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Thursday, March 7, 2013
The Overnight Bestseller: The Upcoming Biography of J.D. Salinger
For all who've read and love THE CATCHER IN THE RYE... The Overnight Bestseller: The Upcoming Biography of J.D. Salinger: T he New York Times Art Beat blog reports that a biography of the reclusive J . D. Salinger, who died in 2010, will be published by Simon... Now you can learn the truth ..... Definitive SALINGER BIOGRAPHY debuts... (not all what you think)...
RECOLLECTIONS OF FLESH EATERS... The Book Of Ghouls .. 3/6/13
I don't speak much. If you were here for last night's episode, you know how we communicate. We think, therefore we are. Sometimes we mouth the words for those less attuned. Let them lip read, if they can. Am I the one you call Johnny Jump Up? No. He is an unusual specimen of 'ghouliana.' His ability is quite showy, what with the leaping and all. Coupled with the anorexia, that makes for one major graphic novel star. Let me tell you that.
Most of us look fairly normal.... the fat lady on the bus.... the old man buying a newspaper.... a little boy flying one of those snap together, balsa wood gliders they still sell in dollar stores. The magic only happens at meal time. That's when we hop to it. And ghouls don't bother with a lot of drama and rules, like vampires. I hate those phony, neurotic bastards. Look how they strike poses. Your Tomas... the one you have in Philadelphia and his 'black leather bootkins'..... Can you imagine such a phrase? What are they? Really, what are they, but weak, insipid ghouls.
We eat who we will and we hunt all the time. You're all expendable. Life goes on..... if we let it.
But, you want to know something? I don't know how this happened. I don't even remember 'first flesh.' Some do (not many). I don't. Your Johnny Jump Up claims it happened when he was buried alive. He says 'something' got in with him and 'grabbed' him. With me, it was gradual (I think). A little bit of this. A little bit of that... an ear..a thumb.. an ass.. a rat.
But one night it hits you. And you realize death has taken a holiday... at least where you're concerned. Time to buy new suits, or peel them off your victims, 'cause the ones you got are thirty years old.
Ghouls like to dine by moonlight, thus the feasting on the heights.... mountains in the country.... rooftops in the city. The pigeons get quite a show.
I love the way you taste. 'Long Pig.' That's what they call it. Rich and sweet and salty. Boy oh boy. You don't want to see me when I'm hungry. But you probably won't see me, not at first anyway. That's how quick it happens.
Wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. But you'll be in shock by then.
People disappear all the time. Sometimes we make love before they die.
And guess who's coming for dinner?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. want more? click DINNER ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome. 700,000 words up now.
Most of us look fairly normal.... the fat lady on the bus.... the old man buying a newspaper.... a little boy flying one of those snap together, balsa wood gliders they still sell in dollar stores. The magic only happens at meal time. That's when we hop to it. And ghouls don't bother with a lot of drama and rules, like vampires. I hate those phony, neurotic bastards. Look how they strike poses. Your Tomas... the one you have in Philadelphia and his 'black leather bootkins'..... Can you imagine such a phrase? What are they? Really, what are they, but weak, insipid ghouls.
We eat who we will and we hunt all the time. You're all expendable. Life goes on..... if we let it.
But, you want to know something? I don't know how this happened. I don't even remember 'first flesh.' Some do (not many). I don't. Your Johnny Jump Up claims it happened when he was buried alive. He says 'something' got in with him and 'grabbed' him. With me, it was gradual (I think). A little bit of this. A little bit of that... an ear..a thumb.. an ass.. a rat.
But one night it hits you. And you realize death has taken a holiday... at least where you're concerned. Time to buy new suits, or peel them off your victims, 'cause the ones you got are thirty years old.
Ghouls like to dine by moonlight, thus the feasting on the heights.... mountains in the country.... rooftops in the city. The pigeons get quite a show.
I love the way you taste. 'Long Pig.' That's what they call it. Rich and sweet and salty. Boy oh boy. You don't want to see me when I'm hungry. But you probably won't see me, not at first anyway. That's how quick it happens.
Wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am. But you'll be in shock by then.
People disappear all the time. Sometimes we make love before they die.
And guess who's coming for dinner?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. want more? click DINNER ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome. 700,000 words up now.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
THE BOOK OF GHOULS ..... 3/5/13
He came to me. Sometimes I walk the streets late at night too. Edith gives me a hoo-doo. You know. Doesn't make me invisible, just not noticeable. Lasts for about five hours. And I saw him in a tree right inside the Eighteenth Street border of Rittenhouse Square, all stretched out on a thick, lower bough like a panther. Looked like he'd already eaten.... all sleek and warm and satisfied. He tipped his hat and gestured toward a bench. I, like a dope, pointed to my sternum and said, 'me?' Johnny Jump Up nodded and smiled. Well, it was sort of a smile.
I took a seat. He silently vaulted down beside me. Now ghouls have a certain smell, much different than vampires. Blood drinkers really don't have an aroma. I think the magic, their kind of magic, does it. But flesh eaters, although they do possess an elusive necromancy of their own, retain a gory tang. Regular mortals might not notice. But after all the things I've been through with them (the vampires, I mean) I am hardly that.
And Johnny began to communicate. He moved his lips, mouthing words, that I did not so much as hear, but sense. He asked my name. I told him. He asked how I served them. I told about the blog. He smiled. His eyes looked merry. He 'said' - Blog for me??? .... I saw the pointy teeth and nodded. What else could I do? But he knew that. This creature could shred me in an instant. Ever see an ant kill a victim? Ever see a spider kill a fly. A burst of quick, staccato bites. A manic frenzy. Thrashing legs. A ruptured carapace and death.... or hopefully death. Sometimes it takes a little longer.
The ghoul smelled me. He leaned forward and sniffed my cheek...my hair... the front of my left shoulder (I think he was going for my arm pit.). I froze. Then he chuckled ( like a deep, rumbling, purr) and playfully poked my stomach.
That's how I met him. That's how I met Johnny Jump Up. And I wish I never did.....
Even the disembodied spirits who come around to narrate from time to time, want no part of this. I saw the rats snuggling 'round his feet. Not a lot of them, but two. He called them Rozenkrantz & Gilderstern. I think that's what he said. And he dangled his long, thin arms, letting them nibble dried blood from his claw-like nails..... the remnants of a nurse snatched from the cobbles, right by the door to Doc Watson's Pub. No one knows she's gone yet. Who searches the rooftops for gore? And what could I tell the cops?
A loud gang of college kids crossed over from a club near Locust Street. You know how much noise they can make... drunk and all.... But Johnny Jump Up was gone and I never saw him leave.
Lucky for me, Edith's hoo-doo still worked, 'cause kids can be so nasty......
Then I got up, walked through the stage set darkness and went back to the town house with the vampires where it was safe...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more 'creatures' click MORE CREATURES .... and your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.... we have more than 700,000 words up, so come on...... take a look <0><0>
I took a seat. He silently vaulted down beside me. Now ghouls have a certain smell, much different than vampires. Blood drinkers really don't have an aroma. I think the magic, their kind of magic, does it. But flesh eaters, although they do possess an elusive necromancy of their own, retain a gory tang. Regular mortals might not notice. But after all the things I've been through with them (the vampires, I mean) I am hardly that.
And Johnny began to communicate. He moved his lips, mouthing words, that I did not so much as hear, but sense. He asked my name. I told him. He asked how I served them. I told about the blog. He smiled. His eyes looked merry. He 'said' - Blog for me??? .... I saw the pointy teeth and nodded. What else could I do? But he knew that. This creature could shred me in an instant. Ever see an ant kill a victim? Ever see a spider kill a fly. A burst of quick, staccato bites. A manic frenzy. Thrashing legs. A ruptured carapace and death.... or hopefully death. Sometimes it takes a little longer.
The ghoul smelled me. He leaned forward and sniffed my cheek...my hair... the front of my left shoulder (I think he was going for my arm pit.). I froze. Then he chuckled ( like a deep, rumbling, purr) and playfully poked my stomach.
That's how I met him. That's how I met Johnny Jump Up. And I wish I never did.....
Even the disembodied spirits who come around to narrate from time to time, want no part of this. I saw the rats snuggling 'round his feet. Not a lot of them, but two. He called them Rozenkrantz & Gilderstern. I think that's what he said. And he dangled his long, thin arms, letting them nibble dried blood from his claw-like nails..... the remnants of a nurse snatched from the cobbles, right by the door to Doc Watson's Pub. No one knows she's gone yet. Who searches the rooftops for gore? And what could I tell the cops?
A loud gang of college kids crossed over from a club near Locust Street. You know how much noise they can make... drunk and all.... But Johnny Jump Up was gone and I never saw him leave.
Lucky for me, Edith's hoo-doo still worked, 'cause kids can be so nasty......
Then I got up, walked through the stage set darkness and went back to the town house with the vampires where it was safe...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more 'creatures' click MORE CREATURES .... and your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.... we have more than 700,000 words up, so come on...... take a look <0><0>
HOW THE GHOUL SURPASSES THE ZOMBIE ..... 3/5/13
It is written that they love to confound travelers. They hunger for the flesh of frightened people, caught far from a safe warm place. I speak of the ghoul, a creature with a blood lust far in excess of the addle-brained zombie and a monstrous clarity equal to, if not beyond most night-folk (known to you as vampires).
One inhabits our own dark places, sliding 'mongst the blackest shadows and coldest dreams. Conrad saw him last night. He saw the eyes. He saw the skin. He smelled the flesh. And even a vampire knew fear.
They call him Johnny Jump Up and have since the seventeenth century. Some say he's come and gone more than once. A missionary julienned by the natives, in 'the death of a thousand cuts,' or a hapless victim of consumption, buried alive in a chill, damp grave. There are those who will take you to a crypt lost among the dim mossy lanes of Laurel Hill Cemetery and swear that it's his. But true ghouls need no permanent address. They squeeze in anywhere.... a dumpster down an alley..... a niche behind a wall.... under the bed of a blind, young man.... in caskets with the dead.
Each has a talent, a special ability for which they are known. Some speak every language, low and soft and warm. Others serve powerful jinn and profit from it. Our own razor-toothed gentleman is a leaper. He can get you on the third floor and the forth floor as well. Some nights he scurries over roof tops, making off with children still wrapped in their bedclothes.`
A painfully thin man, he is, with a tall top hat, such as the gentry wore oh so many years ago. His suit a fine, wool serge.... trim and tight and black. His linen, ghostly white. The ensemble occasionally drips blood. Ghouls do love their food, after all. And in case you don't know it, human flesh tastes like ham.
He hides in doorways, waiting for victims to race passed. Tonight it's a boy on a bicycle, silently zipping down wee hour streets. You know that high pitched hum the spokes make? And the fiend steps out behind him, straightens his neck cloth, stows his hat and leaps forth. No 'X' Games, snow boarder vaults as far. And in twelve heartbeats he has him. A sharp, hard push. The bike skids. The boy falls. Perhaps he grunts. But even before the bike stops sliding, he's hoisted over a bony shoulder and streaking into the sky.
And there, on the rooftops, he takes him. A fast bite to the face... Crunch, the nose is gone.... Forearms thrown up in defense... Rip! Bones stripped bare.... Pants come off (futile kicks mean nothing) and so do the genitals. The heights are slick with blood. And the steam comes up on cue. Whimpering... Sometimes they cry. He digs his claws into the fat, quivering tongue and tears it from it's moorings, scarfing it down like a plump, warm slug. Poor boy. So strong. So shocked. So desperate. And his lidless eyes (well, one anyway) still see, as the cadaverous monster bites into his belly, rips open the muscle and savors the entrails, taking the heart... and the life, last of all.
Then he stands up, licks his lips, shudders and sighs. There is no blue flame to clean things up. He is no vampire. Such magic eludes him. But he has other tricks... A tiny whisper in an unknown tongue... A subtle sign and the rats appear, pouring out from the nooks and crannies to feast on his leavings. Even the bones disappear.
Johnny Jump Up is out there. The vampires know it. And now you do to. A solitary killer melding with the night and hiding like a spider....
Are you curious? Get a friend. Drive around. Go see. After midnight is good, but third hour's best. Pick empty streets and quiet lanes.
Just don't unlock the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more click VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ..... your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
One inhabits our own dark places, sliding 'mongst the blackest shadows and coldest dreams. Conrad saw him last night. He saw the eyes. He saw the skin. He smelled the flesh. And even a vampire knew fear.
They call him Johnny Jump Up and have since the seventeenth century. Some say he's come and gone more than once. A missionary julienned by the natives, in 'the death of a thousand cuts,' or a hapless victim of consumption, buried alive in a chill, damp grave. There are those who will take you to a crypt lost among the dim mossy lanes of Laurel Hill Cemetery and swear that it's his. But true ghouls need no permanent address. They squeeze in anywhere.... a dumpster down an alley..... a niche behind a wall.... under the bed of a blind, young man.... in caskets with the dead.
Each has a talent, a special ability for which they are known. Some speak every language, low and soft and warm. Others serve powerful jinn and profit from it. Our own razor-toothed gentleman is a leaper. He can get you on the third floor and the forth floor as well. Some nights he scurries over roof tops, making off with children still wrapped in their bedclothes.`
A painfully thin man, he is, with a tall top hat, such as the gentry wore oh so many years ago. His suit a fine, wool serge.... trim and tight and black. His linen, ghostly white. The ensemble occasionally drips blood. Ghouls do love their food, after all. And in case you don't know it, human flesh tastes like ham.
He hides in doorways, waiting for victims to race passed. Tonight it's a boy on a bicycle, silently zipping down wee hour streets. You know that high pitched hum the spokes make? And the fiend steps out behind him, straightens his neck cloth, stows his hat and leaps forth. No 'X' Games, snow boarder vaults as far. And in twelve heartbeats he has him. A sharp, hard push. The bike skids. The boy falls. Perhaps he grunts. But even before the bike stops sliding, he's hoisted over a bony shoulder and streaking into the sky.
And there, on the rooftops, he takes him. A fast bite to the face... Crunch, the nose is gone.... Forearms thrown up in defense... Rip! Bones stripped bare.... Pants come off (futile kicks mean nothing) and so do the genitals. The heights are slick with blood. And the steam comes up on cue. Whimpering... Sometimes they cry. He digs his claws into the fat, quivering tongue and tears it from it's moorings, scarfing it down like a plump, warm slug. Poor boy. So strong. So shocked. So desperate. And his lidless eyes (well, one anyway) still see, as the cadaverous monster bites into his belly, rips open the muscle and savors the entrails, taking the heart... and the life, last of all.
Then he stands up, licks his lips, shudders and sighs. There is no blue flame to clean things up. He is no vampire. Such magic eludes him. But he has other tricks... A tiny whisper in an unknown tongue... A subtle sign and the rats appear, pouring out from the nooks and crannies to feast on his leavings. Even the bones disappear.
Johnny Jump Up is out there. The vampires know it. And now you do to. A solitary killer melding with the night and hiding like a spider....
Are you curious? Get a friend. Drive around. Go see. After midnight is good, but third hour's best. Pick empty streets and quiet lanes.
Just don't unlock the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more click VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ..... your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
Monday, March 4, 2013
LEO GOES BERSERK ... back in PHILADELPHIA ,, 3/4/13
Conrad lived alone. A man came to see to things. He paid the bills, cleaned up and wound the clocks. Apparently he was some sort of 'familiar.' Tomas had a lot of them. And there was always money in the little brass box in the desk. The man who wound the clocks did that too.
Annie's 'son' lived a quiet life. He slept in his specially darkened room, read books, watched some TV and wandered the streets. He liked the night. Vampire life agreed with him. Sometimes he'd find a bench, sit down and wait for a companion. Most people out that late were either hospital workers hurrying to sign in, delivery truck drivers servicing accounts, or other night addicts like him.
He often picked a spot south of Walnut Street.... less people...hardly any at all. Those pedestrians out tried to walk as quietly as possible. Few made any sound at all, moving through the dark like breathing shadows. That's what gave them away... the breath... the vapor. Most avoided any eye contact, acting like he wasn't there at all. He didn't want to hurt them. He just wanted to talk.
Leo, his ersatz 'brother' ran away. He disappeared right after the others left for The Revels. Didn't say anything. Didn't take anything. Just left. The man who wound the clocks knew. He contacted Doctor Franklin. The old reprobate was always there, watching and studying, but even he didn't know anything.... and that was very surprising.
Conrad considered going over to his complex under the old Philadelphia Navy Yard (actually the reconstituted Philadelphia Navy Yard, but everybody still called it that), yet he didn't. A few nights people did stop and talk to him. Maybe they were special too? Not night-folks. Not vampires. Just sensitive, I guess. Sometimes if the person was homeless, he'd give them money. One guy got a few thousand dollars. Conrad wanted to give him blood.... just a little.... just a few drops. The guy had T.B. and you know how much doctors charge. But he didn't know how to do it. He didn't know how to go about it. And he didn't want to scare him away. That's why he gave him all the money. Told the guy he should go 'see somebody.' And the guy did. He took his advice. Found an office. Went in. Of course he cleaned himself up first. Bought new clothes... everything from the inside out. Told the Stepford Girls out front he was paying cash. Doc ran a few tests... routine stuff. Everybody gets the same treatment. You know that. Blood tests... X-rays.... a scan.... Couple more consultations. Guy stayed in a hotel. Not a fancy place, but not a flea bag. Like where salesmen might stay. But the money didn't last long. Doc gave him the address of a 'good clinic' and Stepford Girls gave him funny looks when he walked out.
Now he's back on the streets. Knows how bad he is. Actually, I think there's a law. When 'they' know how sick he is, T.B. and all, 'they're' supposed to document everything. They're supposed to follow up. But the doc didn't want to get mixed up with a case like that...and they got ways.
Annie's 'son' went lookin' for him. He was gonna tell him. He was gonna give him the blood. He was gonna make him drink it. But some people are good at not being found. 'T.B.' guy was one of them. I think that takes a little bit of magic too, especially when it's a vampire who's doing the looking.
Conrad does 'taste things,' though. That's what some night-folk call it. They say 'taste things.' But not about T.B. guy... about Leo. Didn't know where he was. Just knew he was out there. And he was killing people all the time. None of that 'once a month. we're still believers' crap for him. Leo had this 'thing,'.... this act. He was a panther...a big, strong, black panther. The city was the jungle and the people were like little antelopes. And he liked it. Didn't say a word. Never made a sound. Just came up, grabbed them from behind and did the deed.
You know how many missing person's cases there are out there? You see them all the time. Xeroxed sign goes up in a super market. People look at it. They go 'tsk tsk tsk.' They talk about it a while... And then it's over. Pick up the soda. Grab the bread and you're out of there. Next time it's a dog missing, or maybe a cat.
Tomas and the rest'd be back soon. Conrad couldn't wait. He saw Johnny Jump Up the other night, standing in a church yard behind one of the tall obelisks. You know those high, skinny, grave stones some folks got? Look like portable Washington Monuments. Ghoul didn't do a thing... didn't even look at him. Just stood there, with his head twisted at a funny angle, watching the air.
Ghouls are funny. Night-folks avoid them. Who knows what they are...part ghost... part zombie...part psycho. Johnny looks like an anorexic undertaker from the eighteen fifties. Tight black suit... bony face... white skin... red lips... greasy hair. If the mouth was open, you'd see the teeth.... little sharp triangles, just like a shark. Too many for a human.
They say he was buried alive. They say 'something' got inside. That's how he got out....
Cops say city heats up in the spring. More robbing. More killing. More everything. And the equinox is still about seventeen nights away.
Look, Conrad is a vampire, but he ain't brave. Besides, he's brand new. You think Johnny Jump Up don't scare him? You're crazy. So he just walked away from the dark, shadowy church yard and left. But he turned 'round every few steps to make sure 'nothing' was there.
Boy does he wish the rest of them were back.
And now he's getting headache-dreams from 'something' called Matilda.
Seems The Pines are getting a little bit 'antsy' too...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. want to know more about our world? click on THIS ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are ALWAYS WELCOME. take as much room as you like. it's all good.
Annie's 'son' lived a quiet life. He slept in his specially darkened room, read books, watched some TV and wandered the streets. He liked the night. Vampire life agreed with him. Sometimes he'd find a bench, sit down and wait for a companion. Most people out that late were either hospital workers hurrying to sign in, delivery truck drivers servicing accounts, or other night addicts like him.
He often picked a spot south of Walnut Street.... less people...hardly any at all. Those pedestrians out tried to walk as quietly as possible. Few made any sound at all, moving through the dark like breathing shadows. That's what gave them away... the breath... the vapor. Most avoided any eye contact, acting like he wasn't there at all. He didn't want to hurt them. He just wanted to talk.
Leo, his ersatz 'brother' ran away. He disappeared right after the others left for The Revels. Didn't say anything. Didn't take anything. Just left. The man who wound the clocks knew. He contacted Doctor Franklin. The old reprobate was always there, watching and studying, but even he didn't know anything.... and that was very surprising.
Conrad considered going over to his complex under the old Philadelphia Navy Yard (actually the reconstituted Philadelphia Navy Yard, but everybody still called it that), yet he didn't. A few nights people did stop and talk to him. Maybe they were special too? Not night-folks. Not vampires. Just sensitive, I guess. Sometimes if the person was homeless, he'd give them money. One guy got a few thousand dollars. Conrad wanted to give him blood.... just a little.... just a few drops. The guy had T.B. and you know how much doctors charge. But he didn't know how to do it. He didn't know how to go about it. And he didn't want to scare him away. That's why he gave him all the money. Told the guy he should go 'see somebody.' And the guy did. He took his advice. Found an office. Went in. Of course he cleaned himself up first. Bought new clothes... everything from the inside out. Told the Stepford Girls out front he was paying cash. Doc ran a few tests... routine stuff. Everybody gets the same treatment. You know that. Blood tests... X-rays.... a scan.... Couple more consultations. Guy stayed in a hotel. Not a fancy place, but not a flea bag. Like where salesmen might stay. But the money didn't last long. Doc gave him the address of a 'good clinic' and Stepford Girls gave him funny looks when he walked out.
Now he's back on the streets. Knows how bad he is. Actually, I think there's a law. When 'they' know how sick he is, T.B. and all, 'they're' supposed to document everything. They're supposed to follow up. But the doc didn't want to get mixed up with a case like that...and they got ways.
Annie's 'son' went lookin' for him. He was gonna tell him. He was gonna give him the blood. He was gonna make him drink it. But some people are good at not being found. 'T.B.' guy was one of them. I think that takes a little bit of magic too, especially when it's a vampire who's doing the looking.
Conrad does 'taste things,' though. That's what some night-folk call it. They say 'taste things.' But not about T.B. guy... about Leo. Didn't know where he was. Just knew he was out there. And he was killing people all the time. None of that 'once a month. we're still believers' crap for him. Leo had this 'thing,'.... this act. He was a panther...a big, strong, black panther. The city was the jungle and the people were like little antelopes. And he liked it. Didn't say a word. Never made a sound. Just came up, grabbed them from behind and did the deed.
You know how many missing person's cases there are out there? You see them all the time. Xeroxed sign goes up in a super market. People look at it. They go 'tsk tsk tsk.' They talk about it a while... And then it's over. Pick up the soda. Grab the bread and you're out of there. Next time it's a dog missing, or maybe a cat.
Tomas and the rest'd be back soon. Conrad couldn't wait. He saw Johnny Jump Up the other night, standing in a church yard behind one of the tall obelisks. You know those high, skinny, grave stones some folks got? Look like portable Washington Monuments. Ghoul didn't do a thing... didn't even look at him. Just stood there, with his head twisted at a funny angle, watching the air.
Ghouls are funny. Night-folks avoid them. Who knows what they are...part ghost... part zombie...part psycho. Johnny looks like an anorexic undertaker from the eighteen fifties. Tight black suit... bony face... white skin... red lips... greasy hair. If the mouth was open, you'd see the teeth.... little sharp triangles, just like a shark. Too many for a human.
They say he was buried alive. They say 'something' got inside. That's how he got out....
Cops say city heats up in the spring. More robbing. More killing. More everything. And the equinox is still about seventeen nights away.
Look, Conrad is a vampire, but he ain't brave. Besides, he's brand new. You think Johnny Jump Up don't scare him? You're crazy. So he just walked away from the dark, shadowy church yard and left. But he turned 'round every few steps to make sure 'nothing' was there.
Boy does he wish the rest of them were back.
And now he's getting headache-dreams from 'something' called Matilda.
Seems The Pines are getting a little bit 'antsy' too...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. want to know more about our world? click on THIS ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are ALWAYS WELCOME. take as much room as you like. it's all good.
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ANOTHER VAMPIRIC SOUL FROM ANOTHER PLACE
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ANOTHER VAMPIRIC SOUL FROM ANOTHER PLACE: The Pines are in an uproar. Red Paint People, usually stoic, thirst for revenge. Matilda was special, groomed for spiritual duties and dest...We just want to remind you how crazy things can get back here in PHILADELPHIA-SOUTH JERSEY-DOWN THE SHORE #vampire land... vampire WONDERland, that is.... If you got the 'lingo' and you want the story and you know THE PINES, you gotta read this...... May you never know fear. May you never know pain. May you hide from death now and for forever......... prayer from The Vampire Liturgy .....
Sunday, March 3, 2013
SO LONG TO LONDON ... THE PHILADELPHIA VAMPIRES TAKE THEIR LEAVE .. 3/3/13
Baylah made one final visit to Selfridge's. She loved the accessories and a cold glass of wine savored in the rarefied atmosphere of the Wonder Bar was so comforting. Edith bought some toffee at Harrods. Tomas took delivery of his 'bespoke' footwear and Annie shoplifted two Paddington Bears. An assortment of other packages showed up too. In approximately two nights they'd depart, snug in a private jet belonging to the still missing, Russian, oligarch vampire, Grigory Usipov. Back to the fine, old, tick-tock atmosphere of their own town house..... Back home. The REVELS were interesting and perhaps one year they'd go again. Tomas had quite the profile in certain night-folk circles since his besting of Sir Richard. And Sarah enjoyed hob-nobbing with the influential and august beings assembled there. Remember her book shop days. Good conversation is everything to her. Well, almost everything, for she did instruct Tomas to arrange for a pair or two of tall, trim, oxblood riding boots for her from Foster & Son too. Odd to think that some of the measurements on file there belong to vampires, but they do. A nice, little man from Jermyn Street came out to size her up. She gave him a vial of her blood. There was sickness in his family, so it was only right.
They had a final audience with 'the emperor.' Marcus Aurelius was in a personable mood and so sorry to see them go. He truly believes in the work of 'Golden Dawn.' But Tomas and his people like a freer from of magic. The emperor smiled and called it a 'New World' affectation. Edith asked for an autograph. He gave her a thumbprint too. And wilkravitz got an old, bronze stylus, once used to inscribe secret messages upon wax tablets during the Battle of The Teutaberg Forest. You know, wax could be dug out and re-surfaced, the perfect medium for imperial confidences.
After that, they sat in the rear night-garden. One of the elder witch-women was out there too. She enjoyed the chill, quiet atmosphere, the perfect place for mumbling, humming and whispering songs. Tomas took Sarah's hand. She was his and he was hers, occasional infidelities not withstanding. And as time passed, such indiscretions became rarer and rarer. That's how it is with night-folk. You know the song. Bing Crosby sang it to Grace Kelly in a re-make of The Philadelphia Story.... 'You give to me. And I give to you. True love. True love.'.... They've only been entwined two or three years. Give it time.
Edith fell asleep, wrapped in a soft, new loden green coat. wilkravitz gazed at the moon. And Baylah made a call to her mortal companion at the Jersey Shore.
In another part of the residence, students of the arcane learned to manipulate ping pong balls and dental crowns with brain waves and hard gazes. Others traveled to Xanadu, the pleasure dome of Kublai Khan. While some just watched Graham Norton.
Conrad, Annie's 'forty year old' vampire sonny-boy' wants his mommy. He can't wait for her return. I don't know too much about Leo, the other one. Minnie and Blackie do their own thing. And 'Papa' (the Cro Magnon, thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere look-a-like) is 'Papa,' as always.
Fairy tales can come true. They can happen to you,
if you're young at heart.
See you in Philadelphia. The cherry blossoms 'long the Schuylkill should be blooming soon.
And don't worry who I am.... Some disembodied spirits like their privacy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more VAMPIRE WONDERLAND enter HERE ... (<~~~click on it) . COMMENTS, as well as your links are always welcome. and for some entirely different vampirismo, click on the work of famed Chicago writer MICHAEL SMITH ... or esteemed London writer ANDREW HARDING ... and please, if you like what you find here, tell others....
They had a final audience with 'the emperor.' Marcus Aurelius was in a personable mood and so sorry to see them go. He truly believes in the work of 'Golden Dawn.' But Tomas and his people like a freer from of magic. The emperor smiled and called it a 'New World' affectation. Edith asked for an autograph. He gave her a thumbprint too. And wilkravitz got an old, bronze stylus, once used to inscribe secret messages upon wax tablets during the Battle of The Teutaberg Forest. You know, wax could be dug out and re-surfaced, the perfect medium for imperial confidences.
After that, they sat in the rear night-garden. One of the elder witch-women was out there too. She enjoyed the chill, quiet atmosphere, the perfect place for mumbling, humming and whispering songs. Tomas took Sarah's hand. She was his and he was hers, occasional infidelities not withstanding. And as time passed, such indiscretions became rarer and rarer. That's how it is with night-folk. You know the song. Bing Crosby sang it to Grace Kelly in a re-make of The Philadelphia Story.... 'You give to me. And I give to you. True love. True love.'.... They've only been entwined two or three years. Give it time.
Edith fell asleep, wrapped in a soft, new loden green coat. wilkravitz gazed at the moon. And Baylah made a call to her mortal companion at the Jersey Shore.
In another part of the residence, students of the arcane learned to manipulate ping pong balls and dental crowns with brain waves and hard gazes. Others traveled to Xanadu, the pleasure dome of Kublai Khan. While some just watched Graham Norton.
Conrad, Annie's 'forty year old' vampire sonny-boy' wants his mommy. He can't wait for her return. I don't know too much about Leo, the other one. Minnie and Blackie do their own thing. And 'Papa' (the Cro Magnon, thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere look-a-like) is 'Papa,' as always.
Fairy tales can come true. They can happen to you,
if you're young at heart.
See you in Philadelphia. The cherry blossoms 'long the Schuylkill should be blooming soon.
And don't worry who I am.... Some disembodied spirits like their privacy...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. for more VAMPIRE WONDERLAND enter HERE ... (<~~~click on it) . COMMENTS, as well as your links are always welcome. and for some entirely different vampirismo, click on the work of famed Chicago writer MICHAEL SMITH ... or esteemed London writer ANDREW HARDING ... and please, if you like what you find here, tell others....
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