I wish to continue our discussion. Vampires still perspire. And we do not ooze blood. What comes out is sweat. Which is odd, for we do not crap. At least I do not. They tell me the magic (not all consider it a burden. that jargon belongs to Judaeo-Christian types) settles differently on each and every one of us. Some excrete a paste-like substance. In the middle ages, dried turds were considered relics and sold as 'angel shit.' But I don't think they do that anymore.
Most nights I frequent the East End. I recommend it to all visiting vampires. The 'food' is quite divine. And poor folk die so conveniently. No one cares. Few notice. It's all so easy.
Did I tell you I saw The Ripper? I could smell the blood. There was so much of it, so could the rats. He had her on a bed... a filthy, crusty pallet in a dank, mildew cellar. And, I must say, he was a true virtuoso of the blade. I believe he favored a Neapolitan stiletto, long and thin and sharp. Your California 'Zorro' couldn't do any better. Such a juicy ripping sound. How appetizing. Please, I have to admit it. Don't hate me.
He hummed a little tune.... something from the music halls. I don't know the name. And she was spread open like a Prussian eagle... internally exposed from trachea to pudenda. Though not at all self-conscious. Death cures all manner of phobia, you know.
Did he see me peeking through the small, street level window? Well, I think he did. I think he knew I was there.... An audience and a safe one at that.
Oh, I can tell you who he was. But why should I spoil your fun. Night-folk know many things.... eternal witnesses we are. We know which miracles were real. And we know where all the bodies are buried.
Your Jonathon does not like to hear that, for he believes 'with a perfect faith.' I think he has a messiah complex. I've spent evenings with the young Doctor Freud. Oh, how he wanted to analyze me.... a night fiend... a vampire... I ghoul. Well, to him I was a ghoul. But if you've been reading this for a while, you're familiar with the one they call Johnny Jump Up and you know what a ghoul really is.
I stroll through Covent Garden looking for my own Eliza Dolittle.... East Enders.... Sloane Rangers.... Pearly Kings and Pearly Queens.... My tastes are so eclectic.
Six quarts of blood. Where do I put it all?
I think she picked me for my looks.... 'Mama' Jeanette, I mean. I've been told I'm a pre-cursor to the young Lawrence Olivier.
You should see me play Macbeth.
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taste more night stuff at ~>MIDNIGHT PIXILATED BUFFET ... look for us on Twitter at @wilkravitz .... thank you.
And while that anonymous English vampirino prepares for his evening dalliances, permit us to tell you of other things.
Have you ever walked down a tree lined thoroughfare late at night? Street light flickers through the leaves. It's quiet, save for a faint rustling, natures 'white' noise. You look down, lest you trip on an old, cracked, raised portion of pavement. Sometimes you smell mice. Sometimes you don't. And shadows, or perhaps I should say 'deeper shadows' provide sinister frisson.
Images snap in and out of the ether. A person... A raven... A being... A wraith. Merely illusions, or something else? A voice filters out of a house... laughter... anger.... But at least you're not alone... Till a window slams and the sound disappears.
Then the 'white' noise changes. A foot fall?... A cough?.... You pivot 'round to see.... And 'it' stops.... You continue past a neatly trimmed hedge... maybe six feet high.... Then you hear low, subtle mumbling on the other side.... Shhh, be quiet. If you're careful no one will hear you pass. Sneakers can be so quiet. Tense your foot a certain way. Take care with every step. 'They'.... 'He'.... 'It'.... won't hear you. At least that's what you hope... But the mumbling comes back.
Does the shadow by that curbside tree up ahead seem a bit thicker and darker than usual? Is there a tiny glint where an eye would be?... A strange, unexpected movement?...
You flip open your cell phone. That's what they tell you to do. Look purposeful. Make like you're talking... Act strong. But darkness can be stronger. You hear a sniff.... Shhhh, where'd it come from?....You hear a name...a word... a 'something.'.... All the windows are dark.... Maybe a car will go by?... Maybe it won't?....
Then your scalp begins to tingle. You want to walk. You want to move, but you can't..... Hide... Do it....Slip back against a tree... Melt into a shadow. Why did you stay out so late? Why did you walk this way?
A shadow floats toward you... A person?... Can they see you? Do they know you're there?
Oh, come on. What do you think?
And then it happens... The street light winks out.... That's when you hear the whistling.... very quiet.... very soft.... but 'there.'
When you go into the woods tonight, you're in for a big surprise..... That's it. Those are the words. You know the song.
But you'll never, ever hear it again...
There is no help and no reprieve. Too late for that. But you pray, you hope, you beg.
And then it happens.... Neck bones snap so easily.... you even hear them 'pop,' as strange, cold hands caress you in the dark.
A centipede tickles your corpse...
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I did shed my skin, but not in a pit. She, the one who made me scrubbed it off in an old claw foot bathtub. And a servant girl sworn to secrecy scraped up the wet, viscous strips and burned them in the furnace. I lay curled in a fetal position, moaning for days. Fortunately, the tub was in the cellar.
Now I know there were other life-eaters in London then, but we never fraternized with any and they left us to our own devices. She taught me to feed... when, where, and how. Tiny bites above a blood vessel. Arteries are best. Always raise the head above the feet to slow the flow. Sedate the victim with alcohol before the ordeal. Fortified wines, like Sherry, work best. We didn't want to torture anyone, just 'eat' them. And she who made me didn't confine her appetites to the wicked... not always, anyway. Though she preferred taking isolated souls who wouldn't be missed. I liked watching them ignite after it was over. I liked the 'cool' blue flame. Sometimes in the autumn, when the air was cold and dry, we'd watch as large, flaky ashes rose up into the sky and disappeared.
Do you know I never once addressed her by name. And to this night I'm not really sure how old she is. I did hear her talk in her sleep. She mumbled in Vahmperigo.... an Eastern dialect quite akin to Old Slavonic, but with an admixture of Byzantine and even Hunnish words thrown in too. Being educated, I knew a bit of Greek and picked out some of the words. She was lonely. I knew that, but not overwhelmingly so.
'Jeanette,'.... The British people called her Jeanette, except when they called her India, or Tess, or Francine. She didn't care.
But she dressed me like a prince. My linen was spotless and starched to perfection.... Not stiff, just white and pristine. My suits were fashioned from the best worsted wool.... long frock coats and all that. And my boots, ankle length, were of a high polished leather. Dragon skin, I believe they were. Vampires knew where to get it. Certain Indian rajahs and naywobs still kept select specimens in carefully constructed enclosures. But the Congress Party put a stop to it. I don't know why. Gandhi cried to see them go. Though I'm told a surviving root stock still survives high up in Nepalese valleys. Perhaps, one night, I'll go there.
Oh, did I tell you? Sometimes I drink from the wrist, or the breast, or the buttock. An affectation of mine. But usually from the throat like everyone else.
Tonight I'm having a Sloane Ranger. 'GOOGLE' it. You'll see what I mean. I'm really looking forward to it.
Now let me be. I have to dress... and Mordecai , my valet, takes such pains.
Where's that flask of sherry?....
(more tomorrow)
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I never knew it was coming. They invited me to a party...more like a symposium, actually. I believe Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was there too. There was a house in London, a stylish townhouse, owned by a group given to paranormal investigations and magical experimentation. They brought a goldfish back from the dead once. But the West Indian stevedore stayed that way, so he wound up in the Thames. Perhaps he revived down there.
An older gentleman, though quite well preserved identified himself as 'the facilitator.' Some of the others seemed to know his name, but I did not. He said we would attempt a levitation. None of that parlor game nonsense... No rigid body 'tweet two chairs. They had a subject already picked out. Now I know she was obviously a vampire. Yet those in attendance hadn't a clue.
She wore a blue dress... quite dark... almost black. They said her name was Jeanette and she sipped some type of French cordial from a small green glass. I believe it smelled of chocolate.
They had us stand up and hold hands. We formed an oval. She lay on the rug. It was quiet, save for all the clocks. Inquiring folk in the nineteenth century had quite a thing for clocks. Maybe it was the intricate mechanisms? After all, computers were still very far away.
An attendant came in with a long metal chain. I think it was aluminum.... back then a precious and little known substance. He draped it 'round our shoulders. The facilitator said a prayer and we replied in Sanskrit.
Approximately twenty four heartbeats later, that Jeanette, laying on the floor between us started giggling, as if tickled by unseen fingers. And then she began to rise up. Our charade had nothing to do with it, but we believed that it did. Vampires can do many things and this simple demonstration was a specialty of hers. Needless to say, the night was a success.
We repaired to the library, an octagonal chamber with a leaded glass roof, for light refreshment and conversation, quite secure in our new found wizardry. Khartoum was the big thing back then...Lord Kitchener and all... the eighteen eighties... the Mahdi. And this group was very progressive, since the ladies joined in too.
When we left, I shared a cab with the vampire woman. The coachman was her 'familiar,' but I didn't know that. Two squares hence, she had him turn off the thoroughfare and proceed down Rotten Row, an equestrian lane much loved by the horsey set, though quite dark and empty now. I noticed, but said nothing, for I was young and desperate to appear less so.
She began to kiss me and nuzzle my neck. I pressed against the door. She moved closer. Her fingers were quite adept. Five minutes later I was naked.... and six minutes after that a vampire, although the shedding of the skin had yet to occur.
We exited the park and entered a little mews. One of the well appointed bijou was hers. She gave me a black, satin cape, neatly folded for that purpose. I put it on, lest any neighbors saw us arrive. When the coachman hopped down and opened the door, I followed her out and into the dwelling, more or less oblivious of my hasty transformation.
Once inside, she pulled it off and then I began to learn.....
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explore more at ~>Billy Kravitz' VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ..... please COMMENT here or join us on Twitter, click ~>@wilkravitz ... thank you..... tomorrow night the tale will continue.
James Gandolfini lost his physical body today. But the rest of him is here. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed... and boy does he have a lot of that.
If I did this right, the video I 'shared' should have a real nice tribute. I'm not too digitally savvy, but I do my best.
Take care of yourselves. Eat right. Move and jump around a little. If you do it to music, you can call it dancing.
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Now here's what our night-folk have to say. I believe we've been talking to RENATE (reh-nah-tay).....
And she says ~~~~ I pity your mortality. Even if you endure for one hundred years that is still but 36,500 days... Maybe a little more, allowing for the leap years. Such calenders you have. Such artifice. Such conceit. Every little tribe thinks they have it right. But who cares about the details? Renate goes by the moon. What more do we need?
Am I the first life-eater (vampire)? No. Those who've journeyed with us for a while know that. There is no first. There always was. Time is only an explanation for accumulated entropy. They who have 'passed' are not erased. All lives still exist.
Though I can tell you a bit about changes you (or your descendants) will see. The primitivism you relish will begin to evaporate. It already is. Each will know the other and nation states will wither. Or rather, Earth will be your nation... and perhaps some other orbs along the way.
Your children shall conquer the stars. Pity you were born so soon. Yet the atoms of your body will be there when it happens and they will cheer.
Renate knows. I've seen the birth of Sumer and polities far 'older.' Mud and stone and wood were always there. And even children build temples out of blocks. They always have. Legos are not new. There are records of those days. But you will not find them, for the seas have swallowed them up. And calamari swim through tombstones in the depths.
It's hot. Summer hastens decay. Tiny piercing mouth-parts spread disease. But that's their job. And vampires do the same. I take lives at will. No moral vows for me. I am far too practical for that and was already old and set in my ways when organized morality appeared.
But I lie. The being you call Jonathon thinks me a saint. And since we are but one or two links apart on the great eternal chain, I permit him to have his illusions.
Now I rise from the waves and walk toward the shore. Tiny phosphorescent lifeforms say hello. There are houses near the coast and salty, blood-filled people within. They sleep, as I creep close, scratching at window screens and whispering through doors.
And the black beetles run and dance. They say - Renate comes....
Night birds sing my name.....
Flowers kiss my feet....
And even though a human soon will die...
the atoms of their body will go on.....
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for more peeks into our world click on~>EL MUNDO VAMPIRIDO ... please leave a COMMENT. please SUBSCRIBE. Share with your friends and visit us on Twitter at Twitter.com/wilkravitz ..... thank you...
Must rest. Even disembodied spirits need to re-charge every once in a while. Flickering in and out like a weak cable signal. So here's a trio of varied, talented and well known people to fill the breach. Plus Andrew's got some real good paranormal serial fiction too.
1) see Andrew Harding's fiction ( a PG or PG-13 taste of what's in his books) at ~~>http://AHardingBooks.com .. attractive, near-vampire cops fight perverse killers and get kinky in their spare time... plus they're real rich too... Google ~> THE HYBRID SERIES by Andrew Harding for more.
2) Erin Morgenstern, author of THE NIGHT CIRCUS orchestrates a magical blog filled with writerly insights and whimsy from her eccentrically cozy garret at ~> erinmorgenstern.com ... Perfect place to visit for a warm, little night time chat...
3) Joe Hill, author of just released supernatural thriller NOS4A2 (nos-for- a-tu...you know, that vampire word... only this isn't that, but something innovative and different) can be reached at ~>joehillfiction.com ... He's penned many other worthy tomes too. He wrote the story for Graphic Novel series LOCKE & KEY... re-defines the genre.
4) and, as always, if you'd care to look through my 700,000 word universe, highlighting vampires, settlers on Mars, poor little children on the icy streets of Old Prague, hard scrabble romance under the 'el' tracks and a whole lot more (think of them like movie treatments), Google ... Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... THE LITTLE MATCH BOY by Billy Kravitz... EL RANCHO TEXACO by Billy Kravitz... or BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz... can also click on ~>browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ...
Thank you. that's it for now. must sleep. starting to break out in hives. please grace us with a COMMENT or tweet YOUR LINKS to me at twitter.com/wilkravitz ... and I'll re-tweet them forthwith. (just give me a day or so). and now we swim off to dreamland ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>
I am not knowing why I even communicate with you. Many have seen me pass through this nuanced account. But I never trade words carelessly. Those who devour what comes forth from these magic triptychs care not for the truth. They tingle for copulatory acts, blood drenched dismemberment and cents-off coupons.
Renate knows. She can hear the worms of ignorance feast on your brains. Well... not all. Renate recognizes the vibrations of certain spirits. Those friends in the Tin Isles and various large population centers scattered about the land mass called North Americky, plus the duskward edge of what you call 'The Old World.'
Forty thousand years of consciousness. I saw the ice sheets melt and witnessed other facets of humanity, or near humanity, waste away and die. Scraps still remain... but only scraps.
And I have no recollection of my own transformation. I can't even tell you who did it..... A feeding.... I saw a feeding.... Wandering 'vampires' perhaps two or three, devoured a human play thing... a mutilated one. The creature had no legs and no arms. It's crotch parts were excised as if by sharpened ice-cream scooper. And protruding facial appendages.... nose... lips... ears... were missing too. That is how we dealt with strangers, for no good came from the unknown.... In a sense, each small band was it's own 'humanity.' All others were but thieves.
Do you know when living spirits are thrown into volcanoes they do not scream. The shock is too great, as red hot, viscous rock envelopes every part of their being. And even when they slip beneath the surface life remains. A brain is a wonderful thing and takes so long to die.
Why do I tell you this? No, really, why? I am hoping there are brain-readers among you.... 'head shrinkers' I think you call them. For I do not know.
But until the others, the ones you know best, regain their voices I will tell you things.....
What it is like to glide through the clouds as monstrous waves crush people like chalk, or to walk across the surface of the sun....
My spirit has done many things..... And I have eaten many souls.
Right now I sit beneath the sea, down in the blackest depths, watching crab-things play amidst thermal vents. 'Devil's Chimneys' I call them... calliope reeds from hell.
I close my eyes and taste their sulfurous breath.
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for more click on ~> SECRETS OF THE VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ... please leave a COMMENT and tell others. thank you...
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