EVERYTHING IS EVERYWHERE What choices do you make? .
Subscribe To VAMPIRE WONDERLAND
Posts
All Comments
Twitter.com/wilkravitz
Posts
All Comments
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah..How 'Papa' Jonathon's creator was captured..... 9/23/13
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: Sarah and I have much in common. We both lost our parents at a most vulnerable age. She, after they lost their money. Her father had a stro...A peek back to the early days, when Jonathon was created and 'Papa' was abducted. A vampire's talents and abilities are so fluid, you know...Please click on that BOOK OF SARAH phrase up top and explore. Only three people saw this when it first appeared. It explains a few things..... COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome. thank you...
A NERVOUS AND AGITATED VAMPIRE ...... 4/24/13
Jonathon passed through other rooms and different chambers. He saw interior courtyards and high towers, hidden from the outside world by soaring mountains. Young, elferina girls (waif-like, pointy eared, pubescent vampires) ministered to the good natured cherubs, sharing tiny blood drinks and wrapping them in warm, woolen buntings. Even night-folk children appreciate comfort.
And there were hospice-like dormitories where silent vampirinas cared for seriously ill mortals, usually much loved retainers, but occasionally a sympathetic local tribesmen or two as well.
Many vampires assembled for the Creed Song, their version of a religious service. The Choir Master, reputed to be a former liturgical composer from Hagia Sophia, mother church of The Eastern Roman or Byzantine Empire, led them through intricately layered chants and hymns. The gold leafed, rough stone walls echoed with fine, clear, more-than-natural voices. 'May He Who made the universe, make us forever one,' they sang. And the song had many verses. At certain intervals they stopped for silent contemplation, or prayer-like recitation. Toward the end, each took the wrist of a neighbor and drank a bit of blood, before offering his own wrist to another.
Now all these sites were wonderful to see and Jonathon was truly appreciative. The gold embroidered robes, influenced by Persian courtiers, had no equal. And he savored wine tinged blood, drawn from the arteries of faithful mortal attendants, who were rarely, if ever, killed. Indeed, the memories would fill many pages in his journal.
But the one who led him here sensed something and said - What troubles you?....... Jonathon quietly answered - Everything...... The man with the sharp, cunning fangs whispered - A true vampire, I might say...... And he smiled. Then, in a small, soft, tiny voice added - Lose yourself. Become a vessel. Gather in the blood and let it out...' for those who must be saved.' Let the wicked die. Help the worthy live...... Jonathon said - Who taught you that?.... Though the man only shrugged and smiled.
The young life-eater from Al-Andaluz stayed in that place for perhaps three or four moons, sheltering there through the worst of the winter. And then he simply left, retracing his steps back toward home. Each day he hid from the light. And each night he assisted the worthy. Sometimes he ate. Not often, but monthly as was his habit. He fell into a rhythm and even forgot his name.... in the manner of the truest night-folk of all.
Jonathon has seen many things.
But please do not forget that what we've discussed are memories. For now he waits, pierced by many long, thin needles and unable to free himself from their bite.
His blood, so filled with many things, belongs to his captor now. And his tissues thirst because of it.
The old man, known as Tobias Maxwell, dips his hands in the red, frothy brew and rubs it on his face. But the large, golden bowl holds so much more....
As Jonathon quietly suffers, within his leaden tomb.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. click on THIS ..to see what you might have missed. your COMMENTS & LINKS are very appreciated.
And there were hospice-like dormitories where silent vampirinas cared for seriously ill mortals, usually much loved retainers, but occasionally a sympathetic local tribesmen or two as well.
Many vampires assembled for the Creed Song, their version of a religious service. The Choir Master, reputed to be a former liturgical composer from Hagia Sophia, mother church of The Eastern Roman or Byzantine Empire, led them through intricately layered chants and hymns. The gold leafed, rough stone walls echoed with fine, clear, more-than-natural voices. 'May He Who made the universe, make us forever one,' they sang. And the song had many verses. At certain intervals they stopped for silent contemplation, or prayer-like recitation. Toward the end, each took the wrist of a neighbor and drank a bit of blood, before offering his own wrist to another.
Now all these sites were wonderful to see and Jonathon was truly appreciative. The gold embroidered robes, influenced by Persian courtiers, had no equal. And he savored wine tinged blood, drawn from the arteries of faithful mortal attendants, who were rarely, if ever, killed. Indeed, the memories would fill many pages in his journal.
But the one who led him here sensed something and said - What troubles you?....... Jonathon quietly answered - Everything...... The man with the sharp, cunning fangs whispered - A true vampire, I might say...... And he smiled. Then, in a small, soft, tiny voice added - Lose yourself. Become a vessel. Gather in the blood and let it out...' for those who must be saved.' Let the wicked die. Help the worthy live...... Jonathon said - Who taught you that?.... Though the man only shrugged and smiled.
The young life-eater from Al-Andaluz stayed in that place for perhaps three or four moons, sheltering there through the worst of the winter. And then he simply left, retracing his steps back toward home. Each day he hid from the light. And each night he assisted the worthy. Sometimes he ate. Not often, but monthly as was his habit. He fell into a rhythm and even forgot his name.... in the manner of the truest night-folk of all.
Jonathon has seen many things.
But please do not forget that what we've discussed are memories. For now he waits, pierced by many long, thin needles and unable to free himself from their bite.
His blood, so filled with many things, belongs to his captor now. And his tissues thirst because of it.
The old man, known as Tobias Maxwell, dips his hands in the red, frothy brew and rubs it on his face. But the large, golden bowl holds so much more....
As Jonathon quietly suffers, within his leaden tomb.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. click on THIS ..to see what you might have missed. your COMMENTS & LINKS are very appreciated.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Night-Folk Holy Men and Scribes..... 4/23/13
The floor was paved with onyx-like tiles. Each one emitting a warm, creamy glow. Large crystals made from the same material dangled from the ceiling, suspended on thick, leather cords, filling the over head space with a dazzling display. Long tables, perhaps eight of them, ran the length of the room, flanked by legions of quietly toiling, night-folk scribes. Jonathon whispered - What are they writing?.... His vampire guide said - The truth.
Jonathon looked for permission. The vampire nodded. And he quietly made his way through the tables, observing the work. He saw books and scrolls... some in old Akkadian... some in classical Farsi ... some in Greek and some in Hebrew. Other scripts were represented, but he did not recognize them. And some composed original script in Sanskrit, also unknown to him. While a few lounged in a corner, delicately licking up rivulets of blood from the necks of specially conditioned human retainers. I guess they were on break.
Jonathon said - What IS the truth?..... The other one shrugged and answered - I don't know. Then he laughed and said - Do you see war here? Do you feel it?..... Jonathon said - No..... The man said - Well, that's a part of it. I suppose anything that makes us better is true... and anything that makes us worse is not. Look at them. Look at the faces. We have Goths and Scythians and Mongols and Tamil. We have Latins and Byzantines and Jews. Even the Sunni and Shia get on. There are females among them too.... as well as devotees of Siddhartha and the Vedas. Some from old Roman lands call us Shambalah. But there are many Shambalahs. We are but one.
Why am I shown this place? - said Jonathon.... Because we have to go through to get in there - he said, indicating yet another narrow passage.... Jonathon said - Oh... and casually waved back at a fat vampire girl making eyes at him, as she drew curly-Q kissie faces all over the border of her smooth, white, vellum page..... I wonder what future generations will make of that? Some look rather like Betty Boop, you know....
In the next space, old women (whether life-eater or not, I couldn't tell) worked with finely wrought lapidary tools, excising little discs of bone from piles of clean, dry, ivory skulls, which they fashioned into decorative pendants and earrings... What are they for? - asked Jonathon.... For the tourists - said the guide... But Jonathon didn't know what that meant, so he just went - Uh huh..... Vampirinos don't know everything...
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
While he reveled in this balm of nights past, his captor, the evil, or perhaps more accurately, the amoral, Tobais Maxwell, downed drop after drop of rich, red blood (stolen from his own enchanted tissues), as he chortled with selfish delight.
And in another part of the city, not so far away, Doctor Franklin met with Sarah and Baylah (over drinks at the bar of the Hotel Monaco) to see what they might do. As out on the streets, God intoxicated bands of 'Jonathonites' (mostly good hearted 'goth' girls who'd heard him preach in the basement of that bank building) walked down the pavement singing psalms. 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' was a favorite, though it's lack of Biblical provenance bothered no one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. fill in the blanks RIGHT HERE .. (by that we mean click on those words to see past episodes). your COMMENTS & LINKS are most welcome.
Jonathon looked for permission. The vampire nodded. And he quietly made his way through the tables, observing the work. He saw books and scrolls... some in old Akkadian... some in classical Farsi ... some in Greek and some in Hebrew. Other scripts were represented, but he did not recognize them. And some composed original script in Sanskrit, also unknown to him. While a few lounged in a corner, delicately licking up rivulets of blood from the necks of specially conditioned human retainers. I guess they were on break.
Jonathon said - What IS the truth?..... The other one shrugged and answered - I don't know. Then he laughed and said - Do you see war here? Do you feel it?..... Jonathon said - No..... The man said - Well, that's a part of it. I suppose anything that makes us better is true... and anything that makes us worse is not. Look at them. Look at the faces. We have Goths and Scythians and Mongols and Tamil. We have Latins and Byzantines and Jews. Even the Sunni and Shia get on. There are females among them too.... as well as devotees of Siddhartha and the Vedas. Some from old Roman lands call us Shambalah. But there are many Shambalahs. We are but one.
Why am I shown this place? - said Jonathon.... Because we have to go through to get in there - he said, indicating yet another narrow passage.... Jonathon said - Oh... and casually waved back at a fat vampire girl making eyes at him, as she drew curly-Q kissie faces all over the border of her smooth, white, vellum page..... I wonder what future generations will make of that? Some look rather like Betty Boop, you know....
In the next space, old women (whether life-eater or not, I couldn't tell) worked with finely wrought lapidary tools, excising little discs of bone from piles of clean, dry, ivory skulls, which they fashioned into decorative pendants and earrings... What are they for? - asked Jonathon.... For the tourists - said the guide... But Jonathon didn't know what that meant, so he just went - Uh huh..... Vampirinos don't know everything...
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
While he reveled in this balm of nights past, his captor, the evil, or perhaps more accurately, the amoral, Tobais Maxwell, downed drop after drop of rich, red blood (stolen from his own enchanted tissues), as he chortled with selfish delight.
And in another part of the city, not so far away, Doctor Franklin met with Sarah and Baylah (over drinks at the bar of the Hotel Monaco) to see what they might do. As out on the streets, God intoxicated bands of 'Jonathonites' (mostly good hearted 'goth' girls who'd heard him preach in the basement of that bank building) walked down the pavement singing psalms. 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' was a favorite, though it's lack of Biblical provenance bothered no one...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. fill in the blanks RIGHT HERE .. (by that we mean click on those words to see past episodes). your COMMENTS & LINKS are most welcome.
Monday, April 22, 2013
The Vampire Known as Jonathon Reaches The City ........... 4/22/13
He stood there in the crisp, bright moonlight and listened. They sang. The choir sang, but the language was unknown to him. At times he heard a chant. Then a single voice broke forth in an aria, or perhaps an old cantorial. After a while it stopped. But there was a faint, metallic echo in the air. Snow began to fall, light and clean and dry, powdering the rocky path before him. And then, after perhaps ten score heartbeats he saw them..... footprints made by an unseen soul, going up before him.... The vampire known as Jonathon followed.
All was silent, save for the wind. 'Earth breath' they called it. But he did not know that then. The path was steep and slick with gravel. But night-folk are strong..... Soon there was a change and the unseen soul began to congeal. A tall, spare figure materialized before him. Jonathon spoke. He said - Who are you? Tell me your name..... But the figure said nothing. Nor did it turn 'round. So they went on. The air grew icy. But 'cold' is just another flavor of reality to a life-eater, like a perfumed breeze, or spiders in the dark.
As they neared the summit, a portal opened (or disappeared) and small, plump beings flew out. Wings, they did not have. Yet they sliced through the night tracing patterns like skaters. 'Cherubs' they were.... tiny children, stolen into darkness by demon vampires of the noxious sort, but redeemed and sheltered by they who lived within.
They danced about the Andalucian pilgrim ... tiny moths 'round a flame, tasting him via quick, sharp nips from their pointy tongues. Too young for teeth they were, though Providence blessed them in another way. And by the blood they knew him. And they smiled. Their kisses tickled. Jonathon laughed, as tiny trickles of red ran down his cheeks...
He reached a flat place, a natural terrace. Ten steps hence there was a door, a plain, strong, thick, wooden door, with naught but a loop of rope, wrapped 'round an old iron hook for a handle. Instinctively he pulled it and went in. Then he heard a voice. The ghostly figure from the ascent was real now and seated on a simple, rough bench against the far wall of a small, gray, cave-like room. Fat, yellow candles in small, natural niches popped and sputtered, washing the space in a rich, dim glow.
Close the door - he said. So Jonathon did. And the sound of the wind disappeared. Where the cherubs went, I do not know..... Sit down - said the figure.... Jonathon slowly took a seat at the other end. He was wary, for even a vampirino knows fear. The figure laughed, lowered his hood and smiled, revealing the fine, sharp tips of lethal fangs. ..... Are, are you 'vampirici'? - Jonathon said.... The being thought for a moment before responding - We prefer night-folk, or life-eater, if you must, but yes, you can call us that...... What is this place? - the young vampirino quietly asked...... What do you want it to be? - said the other..... Then he got up and proceeded down a narrow, raw stone corridor. Jonathon watched him leave. Seven heartbeats later the fat, yellow candles began to go out, til only one was left. Jonathon (not eager to be abandoned in this place) carefully took it from the wall and hurried after the man with the fine, sharp fangs.
There was knowledge here. Jonathon knew it. So he followed the mysterious guide deep into the rock-face, til they came to another room, lit by a radiance independent of flame...
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
But back in the dream that was real, he still slept within the cool, leaden chamber, as drop by drop, his blood was drawn away...
Tobias drank it and was glad...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. please hit THIS .. for episodes you may have missed. your COMMENTS & LINKS are very much appreciated.
All was silent, save for the wind. 'Earth breath' they called it. But he did not know that then. The path was steep and slick with gravel. But night-folk are strong..... Soon there was a change and the unseen soul began to congeal. A tall, spare figure materialized before him. Jonathon spoke. He said - Who are you? Tell me your name..... But the figure said nothing. Nor did it turn 'round. So they went on. The air grew icy. But 'cold' is just another flavor of reality to a life-eater, like a perfumed breeze, or spiders in the dark.
As they neared the summit, a portal opened (or disappeared) and small, plump beings flew out. Wings, they did not have. Yet they sliced through the night tracing patterns like skaters. 'Cherubs' they were.... tiny children, stolen into darkness by demon vampires of the noxious sort, but redeemed and sheltered by they who lived within.
They danced about the Andalucian pilgrim ... tiny moths 'round a flame, tasting him via quick, sharp nips from their pointy tongues. Too young for teeth they were, though Providence blessed them in another way. And by the blood they knew him. And they smiled. Their kisses tickled. Jonathon laughed, as tiny trickles of red ran down his cheeks...
He reached a flat place, a natural terrace. Ten steps hence there was a door, a plain, strong, thick, wooden door, with naught but a loop of rope, wrapped 'round an old iron hook for a handle. Instinctively he pulled it and went in. Then he heard a voice. The ghostly figure from the ascent was real now and seated on a simple, rough bench against the far wall of a small, gray, cave-like room. Fat, yellow candles in small, natural niches popped and sputtered, washing the space in a rich, dim glow.
Close the door - he said. So Jonathon did. And the sound of the wind disappeared. Where the cherubs went, I do not know..... Sit down - said the figure.... Jonathon slowly took a seat at the other end. He was wary, for even a vampirino knows fear. The figure laughed, lowered his hood and smiled, revealing the fine, sharp tips of lethal fangs. ..... Are, are you 'vampirici'? - Jonathon said.... The being thought for a moment before responding - We prefer night-folk, or life-eater, if you must, but yes, you can call us that...... What is this place? - the young vampirino quietly asked...... What do you want it to be? - said the other..... Then he got up and proceeded down a narrow, raw stone corridor. Jonathon watched him leave. Seven heartbeats later the fat, yellow candles began to go out, til only one was left. Jonathon (not eager to be abandoned in this place) carefully took it from the wall and hurried after the man with the fine, sharp fangs.
There was knowledge here. Jonathon knew it. So he followed the mysterious guide deep into the rock-face, til they came to another room, lit by a radiance independent of flame...
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
But back in the dream that was real, he still slept within the cool, leaden chamber, as drop by drop, his blood was drawn away...
Tobias drank it and was glad...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. please hit THIS .. for episodes you may have missed. your COMMENTS & LINKS are very much appreciated.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Chupi...
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Chupi...: The essentially human, Tuva-Tuva aren't the only reconstituted life form on the red planet. Due to the vacillating conditions, many orga...YOU LIKE MARS and you ain't read EL RANCHO TEXACO yet!? Take a look at this 'hinky-dink' (Martian 'outback' talk) 'bout what it's like living with a reconstituted MONSTER... Click on them dark yellow letters up above. If you enjoy all the carnage, click 'newer post' or 'older post' at the bottom for much more. You know all about @MarsOneProject ...well, what you think it's gonna be like after a couple generations? 8^).... Some lingo....First Families, them what came over on the first few fleets, are called 'Troopers' (from the classic John Ford cavalry movies).. Martian 'national' anthem is SHE WORE A YELLOW RIBBON. Them fold take it serious...
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....
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
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...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. drink in more of our tale RIGHT HERE ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.
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....
+ + + + + + + + + + + +
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...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. drink in more of our tale RIGHT HERE ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)