MEANWHILE BACK AT THE ANTI-ENCHANTMENT BUREAU .... 11/4/13

I don't know how the drivers do it. I think they have a way to triangulate positions. Tomas has a chip too. I forgot about that. He forgot about it too. A lot of vampires have chips. Some luddites among them know nothing of technology, preferring to wallow in the primitive realities of their past. They keep to the shadows, make bug eyes at buxom damsels and sleep in specially made 'dead boxes.' Like Dracula. That's what they are. Not the new one they got on TV. He's just a rehash of our own (and presently missing) dashing Muscovite-oligarch- vampire known as Grigori Usipov. Regular readers know that. No, I'm talking about the real Dracula... the one Bram Stoker wrote about. And let me tell you something else (a digression, but bear with me). The first draft of that 'novel' was penned here in Philadelphia while the esteemed author played house guest to the prominent Rosenbach family. Their vast, Center City, townhouse mansion has since become a rarefied shrine... a museum... brimming with unusual treasures and quasi-miraculous what-nots. You can see the hand written 'fictional' account there, within the pages of a large, pale green, late Victorian ledger.  Well, researchers can see it. They have a room for such things... a small space, with hardwood floors, Persian carpets, heavy draperies, second empire moldings and a large, polished library table. Oh, did I mention the fine, old, tall clock? Tick, tick, tick it goes. And the soft, rich chimes are so mellow. Some say the book is cursed. Some refuse to touch it. Others are less fearful. Some of them are dead. For what appears there upon those pages is not the same as what was published. Secrets flicker there. And our own Tomas keeps even more within the vellum pages of his also hand written (though not by him) copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo. We've referenced that tome from time to time, but best to leave it alone, for the magic within (if magic is the right term for it) details more than just life-eaters.. Indeed, the vampires we speak of may be but one manifestation, one facet of 'the dark jewel.'

Whew! Some digression, eh?

The car arrived. More like a luxury S.U.V., if you will and the the two young filmmakers, plus their vampire savior got in. The driver, a well trained functionary of 'the bureau' said not a word, as he ferried them out of the woods and down a highway into the city. How it sparkled at night. Dense, thickets of towers all alight, as charwomen and char-men too, I suppose, moved about the august offices preparing them for a bright, new day. Dulcet jazz tones filled the cab all the way down the great length of Market Street, 'crossed the Schuylkill (school-kill) River and on into midtown, passed the huge, illuminated, wedding cake spouse (the city hall and not a copy, for both were built 'round the same time) of the Hotel de Ville in Paris. They cruised by the convention center and the nineteenth century cavern that is The Reading Terminal Market Place and larder to the knowing gourmands of this place. Last comes the Historic Heart, America's Vatican, or The Tower of London, if you will. What splendid ghosts 'live' there. Then the N.C.D. (night club district) where twenty-somethings overpay for table service and well heeled tourists dine in establishments known to Jefferson. 

In case you're wondering, wilkravitz the one they call Billy narrates tonight. Usually I just type, but our disembodied helpers are somewhere else, so I do double duty. Tomas, the night-folk, 'star' of our tale, loves his adopted city, thus the travel log, in case you wanted to know. 

Doctor Franklin's underground compound lies at the edge of the city, just passed the tight little red brick streets of South Philadelphia, home to cheese steaks, trattoria and the immortal Ninth Street Market where Rocky trained... The hidden resource is accessed via nondescript tunnels scattered about The Navy Yard. They pulled into a clean, low-lit parking garage and got out. Two agents, rather Men In Black and mysterious, led them through a thick, metal door and into the storied corridors. After a time they heard, or rather felt a sonorous hum, like music from talented whales, or well schooled 'spheres.' A portal opened and they were there... the hall of The Great Armonica, as Doctor Franklin (Benjamin Franklin, if you will) hung naked and suspended within a spider web of magnetic 'music,' as his greatest invention bathed his aged, though well preserved body in carefully regulated pulses of restorative energy. 

He spotted Tomas and waved. The vampire waved back. Then he and the two young filmmakers sat down at a table and read magazines ( I think a couple old Crate and Barrel catalogs... maybe a Readers' Digest... a People) til their unusual host was through..

The newly minted filmmakers, needless to say, were thoroughly impressed.

Next time I'll tell you more...

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link~> SNOOP AROUND. WE ONLY PRETEND IT'S FICTION ... Twitter~>@wilkravitz ... please leave a COMMENT and a link so I can reciprocate. thank you.   

THE WORLD WE SEE and THE WORLD THAT IS.... a vampire talks... 11/3/13

Tomas yelled - Son of a bitch! I must get involved in this crap? You, up in the tree, GET DOWN HERE!..... And the other kid who was still up there goes - No, please. Please, no. I'm comin'. I'm comin'. I can't go no faster. I'm carryin' something...... The first kid, already down on the ground and trying to make points goes - He means the camera..... Tomas shoots him a look. He knows. 

Tomas stands under the struggling second kid and goes - You stupid bastard, you! Drop the camera!..... The second kid hesitates. Tomas yells - DROP IT!..... Kid whines - I don't want it to break. It ain't ours. We borrowed it...... Tomas. growing ever more impatient, goes - Do you think that I, with my one thousand years of preternatural existence and coordination like you cannot imagine will fail to catch it!?....
Second kid whines some more, but finally lets go..... The large, professional grade video camera falls.... And Tomas is right under it. He could easily catch it. But at the last instant he side steps and lets it bounce on a rock. Parts fly everywhere. The camera is digitally dead...... The first kid, huddled on the ground winces. The second kid stops where he is and goes - Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God..... Then he starts crying. We can hear him. It's pathetic...... Tomas' unseen ghost companion whispers - Kill 'em. Kill 'em. Kill 'em good.... But our vampire hero shakes him off like a mosquito and the kids never heard him at all. 

First kid (with tears streaming down his face) goes - You're gonna kill us, aren't you?..... Tomas goes - No, I said I would not kill you and I won't..... Kid still in the tree goes - You lied about the camera. You lied about that!... And they both cry louder...... The unseen ghost companion starts giggling. Tomas bats him away like a troublesome fly... snaps a kink in his neck, looks at the shattered camera and goes - I just saved your lives. Do they still have brown, shiny ribbon in these things?..... Kid in the tree goes - What?... Kid on ground goes - He means tape, video tape.... Kid in tree goes - What? No! no tape..... Tomas goes - Then how do you record it?..... The kid on the ground hesitantly raises his eyes and says - We don't record it. We stream it live..... Tomas goes - What does that mean?..... Kid in the tree goes - You don't want to know..... Then he ads - Is the mafia gonna kill us?.... Tomas goes - What do you think?.... Then he mumbles something in classical Castilian, or perhaps old Vahmperigo (vampire Romance dialect) ... Second kid quietly reaches the ground and huddles next to his buddy..... Tomas thinks for a moment and says - Yo, Coen Brothers, one of you got a cell phone?.... Second kid sniffs and goes - H-how you know about th-them?... Tomas goes - I live in Center City, in Society Hill, not far from Ritz Movies. You know it? ... The two artistes silently nod.... Tomas goes - So don't ask. Now, who got the phone?.... First kid pulls one out. Tomas gestures. He hands it over. Tomas taps out the number for Doctor Franklin's vast, secret, underground complex beneath the Philadelphia Navy Yard.... Second kid goes - W-who you callin'? Not the mafia? Not them?.... Tomas goes - Yeah, every vampire knows that number by heart. You stupid bastards you..... First kid goes - Then who are you calling?..... The vampire goes - A very esteemed alchemist, I mean 'scientist' and philosopher, Doctor Benjamin Franklin. Ever heard of him?.... Second kid goes - You mean the fat, old colonial guy who diddled all them French women?.... Tomas goes - The same. And he is not a life-eater..... Second kid goes - A what?..... Tomas spits back - A vampire! A vampire! Do I have to speak 'Twilight' talk to you!?... And he mumbles some more old Latin-type phrases, before the old, founding father reprobate answers. They trade a sentence or two. Tomas hangs up, hands back the phone and sits down on the ground with his charges.... A couple dozen heart beats go by. Nobody says anything til the second kid whispers - What are we doing?..... First kid shrugs. Tomas goes - Waiting for a ride..... More silence... Then the trim, Iberian vampirino adds - You think you know the world, but you don't. For the world you see is not the world that is....

And they sit there in the chill, misty woodland night, listening to the slow rhythm of late season crickets...

Second kid goes - I'm cold..... Tomas says - Go sit in the car. (the mafia guy's big, black Chrysler still rests there a few feet away). The kid does..... Tomas sighs.... First kid sighs too, as we leave them there and pull back into the trees... 

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YOUNG MORTAL SPIES WITH PRYING EYES... Tomas meets a stalker 11/2/13

The ghost 'drowned' in molten lead wouldn't tell his name and made jokes about it. Certain fragments of popular culture penetrated his solitude over the centuries. I don't know. Maybe he picks up radio waves. When Tomas asked him, he'd say 'Howdy Doody,' or 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' or 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers.' Last one must be a nineteenth century reference. Sounds 'Flora Dora Girl' and all that.  So Tomas gave him one. A name, I mean. Called him 'Parrot,' 'cause his spiritual presence seemed to hover right by our vampiric hero's left ear. But the ghost what got dunked in molten lead liked Gertie's Dirty Bloomers best. Ghosts is like that.

And in that way they wandered through the woods, parks and forests of Southeastern Pennsylvania, sleeping in old, abandoned root cellars. As you know, vampires, especially the traveling sort positively dote on root cellars and there are many long forgotten ones out there. Tomas would curl up in a deep dark corner and the ghost would tell him stories. Night-folk love old tales. The ghost crooned ancient, Scots drinking songs and Breton madrigals, which were already quite passe by his time. Tomas never stopped him. He liked the company and didn't care one bit. In fact the only time 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers' was ever quiet was when Tomas 'culled' someone. Then he'd just watch and look and wait. Death was a major event to the tortured spirit and he always treated it reverently.  Loved that moment where the teeth break the skin. Claimed he 'heard' it. The 'cool' blue fire part at the end when the body goes bye-bye unnerved him a bit. I suppose it reminded him of his death, the heat and all... the fires... Look, they call the blue flames 'cool' or 'cold' because nothing else around them ever burns. But they're still fire. It's still flame. Make no mistake about that. 

One night they found a hit man... a real murder for hire, mafia style hit man. You know they love dumping people in the woods. The amoral, satanic 'gentleman' smoked a cigar behind the wheel of his car. A big, black Chrysler, I think it was. The slaughtered party, now rendered into seven or eight, easy transportable plastic wrapped parcels (not from a roll..not like you'd use to seal a salad bowl.. big, thick, garbage bags, I mean) waited in the trunk. I don't know where they were gonna bury him. Who cares? .. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers tried talking to him. The one in the trunk, I mean. But he only spoke Korean and he was scared and still in shock from being diced up and all. You know, them little chain saws they sell for like suburban home owners come in handy for jobs like that. Yeah, you can use 'em for firewood. But they ain't all sold for firewood. Lemme tell you that. Look, you think the guy at Sears don't know?! 

Tomas goes over to the big, black Chrysler, yanks open the door and goes - Yo, schmuck face, get the hell out a the car!... You know he can talk that way when he has to 'cause a livin' in the city and all. Mafia guy goes - Who the hell are you, you 'P.R.' (Puerto Rican) son of a bitch. 'Cause like he can hear some a the Spanish and all. You know sometimes Tomas still sounds that way. They used to joke in the townhouse. Used to say - Lucy, I'm home... But they were family, so he didn't care.... Grabs the mafia guy. Drags him out. Slams him against the car and goes - Lemme tell you who I am.... Then he gives him the 'vampire grin' right then and there. Guy almost shits himself. Fumbles for his gun. Yeah, lot a good that's gonna do him. Two heartbeats later, Tomas chokes the guy, turns him around and chokes him some more. Bastid starts kickin' his feet and coughin' and sputterin'. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers likes seein' other guys get tortured, so he don't say nothin'. Then we get the big finale. Whoa! Do we ever.  Vampire tilts back his head, slams it down, drives the fangs right through the skull and draws out the blood directly from the brain. Guy's eyes go all jerky-like. Starts fartin'. Starts shitin'.  But he's mostly dead. Few heartbeats more and he's all dead. Tomas drops him, catches his breath (not that he needs the oxygen, but they still inhale and exhale, you know) and belches like grandpop at a barbecue. Then he kicks the body away from the car, slumps in the driver's seat and watches it burn. When it's over he looks up in the trees. Most a the leaves is down, but not all, and says - You can come down now..... Kid's voice goes - I don't wanna..... Tomas goes - Why?.... Kid's voice goes - 'Cause I'm scared.... Tomas goes - What for?... Kid goes - 'Cause I'm scared you're gonna get me..... Tomas goes - I'm not gonna get you. Are you a low-life?... Kid goes - N-no.... Tomas goes - Well, I'm not gonna get you...... But nothing.... Then he goes WHOOSH and sublimates up through the air, hovering maybe three feet in front a the kid and goes - I'd get you now, if I was gonna get you. But I'm not gonna get you, so get down.... Kid's really shaken, but he makes it down. Young, maybe like a year or two less than Tomas when they 'turned' him. Stands there with his hands in his pockets, still shakin' and all. Tomas goes - Take them God damn hands out a your pockets!..... Kid does.... Tomas goes - Now why you here?

Kid tells him.... But the other one, the one that's still up in a tree, the one who masked his scent (somebody must a helped him) is still runnin' the camera...

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link~>700,000 words to look through, if you want 'em ...
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Tomas performs a BLESSING for a GHOST....... 11/1/13

THE RUINED CELLAR OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
GRAY STONE MANOR

The vampire TOMAS sits crouched against a wall conversing with the pathetic GHOST bound to the skeletal remains. A weak, watery moonlight drips in through spidery cracks.

TOMAS - And you never left this place?

GHOST - No.

TOMAS - Why?

GHOST - I can't. I don't know. Don't ask me that. Oblivion 
                 would be better. At least I wouldn't 
                 feel the pain.

TOMAS - (nods) All right. (pause) Why did they do it? 

GHOST - (deafening shriek)

TOMAS - (locks hands over his ears and whispers) Stop it.

GHOST - No one hears. Only you. And who knows? Perhaps
                  I say nothing at all? Maybe you are crazy?

TOMAS - Maybe I am.

GHOST - (whispers) Take me with you.

TOMAS - (leans in and focuses on the empty 'eyes.') And 
                  how would I do that, balance you on my shoulders
                  like the transverse of a cross? You know 
                  that's bound to attract attention, especially on the 
                  bus.

GHOST - Then bury me. But not here. Take me outside. But 
                  bury me. Please.Oh, God, just bury me-bury me-
                  bury me-bury me- bury me. 

TOMAS - But you'll still be there, tied to the bones. You'll 
                  still be there, down in the dirt.

GHOST - How do you know? I don't care. Just do it. 

TOMAS - I can break the chains, or what's left of them. I can                     free you from the rod.

GHOST - You can do that?

TOMAS nods.

GHOST - Tell me. I don't see you. I just feel
                  you. Say it. Tell me.

TOMAS - Yes, I can.

And the GHOST begins to sob.

EXT. nearby moonlit glade. TOMAS smooths the dirt over 
          the fresh grave with his hands. then he jabs the heavy
          rod into the ground as a 'headstone,' and silently
          mouths a prayer. After that he looks around, finds a 
          small rock and gently places it by the makeshift marker.

NOTE - in his faith a small stone left at a grave means 'my 
               God and my Redeemer lives. A Sheltering Rock, 
               when 'ere I fall.'

TOMAS brushes himself off, chooses a path and leaves. we FOCUS on his back as he departs. 

GHOST'S VOICE - Thank you.

TOMAS -  (quietly) Please, no need.
  
Now he has a companion...

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A VAMPIRE TALKS TO OLD BONES IN THE DARK.... 10/31/13

The vampirino known as Tomas looked down at the bones, a full human skeleton, stretched out and bound to an iron rod and grinning like a fool. . He studied the gunmetal metallic sheen gilding each blackened surface and waited for the spirit to gather it's thoughts. Was he frightened? Well, a bit. Even vampires can become unnerved at magic not their own. So he backed against the ruined cellar wall and waited. First he heard a giggle, low and muffled, as if from far away. Then he heard a sigh and the ether grew positively icy. Tomas said a prayer. You know how much he believes. I don't have to tell you that. Something moved in a corner. He could hear the scraping of tiny feet, but it was just a fat,little vole looking for late season maggots. Higher creatures, like dogs or cats, might notice the presence of spirits and such. Little mousy things do not. Maybe they just don't care? Then the vole moved on and the cold, icy silence returned. 

Tomas noticed that the remains were fixed to the rod with iron chains, some about the neck, the waist and the ankles. The wrists, bound in similar fashion, were pulled 'round the back. And the chains themselves were melted into place, apparently the result of unspeakable torture. But no sound rose up from the horrific leavings and he prepared to leave, desirous of a sweeter place to sleep. It was at that point, when the silvery slivers of moonlight slicing into the place through spidery rents in the old, stone walls played across his shifting body that the 'presence' began to speak. 

They put me in the 'soup' - it said in a low and sonorous voice. The vampire wasn't sure if he actually heard the words or felt them with his mind. But he knew that they were real, so he listened.... The thing went on - But the soup was too hot, so I died. Lead it was... molten lead, cooked in an iron pot. a great witches cauldron brought hence from Scotland and once used by the ancient Stewarts somewhere in the vicinity of Holyrood House. Edinburgh was the seat of great crimes and the souls of the tortured still writhe about the Old Town like banshees. But I digress. A well read man, I was and learned in many things.

Tomas, almost afraid to speak, whispered - Why did they do it? ... For he too remembered brutal acts.... And the soul of the learned man went on... Because they could - he said. Some people are like that. I fell afoul of a powerful man. You knew him too, Hebrew, back in the early days of this place. You are Hebrew, are you not? I can feel the resonance of souls and can discern even a Methodist from an Anglican. Tomas, also known as Jonathon said that he was, but with a certain reticence, for he remembered a time when such an affirmation meant martyrdom. But the tortured spirit, desirous of telling its own tale went on... Lead melts at nine hundred degrees. I knew than even before the killed me. Bound to his bar I was. I'm bound to it still. And they raised me up and lowered me in. I screamed. I pleaded... Please, crack my head. Shatter my skull. Please, throttle me before you do this thing. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! I begged. I cried. I whimpered. I peed. They laughed. Said I was trying to cool the broth. And they dropped me down a little more. A whole apparatus they had... A series of chains. And there was some argument as to whether I should go in horizontally, facing downward, or feet first. But after some deliberation ( oh, how I relished those moments) they picked the later course, since it would prolong the pain. Logical to a fault they were. Nine hundred degrees... Twice as hot as an oven. And suspended as I was, maybe six feet above the thick and hellish brew, my toenails began to smolder, like hot glass pressed upon the delicate skin beneath. I begged again, but they ignored me. Eight of them there were. Two to do the job and six to watch. But they wisely stepped back, lest errant gobbets burn them too. 

They say the body falls into shock. They say nerves shut down and those burned alive go numb, pathetic witnesses to their own immolation. They say a lot of things and they are wrong. I lived it all. A thick, heavy searing viscosity,bathed in Satan's own shit I was. And all I could do was tremble. How I trembled. I twisted. I writhed trying to smash my head against the bar. But I was bound too close. One of them joked and said - Oh, smells like roasting pork.... But I couldn't even scream and even the slop in my stomach began to boil...... Then the glassy surface of my eyes began to smoke. I was all alone in hell and didn't deserve to be there...

Now if spirits still had tears, this one would be crying. For that's what Tomas heard. And such a mournful, helpless sound it was. He touched the skull and it stopped. But after a time it went on. And Tomas was scared. Some ghosts hold on tight, binding the unwary like flies caught in a web.... locked in misery and sadness forever... with no way to break free... eternal partners in death...

But take your leave and rest now. I'll tell you more tomorrow...

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Tomas Remembers Ancient Tortures... 10/30/31

One night he found a ruined house, a rather large house, probably a manor of some sort once belonging to an old land grant dynasty. Tomas liked exploring such structures. They reminded him of times past. This one dated from the seventeenth century, to the age of The Lord Protector (William Penn's title) himself. Our vampire friend came over with him, you know. Although he did take pains to hide his unusual condition while on board, some curious members of the crew were still able to learn things.I believe he devoured two or three of them. But they were seamen of the roughest sort and easily replaceable by the press gangs of the day. 

He slept in a large, oaken chest more akin to coffin than luggage, down in the deepest part of the hold, surrounded by cold round stones brought on board to add weight and counteract the inherent instability of the craft. Sometimes an inquisitive sailor slid down to look around. 'Feel around' would be more apt, since they were forbidden candles, lanterns or any type of flame produced illumination. And they'd hear moans coming from the chest. Horrid sounds  taken as the presence of an Earth-bound spirit sealed within. 

But Tomas was just dreaming, as life-eaters often do, reliving a past when torture was a game... a much appreciated entertainment, staged by royals, nobles, or ecclesiastic types for the macabre delight and fearsome edification of the unwashed masses.... Imagine... sealed in a chest not much bigger than a casket. There was no opening and closing of the lid, there couldn't be. It was sealed shut. But that doesn't mean he didn't get out. Tomas' ability to sublimate through various forms of matter was already well developed. In some stories they say the chest was lead, but  it couldn't be, for he wouldn't have been able to pass through that, though solid English oak was something else. 

That's how he dispatched the curious seamen. That's how he ate them, or at least their blood. The first one came down into the dark with an ax, determined to breech his temporary tomb. But with the first strike our vampire broke free, moving through the specially hardened wood as you or I might walk through mist. And in that darkness he grabbed him. But there could be no killing on board, not vampire style anyway. For that would result in the cold, blue flame and although surrounding materials are usually not effected by it, one never knows. Vampires rarely take chances. Then he sublimated again, out through the stout, thick hull (also good English oak) and into the open sea, proceeding through the brine til the ship seemed little more than a toy floating on a silver tinged, nighttime sea. The soon to be victim gasped for air, as they bobbed among the waves. He'd yell. He cursed and he died out there in the frigid water, as a nosferatu (they all knew that word) pierced his throat and swallowed up his blood. Did the blue flame still happen? Yes, it always does. Every drained husk ignites and burns away. Some on board may have seen a phosphorescence out there in the dark. But maybe not. When it was done Tomas moved back, passing through the hull and into his box. 

But what did Tomas find in that old, stone ruin, mentioned up above? What fearsome remnant lingered there hidden and forgotten in the deepest cellar? He found bones and they were glazed in a dull, metallic skin.... a 'banana man' plunged in molten lead, hotter than the surface of Venus, just like London costermongers did with that new, yellow delicacy from the tropics, only they used molten chocolate, an equally novel delicacy, instead.

And the bones began to speak...

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12 Years A Slave Theatrical Trailer ... BAYLAH, of The Vampire Wonderland, requests you to experience this film

One whose life is detailed in our ongoing narrative recommends you see this film. The Lady Baylah suffered a similar fate... and after two hundred and fifty years she still remembers. Ask one of our elferinos or elferinas what it was like to be welded alive into a leaden cask and thrown into the sea. Night-folk suffer many pains. The constraints of our primitive culture compel us to pretend they're fiction, yet they are very real. The events portrayed in this film are real too and positively Biblical in their proportions. 

Tomas, also known as Jonathon, is traveling now, a night-folk Johnny Appleseed. We detailed his reality last night and will do so again. But watch the trailer down below and think what it was like back in a time when people were possessions and lives destroyed like pawns.

Who do you identify with? How much could you take? What would you have done? This time is not so far away. The last known person born a slave died fifty years ago. 

Please share your views and COMMENTS. As always, more episodes and postings can be accessed via this link ~> browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ... Join me on twitter at ~> @wilkravitz ... thank you for your time.