I drift in and out of consciousness. JOHNNY JUMP UP ripped open my stomach. Few survive. I did. They have me on a morphine drip, in an effort t deaden the pain. Sarah, my 'vampire' friend was here. She sublimates onto the floor late at night, when most of the nurses are drinking coffee and eating these real big apple fritters from Dunkin Donuts. It's dark then. Well, 'darker.' They got these weak, blue night-lights, like something out of a Cronenberg horror film. Please excuse the way I spell. Communicating via brain wave sensitive head band and it's slipping down and cutting into the skin of my upper eyelids, the part that gets hidden in the crease when my eyes are open.
Sarah put a few drops of her restorative blood into my morphine bag. The old guy in the next bed (semi-private room) started yelling. Said he was gonna tell. She begged him to keep quiet, but he wouldn't. So she ripped off a piece a duct tape and pressed it over his mouth. Put some over his nostrils too. He couldn't pull it off, 'cause his hands were already tied down, 'cause he was tickling the nurses too much and considering they carry sharp needles and urinary catheters and all, that could be dangerous. A lot a vampires carry duct tape. I don't know why. they don't say. But they do.
Only thing is... the guy died. Vampires tend to forget how hooked on oxygen we are, 'cause they're not. So she , quick, tore off the tape, stuffed it in her pocket and vanished.
Forty minutes later, nurse comes in, sees his worse than usual blue-gray color scheme and goes - Jesus Christ! ... Took them three hours to transfer him to a dead box and de-corps-ify the place. Hospitals NEED better de-corps-ifiers. Everybody knows that. Doctor Oz talks about it all the time.
I'm still all mauled up, but I am a little better.
Old guy's step daughter, Phyllis, says she gonna buy a boat and maybe a whole lot a pair a Uggs, 'cause she likes 'em so much.
You see, her name was on the will....
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This is Leo. you don't know too much about me. I'm the newest vampire here. Keep to myself. Do my own thing. Conrad thinks I don't like him, but that's just the way I am. Know a little bit about computers too. Not a lot, just a little. Used to hang around the free ones at the library before I got into this new hobby.
Everybody's all upset around here. Edith is crying. Sarah's already been to the hospital twice. The desk nurse knows something's funny about her. Doesn't know she's a vampire, but she knows something's wrong. Think she's a Wiccan. The nurse, I mean. They have like an 'energy skin' ... an invisible membrane that senses things.... little vibrations.... irregularities.... You know. Not like Edith. She's no Wiccan. Still has her own religion. Think she's some kind a Protestant. But she IS a Pow-Wow Woman. Knows old Delaware and Leni-Lenape magic... colonial English stuff... old French stuff... what the Dutch did. I think there's even some Jersey Devil hoo-doo in there.
What was I telling you?... Oh, yeah. wilkravitz got messed up real bad. Went out for some chicken nuggets. You know how McDonald's has that twenty nuggets for four dollars and ninety nine cents thing? He likes it. The whole box has like nine hundred calories. Not so bad for a mortal dinner, I guess. I still remember. Sure I still remember.
He likes to bundle up and go walking 'round the neighborhood at night. And it's not usually that deserted around here. Always somebody out with a dog, or coming back from a show or dinner. It's the city. You know. But it was pretty cold last night. Damp too. And some of the streets 'round here are real narrow. One street light blows out and it's pitch dark... really. Sometimes it happens right when you go by. I hate that. I'm a vampire and I STILL hate it. Makes me think who's watching? What did it? Who's out there.
Found him on a real skinny, little lane... like barely twelve feet from one front door to the opposite 'cross the street. Ripped him right in the stomach. Took a bite out of his diaphragm, some guts, a little liver.... regular offal smorgasbord. And you know who did it. That son-of-a-bitch, ghoul bastid did it. Would a killed him, if he still wasn't weak. Probably crawlin' along the street, like a homeless drunk. Nobody'd look. They'd cross over to the other side. What? They're all real skinny. Only this one's got eyes. Real 'bad' eyes. Dark eyes. Like glittery eyes. Like dark fire. Like black fire. And he's crawling on his hands and knees. Drooling mucus and blood and everything. Stinks like from a carnal refuse dump. Couple rats following for scraps. Yeah, the rats are back, 'cause they know he's not gonna eat them. Got too much strength for that. He wants people now.... And he had to find our 'blog guy.' ..... We like him. He's a good guy. We like him.
Some old man peeking out his curtains saw him. Screamed just like a little girl. You know how them old folks shriek and all? Called nine-one-one. Rescue Squad came out. You know, they got these little vans for narrow streets.?That's what they use. Scraped him up. Put him in. Slammed the door. Drove away. They got him in Jefferson now. Sarah says it's a good hospital. She should know... effects a lot a cures in there. But it's gotta look natural. A little bit a blood here. A little bit a blood there. You know those little vials they use? Those free, perfume sample things they used to have? That's what she likes. Some guy, a familiar, I think, sends her crates of them.
Look, he's gonna pull through. He'll probably pull through... I think... Drifts in and out of consciousness. Oh, God. You should see how he's bandaged up. I don't have to tell you how many stitches. And besides the gashes... besides the bites... his heads all bruised too. I think it's a concussion.
I'm not worried. Even if he dies, Tomas won't let him stay that way. That 'life-eater' gonna raise him right up. He's lookin' for a miracle. You know that.
'The Book of Tomas'.... coming soon to a Bible near you...... Eh, but he means well. Wants a sneak into wilkravitz' room and juice him up and all. Sarah talked him out of it. She told him not to, 'cause he looks real crazy.
You know, being a prophet can do that to people.
But I don't know what he's prophecizing about, 'cause it all comes out in Aramaic and Hebrew.
Look, I got a go kill somebody. What can I tell you... Calms me down... Makes my knee stop shakin'...
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And Jonathon continues~~~> I'm walking through a graveyard. Well, not really a graveyard. Graveyards tend to be small and attached to churches, or occasionally old synagogues. This is more of a cemetery, a modern invention meant to confuse death and a picnic ground, or perhaps a public garden. We've referenced it before... Laurel Hill, a sprawling, mossy, almost storybook-like necropolis filled with moldering, old monuments and Poe-like mausoleums. Rabbits hop before me. And other things watch from discrete shadows among the silvery moonlight.
I hear things in this place, messages from the property owners. Oh, many of them aren't here, at least not in the spiritual sense, not anymore. They just use it as a sounding board between this world and the next. A child entombed (physically at least) 'neath a carefully chiseled little lamb, says 'hello' to everybody. Then she sings a little song. Sometimes she giggles. One man POUNDS on the rough, cold lid of his iron sarcophagus. A pre-mature burial victim, don't you know. He chokes. He screams. He groans. He mumbles. And the sad thing is, his ghost has never moved on. He's still there, locked inside, among the crumbling bones.
But a voice from an old mausoleum urges me on. It says 'Tell them! Tell them! Tell them!'.... Nothing else... Just that. So a prophet I must be. Yet I must chose my Jerusalem... my Shiloh... my Sinai.....
Oh, but 'we' are the things that dreams are made of..... And now, they must wake up. How will they perceive me? What will they believe? A vampire on the doorstep, but one adept at Scripture.
Mortals, mend thy ways. For if what comes next is not Judgement Day... it is, at least a first, cold 'hearing.' .....
I detect the voices of other life-eaters. Some mock me, a few urge me on. How 'bout you? Don't you want the world to change?
Now I leave this city of decay and sublimate up into the air, high above the traffic on the expressway, on toward a meeting with a soul from long ago...
The cars form a glowing backbone snaking through the night...
>>>>> excuse this short epistle, but I think I'm losing consciousness<<<<<
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I am all alone. Some of the others are in the house, but I sit in my chamber by myself. And I think. And I listen. And I write. Tea For The Tillerman, that's what I listen to. I'm being followed by a moon shadow.. (sigh). I love that song. You can't imagine what it's like for someone like me to be here, in your time, I mean. Willow bark, the basic ingredient for aspirin, was witch craft in my day. And eye glasses, save for isolated regions of Cathay and the as yet uncontacted Toltec realms, were nonexistent.
Though my immediate world was somewhat better. We had fountains and marble floors. Tiny copper conduits piped cool water behind fine, ceramic tiled walls to lessen the oppressive heat of Al Andaluz. And mighty dhows brought us the rarest powders and nostrums from Hind (India) and Nippon (Japan) plus the aforementioned Cathay.
It has been said that we lived at a level comparable to well placed Britons, just prior to the advent of steam power. Aside from some cultural differences, Jane Austen and Victor Hugo would have been right at home. .... And I long for that place more and more each day. I think about the villa out beyond the wadi (stream/river) in the hills. We had a lute player, officially a slave, but very cultured and highly esteemed. His name was Namib. I think he was a Kurd. His music mixed with dinner and livened many celebrations. I still recall the melodies.
Maybe if I died, they'd take me there, or at least to a heavenly simulation. But I am a vampire. Death eludes me. And who knows if past sins bar me from that portal? Perhaps I am meant to repent? Perhaps I am meant to act on the 'visitation' I had so many years ago? To make it manifest and take it to mankind?..... I'm afraid of the sun. So I won't do that....
Little steps. I will take little steps. I'll do what I have always done. I'll visit the sick and make them well. I'll give them the vials and share the blood. When they ask for a name. I will not lie. I will not play the part of a mute angel. They will hear and they will know. I am Jonathon... and I am a life-eater...
It's funny. We say 'vampire,' but most hate that term. It's lurid and coarse and dirty. Fit for penny dreadfuls and bright, garish Hammer films.... 'Vampire,'..... I am not that.
Perhaps I will do as Marianne did and talk to them in groups. She did it to raise money for charity. Rich, Center City matrons and their carefully groomed mute husbands spent ten thousand dollars a piece to sit in townhouse-manor, neo-Sister Parrish splendor and hear her 'elferina's' tale. ... And they liked it too, especially when Roland (or was it Albion?) scampered 'cross the ceiling. The wine and tapas were just an added bonus...
I'll preach to them. I'll teach. And maybe, considering my miraculous condition, they'll listen. I wonder if Marianne still has the subscription list. At least those people will be familiar with our form. At least they won't scream and run away. Makes it so hard for life-eaters to meet new people, especially mortals, I mean...
Edith's watching an old classic Jenette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy movie on cable. I can hear the singing. Maybe I'll go in and join her.
She loves those sentimental things and so do I.
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It was a wet, cold, drizzly night. Annie was sitting on the floor in the family room watching Jay Leno. She was also popping the heads off he Barbies and switching them out. Ken looked good with Malibu Beyonce's head on his shoulders. Didn't look a hundred percent though. Tipped over toward one side (neck differentiation), but she don't care. Annie, I mean. Saw a rerun of The Beverly Hillbillies on cable. Now she wants to be like Granny and do head transplants. Wants 'Papa' to bring her some prisoners so she can practice. He don't pay her no mind. Just sits there like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere look-alike with a moderate case of catatonia. It would be a severe case, but he does move his eyes once in a while and go 'humph.' She gets mad and goes to kick his legs.... like in his shins, you know? But he grabs her real fast and goes WHOMP! right up to the ceiling, with his levitation powers.. Last time Edith had to go get her down with an aluminum folding ladder and a spatula. She never learns.
Her little friend, Larry, from The Vampire Revels, called. Wants to brag about his trip to Disney. Vampire 'parents' had to rent a house outside the park, 'cause they couldn't stay in a hotel. Maid wants a clean up. They want to sleep. She gets angry. They gotta kill her and all. And you KNOW what that does to a bill.... Them hotels know how to work all the angles.
She wants Tomas and Sarah to take her. To Disney, I mean. But he ain't too communicative lately. Sits in what they call 'the parlor' (Annie calls it the 'quiet talkin' room'), 'cause they go in there to discuss things when they don't want her to hear. Tomas is in there now. He's sitting in a deep, comfy wing chair, right by the inglenook, reading a Bible. Look how mesmerized he is. What he really wants to do is walk the streets giving five thousand dollar 'flats' of hundred dollar bills to poor folks, only it's so raw out there, he's waiting for it to warm up a little. Being a saint is one thing, but Tomas known as Jonathon ain't about to engage in mortification of the flesh. Look, icy rain can't kill him, but still.
Though he is really pensive. Last night, just before dawn, when he came back with the box of Pascal Bread from the market, he goes out back to sit next to 'Papa' in the garden. It was cold then too. But it was a dry cold and that's not so bad. 'Papa' doesn't say anything. Just stares at that rock poking up out of the little ivy bed. Just stares... Just stares.... Tomas sighs and says - 'I'm done. I'm ready. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't.'...... Nobody answers. ...But Tomas doesn't care, because he told the truth. Last time he felt this way Baylah helped him. They were gonna convert the world. He 'appeared' to a crowd at Friday Evening Services at the old, venerable Reformed Temple Rodeph Shalom on Broad Street. She appeared to a group from an artificial grotto in a little pocket park right by an Olive Garden. The Center City yuppies at Rodeph Shalom blamed him on carbon monoxide poisoning and fired the sexton. The folks walking over from the lot to their pasta dinners thought she was The Black Madonna and the cops had to chase crowds away from there for the next three weeks.
But this time it's going to be different. This time it's going to be real. No stunts. Just remember the message. Just remember what the angel said all those many years ago....
The Pure and Simple Thing.... The Pure and Simple Thing... The Pure and Simple Thing...
And he wasn't talking 'bout Ivory Soap...
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They sat in a back booth and drank coffee. Sarah and Tomas did that sometimes. There was a little twenty four hour pancake house... knotty pine walls... old-timey. Had a regular waitress too, Cheryl. They always sat with Cheryl. Place looked out on South Street. Yeah, 'that' South Street. The one from the 60's song. The one where all the hippies meet. Only vampires meet there too. Tonight they got crepes... real light, lemon-sugar crepes. If you cut them up into tiny pieces and mash them around it looks like you ate most of it. But the coffee they can drink. Certain liquids (like alcohol) don't bother them too much. And the coffee's good here. Very aromatic. Night-folks like that.
It's real quiet in there now. Sunday's an early night. Even the twenty-somethings who stretch the weekend with an extra round of clubbing duck out by twelve. Another couple sat up front. That was it. All the other seats were empty. Tomas liked it, because the place didn't have a big plate glass window, but little cafe style ones peering out from the booths. Had tie-back curtains and everything. Goldie-Locks and the Three Bears could eat in there.
Sarah said, 'How do you feel? About what you did last night, I mean.'......He just shrugged. But you could tell that it bothered him...... Tomas whispered, 'Don't say anything to Edith. I don't want her to know. But that son of a bitch was a real bastard. I know what she went through. I could see it. I could feel it. I could tell. She was the hillbilly Piney woman. That's what he thought. That's how he treated her. And she took it, because the place was nearby and she doesn't like to leave the house that long while we're all sleeping. Even when she has her sticky buns it only takes like twenty minutes. No, Edith is a good soul. She didn't deserve that. And that blond bitch from the next block got her bra on straight now too, I want you to know. Scared her real good....
'What did you do to her?' said Sarah..... 'Nothing. I didn't do a thing. I didn't touch her. Just 'vaporized' up through the bedroom floor and stood over her. Told her what's what, that's all,' he said..... Sarah laugh-snorted a mouthful of coffee..... Cheryl looked up from her Star Magazine to ask, ' You, ok, hon? You want some napkins?'..... Sarah told her they didn't need any, but she brought them some anyway. Guess she thought it helped justify her tip. She didn't have to do that. Everybody knows vampires are good tippers.
Sarah wanted to know if the blond could tell her night visitor was Tomas. But he said she kept whimpering ' Malcolm? Malcolm? Malcolm?' so I guess she didn't. Besides, it was dark. And who expects Malcolm to come rising up through the broadloom (warmer in a bedroom, you know) ?
Thing is, Tomas didn't want to kill the pastrami guy. Didn't even know he was gonna do it til the last second. And that was pretty strange for him. He's an 'older' vampire. They're usually less impulsive. Look at 'Papa.' He can sit and stare at a rock in the garden for three weeks. Not during the day. But you know what I mean. Boy, talk about 'Zen,' I'll tell you.
But something was eating him. You know how he gets this time of year. Biblical experts tell us the true meaning of the term is not Passover, but 'The Hovering.' God does not say 'I shall pass over you and then move on.' He says, 'I shall hover over you and protect you, now and forevermore.' Tomas feels that. He remembers, for he had a visitation while still a mortal. I don't know all the particulars. He keeps it close. But one night, during the Pascal tide, an angel came to him. Perhaps while he was studying, or maybe at prayer. The Messenger said (and this was the message he relayed. he was not speaking for himself) I am The Unity, like unto there is none else. No thing can separate Me from thee. I am The Creed for all creation. I am the One True Shining Faith. I am the Light that shines through every wall. I am the Straight Road Home. I am the Pure and Simple Thing. I am One, so 'you' are one.' And in that instant, Tomas, rightly known as Jonathon, as a physical singularity, saw every sentient being, ever born or too be born anywhere in the omniverse...... Now, after almost one thousand years, Jonathon known as Tomas still hears it and even the fact of his 'burden,' his vampirism cannot void it's truth.
Tomas didn't want to be a vampire anymore. He didn't want it. Not that he ever really did. But this year felt different.
A bit later, while walking back home, he went into an all night market and purchased a package of matzoh, a package of Pascal Bread..... the bread of haste.... the bread of the poor.... the most basic form of sustenance wrought by the hand of man.... just water... just wheat.... and nothing more.
Would he eat it? Who knows? But he carried it with him.
And I am Johannon, the one who saved him from the flames...
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Edith was crying. Tomas found her like that. The sun had just about set and he was getting ready for the evening. He can take 'the gloaming' in small doses, but prefers waiting for true nightfall. Sarah saw too, but she didn't know what to do. He did.
Some counter guy in the delicatessen hurt her. He snubbed her. Edith goes in there to buy food for herself and wilkravitz. Even the vampires filtch a mouthful or two. They grab what they like. They remember mortal favorites, even if it means throwing it all up a few minutes later. Sometimes visitors from The Pines eat over too.
And everyone likes Edith. She's nice to everybody. Always gives money to local charities and makes sure the little old bird house by the back door is never empty. But this guy made like she wasn't there. Smirked to some bitch next to her. I guess they were talkin' about her when she walked in. She's all happy and all. Edith enjoys walking around the neighborhood. Never expects to run into things like this. They all think she's a housekeeper. A regular 'Hazel.' That's what she is. Sits down for a cup a coffee (maybe a sticky roll) a few times a week. Gives birthday cards to everybody. She's from The Pines. People act that way. And she DOES have a certain insecurity about living in the city. She DOES think people look down on her for that.
Look, who knows what she did? Who knows what she said? Probably nothing. But some people like power plays. Maybe the smirking bitch spends more money? Maybe the deli guy likes her? Who the hell knows? But Edith was there to take what they were throwing. And now Tomas feels really bad. You know how empathetic and emotional life-eaters can be? He can visualize the whole thing. He can see right into her head. Saw her quietly hug her pocketbook, swallow down a tear and walk out. Saw her slowly trace her way up and down the aisles of the nearby supermarket, as she sadly put items into her cart. When she checked out, the cashier said - Honey, are you all right?.... Edith gave her a quick, little closed mouth smile and nodded. Then she silently walked home, put all the stuff away and sat staring out at the little, backyard garden. She takes things to heart. She'll be like this for days.
But Tomas wasn't having any of it. Not HER. She did nothing wrong. He KNOWS how she feels. But that other one was gonna face the music. Not a 'culling.' He wasn't gonna feed on him. He was gonna do something altogether different.
Edith came up with the name. wilkravitz, via the computer, found the address. And ten minutes later he left. Most of the night proceeded normally. But later...much later, he had a certain stop to make. And no alarm can keep him out.
That deli guy must be the owner. Does well. Nice condo. Balcony, river view... everything. Neighbor on one side a big D.J.. Other side got a district attorney. But Tomas don't care about them. Not tonight.
He sublimated through the glass doors, soundlessly making his way through the almost tasteful Bauhaus interior. TV light flickered out from the bedroom. Goes in. Turns it off. Sits down. You know those guys who are slightly in shape, but with a smooth sleek veneer of too much subcutaneous fat all over their body? Looks like they're maybe twenty five percent dolphin, or something? Well, that's what we had here. Salt and pepper hair, almost Mitt Romney style, a real pastrami Lothario. But nothing much on the wrong side of the counter.
So Tomas moves his seat into a moonbeam. Then he clears his throat. Guy wakes up. Rubs his eyes. Blinks. Notices and goes - Jesus Christ!..... But before he can do anything else, Tomas levitates up from the chair, floats over the bed (nine foot ceilings) and points right down at the guy's face. He quietly says - You, sir, have a debt to pay... Then he smiles, so the guy can see his fangs ... Three heartbeats later, pudgy pees the bed.
Tomas says - Put on some warm clothes..... The guy does. He shakes. He trembles, but he does. Turtleneck, well actually a mock turtleneck. His jawline won't tolerate the real thing. Sweatshirt...pants... big, woolly socks...jacket...scarf (the cashmere kind they sell on the street in Florence for souvenirs). He's ready. And he wants to talk. He wants to say something, but he's so scared, he just can't.
Winces when Tomas comes up behind and grabs him 'round the chest. Two heartbeats later they sublimate through the exterior bedroom wall (powerful vampires can do that with a passenger too, don't you know) and shoot up into the freezing darkness, til the Delaware River is no more than a gunmetal, icy ribbon down below.
Guy starts kicking his feet. Starts trembling. Guess that leather jacket wasn't doing too much up there. Goes - Who are you!? What are you!? What are you gonna do!?? Aachh! Aachh! Aachh!
Tomas makes like he's losing his grip. Guy goes - No! No! No!...
Then Tomas whispers - You know a regular customer named Edith?...... Guy don't say a thing, but Tomas can tell that he does, so he loosens his grip just a little and whispers - Well, I do.... Then he unclasps his hands, raises them over his head and watches as the pastrami king plummets toward the water down below. Hit the surface at one-sixty miles an hour. Belly flopped right into it. SMACK!!! Bones sink to bottom. Flesh floats on top. More like a grease slick, actually. Never found a body. Brother-in-law took over. Folks say he's a lot nicer. That bitch woman nicer now too.... 'Somebody' put the fear of God in her.....
You know what I mean?
Edith never knew what happened. And maybe the guy really did want a chance to talk...
But who cares?
That's what happens when vampires right wrongs...
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