'Jew baby.' Tries to be slightly civilized when Marty comes by. And he does come by. Don't tell Muscles about it. Don't tell nobody. But one time he brought her this heavy gold chain he found when they cleaned out the house. Eighteen carat too. She sold it. He told her to. Went to some guy up by Five Points in the Northeast. You know the one. He advertises all over. Seems legit. A lot a people use him. Gave her fourteen hundred dollars for it too. That, plus the money Jimmy gave her helped for a while. Guess now she needs more. 

Little Chrissie says - How'd you find us?..... Not like she's angry. She's not surprised it happened. She just wants a know. Big Chrissie tells her about Too-Many-Cookies seein' the license plate number on the car Jimmy sent and how they traced 'em through that..... Little Chrissie just nods. You can't hide from nobody these days. Then she says - Get something..... The other Chrissie goes - Like what? What do they have in here, Jewish food?..... Little Chrissie goes- You gotta stop thinkin' like that. They got food, regular food. Get an omelet. Get home fries. Get a muffin, an English Muffin. That OK with you?..... Big Chrissie says that it is, so they order it. While they wait she says - Marty's over at the house now. Wow, what a place. Did I tell you that? They're talkin'. They're just talkin'. Your grandmother ain't there. I don't know where she is. Muscles wanted to come, but Marty says no. You know how Muscles is. He tries to deal himself into everything. Look, they got married couples who stay together after a murder attempt, so why not them? But Jimmy don't trust him. Says he ain't gonna give back no money. Not outright anyway. Says wait til they get something set up here, like a business, or a bar, or I don't know. Jimmy was sayin' a lot a stuff. You know how he goes when he talks real fast.

Then her food came, so they ate. Omelet had lox in it. She liked it. You know, lox ain't bad. Hell, they eat it all over Europe. They guzzle it...worse than here even. Know what it's like? It's like the 'ham' of fish. It's like them real rich, salty, fancy Italian hams, but it's fish. It's salmon. It's good. Oh, God, I miss my physical body. Yeah, they say we can conjure up most a the same feelings over here, but not me. Hamburger tastes like clay. Fried chicken tastes like bleech! They all say I ain't tryin'. Say I gotta work harder. Could be. Who knows? Look, I only been 'dead' seventeen days. Still countin' days. Some a them over here can't hardly remember what days are. But I can. Jeez, I ain't told you my name yet. Some 'ghost narrators' don't like to say. Some do. I like to... Hi, I'm Steve. Pleased to meet you. Fell at my aunt's house. Cracked my head on this pointy, metal finial she got at the bottom of her banister. Man, were they screamin'. Eh, I don't wanna talk about it.

Jimmy says he's gonna start givin' money back soon as he's ready. Did I tell you that? No, wait. I did...... Oh, God....Some people are just meant to be together. Fightin' don't mean nothin'. That's just how they exercise their lungs.

Big Chrissie says they're gonna sleep over at the house tonight. Gonna use the sofa bed in the den. She got a travel bed for her baby. Look how the bigger one likes the little one. He's lookin'. I don't think he knows it's a human. Wants a give it some oatmeal. I like babies. Maybe I'll work with them. Be a 'night guard,' or imaginary friend. I'd like that. .... (laughs) Yo, Mom, got an invisible forty six year old buddy named Steve. Deal wit' it.

The two moms are packin' everything up now. Lots a stuff when you got a kid..... But it's worth it. 

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63RD BINGO BOY episode 1/19/13

Bingo Boy - 63

Marty read it again. They didn't even have milk for the cornflakes. He ate 'em right out of the box. Muscles snored away on the reclining chair in the family room. You know that furniture jobber guy didn't take everything. Some a the stuff is crap. That he left...... Marty says - A hot dog cart. He wants to buy me a hot dog cart. Lousy son-of-a-bitch should drop dead and croak. What's he mean by a hot dog cart? Says I should think about it.(sighs) I could a had two million dollars, at least. Maybe more. I - I - I lost track. Kept stuffin' it in those God damned boxes and saltin' it away. This is my worst nightmare.... Muscles goes - Not your wife leavin' you?.... Marty says - No..... Muscles goes - Not her takin' the kids?.... Marty doesn't answer. He just sits there. Muscles farts. You can hear a fart real good on a fake leather reclining chair. The vinyl acts like a membrane. It magnifies it, like a microphone, like an ear drum..... Muscles mumbles - Excuse me.... But Marty don't pay him no mind. Still, you can tell he's thinkin' about something. Then he goes - Hey, how much you think one a them chrome hot dog carts go for?..... But Muscles is already sleepin' again, so he gets out the telephone book and makes a few calls...

Meanwhile, at the shore, it's cold. It's cold, but it's sunny. The sky looks so blue, like out of a Rogers and Hammerstein musical. All the old ladies are out walkin' their yappy dogs. Breakfast joints got people. Breakfast joins always got people.  Think when you buy a house at the shore, you forget how to cook eggs. Forget how to toast bagels too. Little Chrissie got the Baby in his stroller. He likes gettin' air. She wheels him down to the beach. Not on the beach, just right up to the bulkhead where you can see it. Water looks like a lake, all blue and shiny. Sea Gulls glide 'round like special effects. You couldn't computer generate a nicer scene than this..... Little Chrissie leans forward and says - You want some nice hot oatmeal?...... Baby goes - Yeah, yeah, yeah..... She makes sure he's all tucked in. Makes sure the blanket's coverin' him up real good. Then she wheels him over to The Downbeach Deli for some a that special, homemade, maple syrup and brown sugar kind they got. Wants a get it with raisins, but the waitress says not to with a baby, 'cause raisins might make 'em choke. Everybody makes a fuss over him. They go - Boy! Get a load a that curly, blond hair!..... Little Chrissie goes - Thank you. Baby just smiles and makes 'bashful' eyes.

She's waitin' for somebody. Not Ricky. Ricky went to talk to the real estate people. That's where he's gonna work. Everything's startin' to fall into place. Little Chrissie looks at her watch. Nine thirty. Then another young mommy with a newborn baby comes in. At first she stands in the entrance lookin' around. You know it takes a little while for somebody's eyes to adjust after comin' in from all that sun. But Little Chrissie waves her over. The other one nods, walks in and sits down. The waitress gives 'em another 'set-up.' She pours some coffee.  They just look at it.  The second mommy, Big Chrissie looks tired. She looks nervous. 

At first they're both quiet. Newborn baby's sleeping. Older Baby's eatin'. Little Chrissie feeds him, but he wants a grab the spoon.

Then, all of a sudden, the heavy-set one starts to talk...

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ALL THESE THINGS ARE TRUE

That thread known to you as BINGO BOY must abide for another night. Other voices seep through the ether now and their resonance is upon us. The night folk of 'The Vampire Wonderland' hunger for the stage.  The magic wants to come back. Crack open the door. Listen to the murmurs. For all these things are true...

First instantaneous truth~ As we sit here, cocooned in our own individual states of existence, a soul slides into the sea. A man falls over the edge, gasping incredulously, as his feet furiously try to find purchase, before plunging into the dark, cold, water. Night paints the firmament. And feathery clouds tickle the stars, as the ship drops over the edge. 

The solitary heartbeat falters, shocked by a death-like chill as the man goes ever deeper. After a time it will be over. Then he will be warm, or at least unaware of the cold. But the end comes slow down here. Ice preserves things. Bits of flesh take longer to die. And he lingers, suspended between the quick and the dead.

Ten heartbeats later, he is found. An intelligence rises up from the depths, piercing the blackness. It reaches out to him. Soft, graceful arms embrace his body, kissing it with many ardent mouths. His companion is large, long as a nightmare. Supple undulations draw him ever toward its face, a lethal countenance   more horrible than Medusa...

Monsters are real. We are food. Some people feign indifference. Others disbelief. But Kimodo Dragons devour sleeping babies. Cave bears crush hikers and microbes eat flesh. And the subject of this truth progresses toward the maw of a giant squid. He can't break free. There is no escape. No rescue will come. The razor sharp beak opens wide, freeing a tongue-like radula, eager to scrape him raw. 

The feet go in first. Then the legs, drawn in by the tongue that's not a tongue. He does not see it, but he feels it. Death, or the denial of it, can be so cruel. His back is abraded down to the bone, a live spare rib special for hungry calimari. And he wants to draw in water. He wants to drown. He wants to die. The pain is so great. The pressure so real. Yet the steel-like grip says 'no.' 

And the skin, just below his clavicle, feels the beak come down and  cut him through. Life, or something like it, lingers in his brain until the blood runs out to join the salty, womb-drink of the sea. But before that can happen, the beak comes down again to crush his skull...

The monster is satisfied, dropping down to rest in the abyss...

You think this scene has never, ever happened? Please.... don't be naive.....

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