A VAMPIRE IS PIERCED BY MANY ARROWS ..... 4/21/13

Jonathon recalled a city. Actually, more of an elaborate citadel, but they called it a city. He traveled there once many centuries ago. None went with him. It was a singular pilgrimage. Merchants and ambassadors returning to the western world via Venice spoke of it.... a fabled place of ancient magic and great spiritual calm. Some referred to the Caucasus. Others claimed the far side of the Urals, or the westernmost ramparts of the Hindu Kush.

He saw skulls with fangs.... very odd, in itself, since vampires always burn after death.... the 'cool' blue flame and all that. Some bejeweled craniums (the lower mandibles missing) are esteemed relics in basilicas throughout Christendom. I don't know what they say about the teeth though. 

Now travel can be an easy thing for night-folk. Roads are empty after sundown and deep, dark winding caverns make perfect bedrooms. Root cellars, or deserted 'haunted' ruins serve just as well when caves are hard to find. In this way vampires slowly move from place to place, should sublimation prove too taxing. 

Jonathon kept to the borderlands.... unclaimed, or contested places between vast feudal holdings, given to brush, forests and other feral conditions. Outlaws frequently disappeared there too. He fed on them, but also on an occasional cruel knight or man-at-arms.  Few ever saw him, although he did spy a satyr or faun once or twice. Centaurs are mythological, but they are not. Most likely an atavism harking back to an earlier time.

Then one evening at moonrise, he saw it... a silvery white pinnacle atop the craggy heights. And off in the distance, he heard a choir sing....

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It was at that moment things began to change. The impossibly long, sharp hypodermic needles began to slide into the huge, leaden box. And Jonathon was oblivious to it all, as he 'slumbered' deep in a night-folk sleep. 

The first needle came down from above, honing in on vibrations unique to vampire bodies. It pierced his scalp and via tiny, judiciously applied bursts of laser light, penetrated through the skull and into his spinal column. Another moved in laterally, easily melting through the soft tissue of the torso, before coming to rest in the blood-rich liver. Others traced different paths, til the thousand year old soul in the eighteen year old body was caught. And then the siphoning began. 

How happy his captor was, capering about as much as his wheeled conveyance would allow. He clapped his hands. He chuckled and nodded. Liver spotted skin never looked so thrilled.

But not too much. This was just the first time. Don't want to rile the beast. Mustn't injure himself. Vampires had been known to split in two attempting to sublimate through lead. Sometimes the head gets through... sometimes.... and then it stops. The rest of the body solidifies within the metallic barrier and the head falls off. ... But not this time. Maxwell's technicians were well trained and used to exacting tasks. The sedative, specially formulated for life-eaters and distilled from the original Ithican recipe, worked well. 

So Jonathon slept, if you can call it sleep, as tiny morsels of longevity (if not yet actual immortality) pulsed through unimaginably tiny channels, before finally being collected in an ancient, golden bowl...

While deep within the cube, he scaled the moonlit heights...
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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ENCOUNTER IN THE DARK

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ENCOUNTER IN THE DARK: The noxious vampire beasts made short work of the torn and battered humans, draining every remaining drop of blood from their ruined bodies....Please click on that ENCOUNTER IN THE DARK link up above. Only three people saw this back in the early days, but it's a portal into some good stuff from when Sarah and Jonathon went traveling... 'noble' vampires and 'noxious' vampires and trouble in the Carpathian highlands. Sympathetic monks and vicious monsters. If you like, click on 'newer post' at the bottom for more.... 700,000plus words up now. new episodes daily. a three dimensional world. PLEASE COMMENT & leave LINKS.

A NINETY FOUR YEAR OLD BILLIONAIRE SPEAKS ... 4/19/13

I sit here looking at that damn cat and I think... how vividly pink the insides of her ears are. I wonder what blood actually tastes like. Not the little trickles we suck up from rare steak or cut fingers... I mean thick, red rivers of it. But I am not a common slob. Those elevators filled with human life fluid in THE SHINING looked like melted sherbet.... Like ruptured cartons of loganberry sauce meant for the dessert table at a cheap buffet. 

I want quality...smooth firm skin and protein fed goodness. Soon I'm, going to stick him... that Jonathon you all love so much. He will be crucified and pinned in place like beef on a three dimensional shish-kabab. Like Saint Sebastian, or one of those other dreamy eyed, Counter Reformation poster boys.... While my carefully constructed apparatus drains him dry.... Then he will have to bite me, for I'll be filled with it... his crimson elixir, I mean.... 

But should he try to take too much and send me too my death, the roof will retract and he will burn... Sunlight, you know... Oligarchs are witty. We have many tricks.

And my necromancers can see him. They can taste him... right through all that lead. Such talented 'manipulators' they are.... an Inuit shaman.... a Highland Druidess.... the facilitator from a Long Island Weight Watchers' Meeting who discovered her abilities while hunched over an Atlantic City video poker machine. Five royal flushes in a row, don't you know... Even 'The Donald' took note. But I grabbed her first.

Soon they'll roll me into the dining room and feed me savory tid bits.  Alexander Hamilton once dined here, you know. So did Totie Fields. My tastes are so diverse. 

I gaze in the mirror imagining what I'll see after the transformation.... tighter skin... clear eyes, perky, youthful testicles... Tonight I'll have my liposuction. Dangerous for a ninety four year old... but 'billionaire' ninety four is like fifty six to you.

I wonder if my hair will grow back?

Ha ha ha ha ha ha (cough... wheeze... guzzle some pomegranate juice) ha...

Tobias Maxwell has spoken!
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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH: The housekeeper is all right. We laid her out on the little sofa in the morning room  and ladled some Jack Daniels ( spiked with a few drops...Here's a bit of what MARIANNE (our elferina) told high paying mortal guests, assembled in a plush, Society Hill townhouse, about her encounter with Inquisitional vampire catchers. Torture, intrigue, pain and superstition in dark, sinister places....

THE FUROR HUMANICUS PREPARES TO POSSESS ANOTHER WORLD..... 4/19/13

Conrad tapped away at his p.c.. Actually, he could have blogged for them, but the thought never crossed his mind. wilkravitz did that. It was already a done deal. Why rock the boat? Vampires are like that. Oh, they can adapt. They just don't like too. You see this when you've known them a while..... a really long while. The same individual may move around every ten to twenty years. People begin to notice the youthfulness, after all. But somethings never change... a penchant for Handel..... antique tall clocks... a certain Spanish sound upon the tongue.... references to the court of Timbuctu. We are all creatures of habit and some 'creatures' even more so.

But he saw something on line, a reference to a certain program, an organization promising to establish a human beach-head on Mars by 2013. @MarsOneProject they call it. And he wondered how soon it would be til night-folk made the trip. In all probability, not until the population reached a certain point. Life-eaters gotta eat too, you know. Yet the thought of such a thing intrigued him. So he pulled on his jacket and went outside. 

His block, a very tiny space, was quiet. But it was always quiet. The small, curbside trees were in bud. And even in the darkness, he could see them 'neath the streetlights. Two sleek cats prowled the shadows, sniffing out disoriented pigeons.... Last night they had rodent. Most other windows were dark. An old lady near the corner was still up. She liked the old black and white movies on that cable movie station. But so did Conrad. 

He thought about Jonathon, as he turned the corner onto Chestnut Street. Twenty somethings left the clubs. Old City closes up at 2am.  Last drinks morph into coffee and sticky buns at all night diners for those not hobbled by jobs. And he nodded to a few tipsy baby-ladies heading toward a cab. They self consciously tittered back. 

Edith said they'd find him. She had a feeling... a hoo-doo (frisson of magic). Tomas, known as Jonathon wasn't lost, but merely detained. Baylah said so too, though she and her friends still looked, searching the night with blood-fed dogs.

While not far away, the 'young' vampirino dozed, lost in ancient dreams. Tobias, his nonagenarian captor, waited. No lengthy needles pierced preternatural flesh tonight. It just didn't 'feel' right. The old man was funny that way, superstitious in a subtle, sober Quaker way. Though in all truthfulness the family hadn't followed the creed for years. So he sat in the keeping room, a small cozy space off the kitchen, staring at the tiny flame in the small brick, corner hearth. Soon they'd take him upstairs and arrange him in his bed. But he still felt out of sorts. 

Let it be known that Doctor Franklin caused that slight malaise via precise refinements on his Grand Armonica. His large, vaguely 'steam punk' harmonic apparatus could do many things. Vibrations are power. And the old reprobate had plenty of that. So Jonathon remained unmolested. His blood was his own for a few hours more.

Yet the movement continued. People remembered his sermons from that place under the bank building. After all, it's only been a couple nights. Food banks were fill. Out of town vampires here for the spirituality of it all gave out money. All night-folk have cash. And cleaned up, formerly homeless souls slept soundly, between crisp sheets in fine hotels. Even the sequestered hoodlums stuffed into the dungeons of old Eastern State Penitentiary had pizza... pepperoni... donated by a consortium of well known chains. So the resident ghosts shrieked for naught. Good, hot, runny, tomato pies take precedent, don't you know. The guards got their share too.

Conrad met a man sitting on a bench, deep in the shadows, near the perimeter of Washington Square. The man looked at him and said - You're a vampire fella, aren't you?..... Conrad said - Yep... The man said - You ain't gonna eat me? You ain't gonna make me go 'guhk,' are you?..... Conrad said - Nope.. The man said - I like the way things are now. Vampires... Magic. Met a witchy-woman just before. Got rid a my headache. She was real good. Sang real nice too. Think her name's Minerva. You know her?..... Conrad shook his head 'no.' ...... Man said - Sorry. Didn't mean no offense. Don't mean that all you hokus-pokus folk know each other. Sorry..... Conrad gestured as if to say 'Don't worry 'bout it.'.... Then the man said - Wanna go for coffee? Coffee shop at the Omni's still open. My treat. Come on. Tell me some a your vampire stories..... So they got up and went. But Conrad told him he hadn't been a vampire very long and didn't have all that much to tell. The man said that was OK. He'd tell all about the army.

But that stuff we told you 'bout @MarsOneProject a while back is true. They gettin' ready to go. Human beans all set to plant theyselves in another garden.

Let's hope they tend it real nice this time...
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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: GHOSTS ARE NOTMONSTERS

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: GHOSTS ARE NOTMONSTERS: When the last of her ashes rose up to the sky, the vampires came back inside. Sarah was quiet. She felt bad. Tomas repeated the prayer for ...Ghosts are just people who've lost their bodies, but managed to hold onto the good stuff..... please click on to that little sentence up above for a really nice episode you might enjoy...

THE MAN IN THE LEADEN BOX....... 4/18/13

The old man studied his hands. And they looked more like a grotesque panel in a gothic, graphic novel. So he called for a stethescope and they gave him one. Then he scootered over to the chill, metal wall and listened. But all that came back was white noise. Vampires can be quite still, like waxen figures in strange museums. It's instinctive. No practice necessary. Their joints don't lock... muscles don't cramp. Nothing happens. They just sit there, or stand there and that's the way it is. 

Jonathon wandered the markets of  Old Cordoba... the Street of Rubies.... Book Sellers' Lane... Apothecary Square. He loved that place. Spices from Serendip. Gossamer fabrics from far Cathay. Silver menorah from the Caucasus. And Johannan was with him. Mortality was his. Those words may sound incongruent to souls faced with such a prospect. But vampirinos feel different. He purchased a parrot. He liked parrots. Some rabbis, especially they who believed in 'the arc of a death,' as well as 'the arc of a life,' thought they might be spirits mistakenly (if such mistakes are possible) incarnated in avian form. And our eighteen year old aristocrat was eager to find out. So his servant (Johannan) bore the bright eyed, irridescent beastie on his forearm and they proceeded on their way.

Now the leaden box had certain features unknown to the prisoner within. Apparently, Tobais Maxwell's billions could work subtle magic even a vampire couldn't 'see.' There were sharp, tiny tubes protruding from the exterior of the trap. And the Maxwell patriarch had to be careful when he approached its surface lest one didn't pierce him. Via a system of intricatly installed magnetics (plus a cunning, little remote control device) he could 'push' these needle sharp hypodermics far into the black interior.... like a magician's box bristling with many swords.  And in this way impale the vampire on multiple axises. Then other needles, coming in from other angles (but not going all the way through) could syphon out the blood.  What he had was basically a 'milking' machine made for reluctant donors. And Jonathon was certainly one of those. 

But blood, taken in this way, might restore health and vigor, though it could not grant immortality, for there is no give and take. A certain closeness... A certain agreement is necessary for that.

Jonathon approached the stream... dropped his clothes and walked in, savoring the cool, fast moving current. And then he began to swim.

Blessed be the power of dreams...
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