Amazing Voice Sings Nessun Dorma On X-Factor..NESSUN DORMA means 'no one is sleeping' and is an unofficial VAMPIRE ANTHEM..plus Tomas tells the college kids his plans.. 12/29/13

They sat there for a while just looking at the fire. No other lights were on. Tomas likes it that way. The skinny kid said - You got any chips or peanuts?... But no one answered.  Edith brought in another bottle, some more of that hard cider. This was 'hard cider week.' You know how the vampires latch onto things. Sturdy kid says - Who's she? Your mother?..... Skinny kid gets a fit of laughing. Tomas just gives him a look. Skinny kid clears his throat and stops.

Tomas says - Am I the first, shall we say 'special' being you've ever come across? ..... Sturdy kid says - No, Eric from Pittsburgh can light his farts. does that count?.... This time Tomas laughs and says - No, that doesn't count.  I just thought some of your friends might like to meet me..... Sturdy kid goes - Are, are you gonna kill them?..... Tomas quietly says - No.... Sturdy kid says - I didn't mean that 'who's she? your mother' crap. Just nervous. You know..... Tomas nods. Then he goes - Do they believe in vampires? Your friends, I mean. The young people at the university...... Skinny kid looks at his buddy. Buddy goes - They believe in aliens. They believe like in chupacabras and stuff. They believe in Bigfoot. I don't know. Guys don't believe in vampires. Chicks do. I don't know...... Tomas says - Well what do you think?...... Skinny kid, who don't talk much goes - I think we're drunk..... Sturdy kid says - Look, dude, maybe you're like a hypnotist. What the f*ck do I know?

With that Tomas leaps from his chair, grabs the Sturdy kid's hand, pulls it toward his mouth and chomps off a pinky finger.... Kid goes - aaaggghhh! SHIT!!! F*CK!!!.... Skinny kid stares, slack jawed and wide eyed....... Then our vampire pulls the digit out of his mouth, bites his tongue, draws blood, licks the oozing end, grabs the kid's hand (from where he held it cradled tight against his chest) and jams that pasty, bloodless sucker back where it came from....... And it 'sticks.' And it's positioned right...... Sturdy kid goes - It burns! It burns! It burns!..... Tomas sucks his own (now blood covered) finger, pulls it out and slowly wipes the dripping tip over the rapidly healing wound..... Kid calms down. Stops wheezing. Studies his mutilated hand.... only now it's not mutilated anymore..... Tomas goes - Edith!..... The witchy-woman friend and housekeeper bustles in from the kitchen, turns on a lamp and offers the kid a plastic canister of baby-wipes. He takes one and gingerly cleans the wound... but there IS no wound. He flexes his fingers, grins, nods and laughs... All is well..... Skinny kid goes - Yo, dude, you got blood stains on your crotch....... Sturdy kid kicks him and goes - Shut up!

Tomas (standing by the fire) says - Please excuse my thoughtless act of wild indiscretion, but I needed your attention. So let me ask you once again. Do YOU believe in vampires? ..... The Sturdy kid nods....... Tomas gestures toward the other one and goes - What about 'Silent Bob?' ..... Skinny kid nods too....... Tomas says - Now I want to meet some of your friends. You think you could arrange it?

More nodding.....

Tomas smiles......

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The Vampire Known as Tomas Shares Some Other Strange Experiences... 12/28/13

Don't ask me who I killed. Don't ever do that. It doesn't concern you, so don't. You're here because things are 'slow' this time of year. The long, seemingly endless nights calm us down. The cold has something to do with that too. Room for everyone and time enough for everything.  No one feels constrained. So unlike the manic nights of summer. Do you know in June and July there's just eight hours of true darkness. And solitary mortals are hard to come by. They travel in packs then, screaming on street corners for the boys to come and catch them. Well sometimes they have to contend with me. And stop staring that way. You know I don't kill indiscriminately. My food deserves to be cooked. 

And then Tomas shut up, studying the hefty tumbler in his hand. He poured in the hard cider and drank it down before offering some to his guests. Students, I think they were. Film students fro Penn. He met them at a showing... some new gallery on North Second Street. They come for the cheese mostly. You know how students are. The wine too, but cheese can make a meal.

Did they know he was a vampire? No. One thought he was the eldest Jonas brother, if you want to know the truth. Creative types always seek 'contacts.' Relationship is everything in the arts. So they chatted him up and began to ask questions. But when it became obvious he had no idea who Scooter Braun was that Jonas pedigree flew out the window. And when the last of the Colby-Jack was gone they left. Ersatz Dali by way of Grant Wood wasn't cutting it. 

Tomas followed them, eager to get away from these art world 'looky-loos.' Place smelled from new, wool sweaters, probably Christmas presents and semi-controlled mice. Amateur rodent hunters can only do so much. But he fell in behind them, making his way along the rough, cracked sidewalks of Old City (an 'entry-level' smart district, north of Society Hill). After a bit they ducked into a pretentious men's clothing store. Three hundred dollar jeans and all that. Bamboo hardwood floors. Although bamboo isn't really a hardwood, but that's what they say. The skinny one tried to palm a bill fold, not from someone's pocket (they did have standards after all) a new one for sale on a polished, wood table. Six hundred and seventy dollars, in case you're interested The sturdy one kept watch. Couldn't steal like this from the big stores. Too many safeguards for that. Tiny, little cameras all over the place. Underpaid, judgmental, wage slaves. Little pin lights highlighting perfectly folded trousers. Who buys dress pants like that anymore? Where would they wear them? Well, apparently some people knew where. But that's another story. One of the owners saw the whole thing and moved in for the kill. Obviously loves moments like this. Crushing other people's lives makes up for so much. And the kid never saw it coming. 

Excuse me. What the hell do you think you're doing!? - barked the shopkeeper. And the kid almost died. The place wasn't that crowded, but a couple people did turn around. Before things could escalate, Tomas stepped up, plutonium card, or whatever they call it, in hand, flashed in before the partner and said - No, no, no, he's just passing it over to me. I want to buy it. Christmas present for myself actually.... Just like that. A switch was thrown and the owner beamed. Five minutes later the sale was made and the three of them were out on the street. Skinny kid sniffs and goes - Yo, thanks, dude. Why'd you do it?..... Sturdy kid goes - Yeah, why'd you do it?.... Tomas says - I did it 'cause I hate that guy.... Sturdy kid goes - You spent about seven hundred and thirty f*ckin' dollars, including tax, in that guy's God damned store because you hate him? Yo, dude, what do you do?..... Tomas thought for a moment, considered lying. When pressed, he usually says - I'm an investor... But these were college kids. Nothing shocks them. So he did it. He told them. He goes - I'm in vampirism. Self-employed. How do you do.... They trade names and shake hands. Sturdy kid (the talker) goes - Vampirism? What, there's a lot a money in that?..... And Tomas goes - Oh, if you only knew. Care for a drink?... But before they could even answer he hailed a cab and fifteen heartbeats later they were on their way.

He tells 'em a real good story about an old torture involving ferrets, or polecats or something and guys wearing white silk, pajama-like suits with tight necks, wrists and ankles. No underwear, or any protective garment next to the skin. Ain't allowed to do that. And it's gotta be white, 'cause white shows the blood. Stuff a couple a them hungry, sharp-toothed weasel things down the front a the pants. Button everything up real snug and tight and let her rip. First one to scream gets baked alive. And everybody watches, as they tremble, sweat and bleed.

Sturdy kid says - Did you just hear about that, or actually see it?..... Tomas goes - Saw it. Made a lot of money on it too..... How? - said the skinny kid.... Sturdy one goes - Jesus Christ! They bet! They bet on it. Can't you figure it out?!...... Tomas goes - Hey, I ain't proud.

And then he tells them more.....

Now Edith put a couple drops of Tomas' blood in their drinks. She's got a little dropper from some old bottle of over-the-counter earache medicine. That's what she uses. It works. Who needs 'fancy?'

But that I'll tell you tomorrow night...

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The Vampire, Tomas, Speaks Directly To You..... 12/26/13

When bad things happen it's foolish to wish they had not. Better to face the new reality and bend it to your will. It took me time to learn that. During the early years of my transformation I wandered aimlessly. Oh, I was aware of my surroundings. I knew where I was. But things transpired in and of themselves. I was but a passenger... not even an onlooker... just a passenger... barely able to recognize my own form in a mirror. Though there were few of them, back then. The era of my second birth was cold and coarse and hard. 

I established a war chest in short order, dispatching self-proud feudal lords and confiscating baubles and gold. Not many diamonds back then. For the most part, they didn't appear in 'Christendom' til returning Crusaders brought them back from the Levant. And even there they were not native, but the fruit of long established trade with Hind (what you call 'India'). My stash included rubies, emeralds, opals, pearls and gold. Silver too, but mostly gold. 

This was before I could easily sublimate through walls and other barriers. But I did have 'vampire eyes' from the beginning and to me, anyway, beguiling bewildered mortals was natural and automatic. I adopted the dress of a Christian scholar... a noble son traveling between Catalonia or Provence and the university-like academies of La Serenissima (Venice). Not too difficult for a rather aristocratic Rite-Of-Spain (Sephardic) Hebrew, like myself. Please know that we did not dress any different than others of our class. And I already knew assorted chunks of Greek and Latin in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic, plus the local vernaculars of Northern Spain. I had a Hebrew Bible and a copy of the Trinitarian Holy Books. I think there was a Trinitarian prayer book too. During the dark months of the year I even attended vespers. Not on a daily basis, but often enough in various locales to make my presence known. 'Tomas de Macabea'... They knew my name. I traveled with at least three men-at-arms. The term 'familiar' was unknown to me then, but that is what they were, subverted by tiny droplets of my magical blood. I hid caches of valuables off in the woods in places even outlaws avoided, near haunted springs, or mysterious caverns. Were they haunted? Occasionally. Though what am I but a ghost still dressed in flesh?

Please know that I could, at times, when frightened, manage to sublimate through barriers and walls. But I could not pass through  air. I could not fly. Travel was difficult, limited to the distance a horse could traverse by night. Were there outlaws abroad then? Of course. We were waylaid many times, but I fed on them, turning some into meals and others into servants.

Then, one night while passing through new environs, a thickly wooded track near the sea, I dozed at the reins and tumbled off a cliff. In a heartbeat, the poor horse went one way and I another, streaking into the heavens like an arrow. Thus did I acquire the power of flight. Not true flight. Not what the elferinos and elferinas do, but something very much like it. I did not float on the air, but climbed through it, one molecule at a time, though in a very rapid fashion. And my life, or what I called life, was forever changed.

In the space of a few hours I passed between polities and heard new songs, each in a different tongue. One night Genoa, another Marseilles, Some nights spent among the nobles of Barcelona, or the citrus groves of Aragon. And I picked up phrases from each place, as did other night-folk. We conversed. We wrote things down and a new language appeared... a Latin tongue binding the northwestern Mediterranean world from Rome to Cadiz. 'Vahmperigo' we called it... 'in the manner of the vampires.' According to the accent it might sound like Spanish, or Catalan, or French, or Italian, or a melange of all four. Some higher Catholic clergy knew it too. Captured vampires made rich trophies. And many a prelate kept one in a leaden, cellar crypt.. For lead confounds us and we cannot sublimate through it. 

Now we've traveled this road before. But many of you are new and I thought that you should know.

What did I wear? I can hear you thinking. You want to know how I looked, so I'll tell you. Next to my body came a cloth, passing o're my crotch and held in place  by a braided, linen cord. Over that went a light, long-sleeved, unbleached tunic that fell almost to the knee. Tightly knit, thigh-high stockings, held up by buttoned garters and fine, pointy-toed, leather bootkins clothed my legs and feet. There was an outer garment, another tunic fashioned from a more colorful cloth of more substance, bound 'round the waist by a sash. My cloaks had hoods. I wore soft, leather gauntlets and sometimes during chilly months, woolen scarves and thick, knit tunics worn inside, toward the skin. My hair was long and wavy, in the Mediterranean fashion, though some knights, in anticipation of The Crusades had begun to crop theirs close to the skull. I had knit hats too, essentially the same as what boys still wear now.

Besides my mount and lesser breeds for the men-at-arms, we had two pack animals. Asses they were.... 

And my 'vampire eyes' always got me a snug, dark place to sleep.

Now that's it. Good night. It's time for me to kill ...

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SOMETIMES VAMPIRES GET TALKATIVE .. the wee hours of Christmas...... 12/25/13

Sometimes when they feel threatened vampires retreat. They stay close to home, peering through the draperies and sipping fine distillations by the fire. Tomas is no different. And when he stays home, they all do. Sarah watched a cooking show about recipes she'll never make. Conrad and Leo gambled on line, playing hand after hand of joker-poker. A 'familiar' set it all up for them. But the market's been good and the night-folk have plenty. So a thousand dollars every fortnight or so isn't too bad.  Besides, the 'boys' really enjoy it. Don't ask me where the elferinos and elferinas are. They're so quiet and discrete. Sarah thinks they look like Kate Moss, but with ever so slightly pointier ears. The males not so Kate Mossy.... maybe like Sebastian Bach. God knows where they are.

Edith made a big pot of pasta. Rigatoni, I think. She tosses it with some kind of soft, crumbly cheese and a little bit of cream. Then she chills it. It's good. She eats it. I eat it. Them four Kate Moss' will eat it too. Look, when I say 'eat' I mean taste. They're vampires, after all. They throw it up, five minutes later (hopefully in the little powder room down the hall) and then, soon after, taste a little more. You know how the Romans were with their tricliniums (dining rooms) and vomitoriums? Well, vampires are a lot like classical Romans too. 

They like the starchy aroma. The vampires, I mean. But only the younger, 'pubescent' ones actually taste the stuff. The night-gift settles differently on them. They can do things like that. And I know Tomas envies the way they fly. You see, he 'sublimates' through the air. Moves through the actual molecules like a knife through butter. Looks like he disappears and reappears someplace else. Sometimes you see a streak, but not always. Elferinos and elferinas, on the other hand, truly fly. They float on the air and dance through it like bubbles in champagne. And they're vain about it too. Believe me. They know how cool it looks.

Tomas calls me over. He wants to talk. I sit in one of the club chairs. It's warm. The lights are low and I love the way the apple wood fire smells. Edith watches a midnight mass in the kitchen. It's Christmas Eve in the old, red brick warrens of Philadelphia.

I met Charles Dickens, you know. Went with him when he toured Eastern state Penitentiary - he says. Called it a 'strange menagerie.' They let him peek inside the cells. More an assemblage of hopeless dungeons they were.  That's where the expression 'lock the door and throw away the key' came from. He didn't know I was a vampire. He didn't even know I was a Jew. You know how he wrote 'Fagin'? I didn't want to get into all that. Some mortals love their hatreds more than they love life.... It defines them. They were crazy, you know. The penitents, I mean. Locked away in dark, tiny cells all alone. They didn't have open bars. They had doors... stout, heavy, black, iron doors...... Then he just stopped passed me the bottle. Grey Goose. Always Grey Goose. I think a connection with the state liquor stores sends it over to him. Edith bustled in from the kitchen. Brought me a little glass. You know she's a witchy-woman.  Telepathy's like the first thing they teach 'em.

I think he feels locked in too. Edith says he wanted to be a saint. When he was mortal, I mean. Used to read books about it. 'Into every generation of men thirty six blameless souls are given.'..... And those old, devout, Spanish Jewish families really believed that. 

I'll tell you what he's gonna do. It's still dark for a few hours. He has time. He'll get up, put on his coat and his gloves and his scarf and all. Got this wool hat he pulls down too. Then he'll stuff his pockets with silver dollars...real silver dollars. Go out. Walk the streets and give them to homeless people. That's his 'thing.' He does it for almost every holiday. Then he'll go sit on a bench in Washington Square Park, talk to the ghosts for a few minutes  and come home.

I feel bad for Tomas. I really do.

You know, Charles Dickens had a pet raven named Grip. Been mostly dead for a hundred and sixty years. Main Library in Center City's got it on display... all stuffed and mounted and all. Sits in the rare book room. Still looks like it wants a peck your eyes out. Apparently, death don't mellow ravens. 

This is Billy. I'm tired. I gotta go to sleep. 

May the Season of Miracles be magical for you and yours.
That's all I got to tell you tonight. I don't make it up. I just write what happens.

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THE VAMPIRES CONTEMPLATE POWER AND RELATE GRUESOME EXPERIENCES.... 12/24/13

The TV was on. Hoda and Kathy-Lee, a late night re-broadcast, but they didn't pay any attention. Sometimes Edith watches in the morning when the vampires are sleeping, or reading, or mushing up with each other, or whatever they do during the day. But ever since that 'Kathy' one named her dog 'Bambino' she don't like it so much. not that there's anything wrong with the word 'bambino' or the nice, little dog, but it's just like a misstep. It doesn't 'go.' It doesn't sound real. 

They sat around the big, granite thing in the middle. Conrad says it's a 'breakfast' bar. Tomas goes - un huh... and gives him a look. Leo studies a Victoria's Secret catalog. He asks - If a witch, like  sewed , chopped-off, big swan wings on a real fashion model and did magic so there wasn't any infection or anything, do you think it would work?... They don't answer him. He always says shit like that. They never answer him. Baylah's not there. She went back down the shore for The Holidays with her rich boyfriend. 

Look, they're all in denial. Last night really rattled them. Tomas goes. He's seen it before. So has Sarah. The elferinos and elferinas probably too. But night-folk aren't even sure why they're here. Yeah, they talk. I know.  They're 'demi-angelic,' or an alien force did it, or humanity has 'castes' like an ant hill and it's just their job. Yet the truth is they don't know. And when confronted by even greater 'magic,' or 'power,' or whatever you want to call it they get scared. Look how quiet they were when they went to London last year... to that Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn house. Remember that? (google Vampirewonderland Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn if you don't). Christ! Friggin' Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome was walkin' around, in a suit yet. 

No, they're in denial. Watch, you'll see. He'll get real religious. Tomas, I mean. He'll go in that little room. The 'chapel' he calls it. I think it was a walk-in closet or storage room originally. But now it's a 'chapel.' They don't even look at me. I'm just sitting here at the desk typing it all up. It's me. It's 'Billy.' But you knew that. You know my 'voice.'

Quiet, shhh, he's telling a story. If I make any mistakes typing this up, don't blame me. You can still read it. It ain't gonna ruin it. Please. I can't talk. I gotta pay attention......

Tomas, also known as Jonathon says - We were in a tower, or a castle, in Switzerland, or France. And he wasn't a vampire. I don't know what he was. But he never spoke. Never said a word. Nothing. Yet I heard him in my mind. I didn't just know the words. I heard them. And sometimes he'd keep his eyes closed all night and walk around like he could see right through the lids. One eyelid had a skull tattooed on it. The other had a cockroach. And his fingernails were stained black. I think it was a stain. It wasn't paint, or polish, or anything like that. The color seemed to come out from the nails themselves. He wore a blue robe, like a worn, dirty magician's robe. You know what it was made of? Human skin... The blue color came from when it was still alive. It was tattooed on... all over... dark blue. That, in itself, must have killed the poor bastards, because skin has to breath and tattooing kills sweat glands. But I'm just guessing. Could be they were flensed alive. That was a 'fad' in the middle ages... Boy, was it ever. Doors used to open and close as he passed. Big doors... oak doors. Torches, you know, the kind in those wrought iron holders, used to burn when he passed by too. Everyplace else was dark. Nameless, little entities scurried through the blackness. They tickled. They laughed. They teased. And when his robe fell open, which it often did, I could see a tiny, sallow,  doughy looking, paunchy greasy man, all bent up in a fetal position, hanging from a nipple by his teeth. Not nursing. Just hanging. Dark eyes. Round, dark eyes. Always looking. Always staring. And once, when I was close enough to get a good look (you know there wasn't much light in there to begin with) I could see..... Flies' eyes they were. Bugs' eyes he had.

One night, the man who never spoke, or opened his eyes led me into a little room... a round, stone chamber with four slit windows at the four compass points... It was cold. I can tell you that. The wind whistled through those openings. But he didn't care. I guess he was immune to the chill too.

There was a rough, wooden table in the middle of the space with a sputtering, fat candle on it. Sometimes the draft blew it out, but the flame came back within seconds. I think the man did it... With his power, I mean. And next to the candle was a small, rectangular, metal box made of zinc, or pewter, or something like that. He, the silent man, opened his robe and carefully removed  the disgusting stowaway from his teat.  I could hear it mew like a cat, as it made faces and balled up its little fists. Like a hedgehog it was. No bigger. And he laid it in the cold metal box. How it trembled and cried, but the strange magician held it down with his thumb and forefinger. Then he sighed. That's all he did... one exhalation. A moment later, something very much like spontaneous generation happened, for a swarming mass of tiny, dark red, seed-like beetles spilled out from the rough sides and bottom of the crude trough, covering the unfortunate, flabby thing, as if in living beans that bit into its flesh. How it cried like a little baby, til they clogged the mouth and stopped it.

I couldn't turn away. I wanted to, but I couldn't. The 'magician' still had his fingers in that mess, though they didn't bite him. Sometimes a pathetic, little hand would reach up from the seething insects, only to quickly vanish once again. And perhaps one hundred heartbeats later it was over. The horrid, little beasties disappeared back into wherever it was they came from, revealing a tiny, contorted skeleton. Minute shreds of flesh and gristle stuck to the joints and even the crystalline bug eyes were gone.

Then the strange magician raised his hand and licked the few remaining bugs from his fingers.

The next night plague came to the mountains... and half the people died....

                                            +     +     +

On the little, kitchen TV screen, Hoda and Kathy-Lee laughed like drunken college girls, but none of the night-folk joined in...

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DER KRAMPUS MANN...... (google it)...... 12/22/13

Sometimes people disappear... and no one takes credit.  It's like a big, old, celestial trolley car goes 'clang-clang-clang' jams on them breaks and snatches them up. Ain't no body. Ain't no chipped finger nail or ripped-out piece a hair. No eyeball. No nothin'. They just gone. 

A lot of times it's night-folks, vampires, who do that. Occasionally a little part of the corpse might 'survive.' ... Might be a baby toe in some grease, or the outer rim of an ear. Looks like that 'very rare' phenomenon known as spontaneous human combustion. But if you been with us a while... you know.... Ain't no such thing as spontaneous human combustion. If there was, why don't we see it all the time? Why ain't dead dogs and cats and pigeons and rats lightin' up too? They got the same chemicals as us and a dead dog can weigh the same as a dead human. That 'combustion' crap just a story cops made up, vampires too, to fool folks. 'Cause Jack Nicholson was right. You CAN'T handle the truth... Well, you can, 'cause you're reading this, but lots a people can't. That's what saves vampires, other 'strange folk' too. They're like aliens and Santa Claus. Either you do, or you don't. OK, OK, OK, maybe aliens a little more real than that, but you know what I mean. Look, government KNOWS aliens are real, even without the evidence, mathematically they have to be. Yet some people feel threatened by that and believe, or pretend to believe otherwise. Just feels better that way. 'Reality' goes on.

Look, who'd believe what went on last night? Some folks might have legends about stuff like that.... scary stories from 'the old country.' But, you know, gorillas and orangutans were legends too, 'fore they found them out.

And I don't even know if it happened on top a the Comcast Building, 'cause they don't got the roof for it. Got like a pyramid, a pinnacle, up there and how people gonna stand on that? They'd all slide down and go splat! Probably went off somewhere else and just said that to fool us. But the thing is, it DID happen on some other tall redoubt out there. Why not? This city full a magic since the beginning... Here's an everyday example all of 'em know about. That Comcast Building do got somethin' funny on top. Got a little, bronze statue of William Penn. Think it's like about eighteen inches tall and just like that big, forty foot, artificial, flagpole sitter they got balancin' hisself on top a City Hall (you know, high above the spot where the gallows used to be). Had an unwritten law around here. No buildin' taller than 'Billy' Penn's hat. From eighteen seventy six to nineteen seventy six that was it. Six hundred feet (includin' the statue)... Plenty a room. But then business people start gettin' 'uppity.' They strart goin' higher. Folks get nervous. Fire start, or team lose they whisper.... 'Billy Penn's Curse... He don't like it... The Lord Protector wants his due.'... Few years back, big building goes up, a 'top ten tallest' in United States... Comcast Building.... You know, '30 Roc' ain't the jewel in the crown. THIS is. This where all the money sits. Little statue sits there too.... right on top... bolted down an' everything.... Billy Penn got a hat... and it the tallest thing around. But we meanderin' a bit. Lemme get back to the weirdness at hand.....

Last night was 'Dark Night,' the longest stretch of blackness in the year.... clear and strangely warm too. Wiccans held 'skraelings.' Godly folk stay inside.... 'Jump in bed and cover up your head, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight.'..... Well, maybe not Santa Claus, and maybe not tonight, but somebody else does. If you got like a great-grandmother, or better yet a great-great grandmother what came from where folks wear little suede shorts and eat bratwurst an' all, you know.

Der Krampus Mann ist Kommen... a shadowy, rustic, stunted being from the forest.. a Rumpelstiltskin, but for real. Strong, he is. Enduring... When the natives jettisoned Polytheism for what they claim to follow now, he remained. To avoid the terror they bound him to Santa Claus... a runty, little helper who punished wicked children by chopping them up, entombing them alive, or spiriting them to hell. Happy Holidays, y'all. 

Now vampires recognize the spirit world. Most of them retain some form of their mortal faith, but they know other things too. Certain rites must be observed and Winter Solstice is one of them. So they gathered on a roof top, high above the city, to play it out. Tomas was there with his consort, Sarah. Leo and Conrad, the two stepbrother vampires stood close by. Baylah, our Beyonce look-alike, attended with her rich, mortal, financier boyfriend. The elferinos and elferinas watched expectantly from the background. I'm told I can tell you 'Papa' was there. He did not manifest in a physical form, but he was there. Lesser known night-folk, such as Blackie and Minnie were there too. Some vampires brought mortal guests... well liked 'familiars' and all that. And a really very good jazz quintet played Dave Brubeck's 'Take five' in the corner. Tuxedo'ed waiters circulated with little trays of chilled vodkas. I think there were other savories for the mortals, but I'm not sure what they were. A discrete, unnamed vampire or two hovered on the periphery. Just another smart, little soiree during 'The Season,' though one of the guests had yet to arrive....

A mortal, some sort of 'familiar' and his self-conscious wife came over to chat... Hello - he said. Quite a view from up here... The wife grinned and nodded. But she looked right at the mouth. That's a sign. Not used to vampires. Wants to see the teeth. Maybe afraid to see the teeth. Tomas understood. He knew, so he didn't expose them.... Yes - he answered. Obviously, we can see Jersey, over there, quite easily. And off to the west, those far, little twinkling lights in the distance form part of The Main Line.... Then he introduced them to Sarah. She's always gracious. The mortal woman complimented her diamond drop. Sarah responded with niceties about the woman's clutch. Vampires know how to act. Quite a civilized evening. Eleven thirty it was. The 'best' was yet to come.

Winter Solstice is one of the few nights of the year when midnight, twelve o'clock, falls precisely when it should... seven hours from dusk and seven hours from false dawn. And when the huge, illuminated, pale yellow, clock face high atop the tower of City Hall began to strike, they heard him. One or two brave souls looked over the balustrade, but most pulled back. A gnarled, little man, quite stricken in years ascended the facade like a fly. No ropes. No hooks. No aids. Just his fingers. Just his toes. A dense, full, wiry beard covered his body, or at least the front of it. And a similar thatch falling from his head almost did the same to his back. A few pigeons fluttered 'round him. But closer inspection revealed them to be large, bug-eyed moths. Was he visible to others around the city? Who knew? Magic is as magic does. On the twelfth stroke he pulled himself up over the top. Conversation ceased. The jazz group fell silent, except for the drummer who continued to lightly brush one cymbal, providing a troubling pulse to the proceedings. The old man studied the people. Everyone froze under the black, hard, knowing gaze.... He hobbled closer, sniffing as he went. Each inspected intimately... the mouth... the heart... the groin... never touching the person, or the fabric of their dress, but smelling and evaluating just the same. Some chanced a look, taking in the mottled flesh and swollen knuckles. But der krampus mann guards his dignity and suffers not such affronts. One man, a mortal guest, lost his eyes, gouged out by the dirty nails of the strange visitor. Tomas hated this thing. His faith is real. But every year, and he'd be hard pressed to tell you why, he takes part. Sarah and most of the others just closed their eyes and endured, kissed by the fluttering wings of the huge moths.

A waiter dropped a tray. He almost died right then and there. But der krampus just looked. His prey was elsewhere. Three heartbeats later he grabbed the woman before him 'round her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. She screamed. Her husband yelled - NO!... But Baylah hugged him close and pulled him back, as the loathsome monster spat out something in a gutteral tongue, jumped up into the midnight sky and sped away, disappearing high among the stars. And all that was left of the woman was her shoes.

No one moved, til the combo started to play. Tomas quietly whispered the prayer for the dead. And Marianne, one of the pubescent vampire 'elferinas' ministered to the trembling, newly blind man with tiny droplets of her blood. Let's hope his eyes grow back.

You think everyone would have streamed out right then and there, but they didn't. All I know is they downed a lot of vodka, even the night-folk. Some sat still on little chairs and stared. There was a lot of that.

And when the other waiter came out with a tray filled with piping hot 'pigs in the blankets.' they disappeared real fast too.

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Woodland String Band Mummers 2012 If you've never seen a Philadelphia New Years Day MUMMERS PARADE, here's a good peek. Ties in to Tomorrow's WINTER SOLSTICE, VAMPIRE TALE

The parade lasts all day. Early morning hours are given to hordes of clowns, female impersonators and what we in Philadelphia call 'king jockeys.' It's an old tradition going back to B.P. (before Penn) times. Swedish and Dutch settlers celebrated the sun's return with outlandish costumes and street to street parades. Everybody got drunk and shot off their muskets, thus for centuries New Year's revelers were called New Year's 'Shooters.' It's only recently they stopped shooting guns off, 'cause what goes up must come down and a few people got their skulls accidentally ventilated. Large scale neighborhood parades date to late colonial times, finally becoming formalized in 1901.

Today, the twin jewels in the crown are the STRING BANDS and the FANCY DIVISIONS. They're like New Orleans Mardi Gras crews.  Membership is a familial affair going back generations and the music is based on old minstrel shows. Most string bands and fancy divisions (brass instruments allowed) bring in professional stagers from the legitimate theater. Prizes are awarded (largely token amounts) but bragging rights are the big thing. Each individual member spends thousands of dollars a year.

Until a generation or two ago all parts were filled by men or boys. "Females' were called 'wenches' and non-white participants were practically non existent. Such practices, thankfully, disappeared in the sixties and seventies.

If you're in the city over New Years, hordes of people DO get up early and go 'in town' to see the festivities. Bleacher seats, near judges' stand are available for a price, but most spectators stake out spots along the route (Broad Street/Avenue of The Arts) and dance along with the passing performers. Oh Dem Golden Slippers is the anthem. It's like an 'ethnic' Philadelphia song played at ALL local weddings, every group, every price point. And we all dance the 'Mummers' Strut' (a cake walk)  too. Think Philadelphia tarantella or hora. 

If I didn't already say so, the string bands start appearing about one o'clock, maybe later and continue passed dark. Fancy divisions (even MORE elaborate) perform in an adjacent convention facility. Shows are 12PM and 5PM. 

String bands are a big part of local culture throughout the Philadelphia/South Jersey area and perform at Atlantic City's Miss America Parade too.

Decent food trucks will be scattered along the route and there're plenty of hotels to duck into for pee-pee breaks, restaurants too. 

For more information google The Philadelphia Mummers Museum. A unique event and very much like what you'd find in Europe. If you've been to Belgium or France or Germany, you know.

The hot, fresh, salty, soft pretzels sold along the route are good too.

Oh, and if you want a taste of the macabre (this IS Vampire Wonderland, after all) duck into the Philadelphia City Hall courtyard (exactly like a Flemish castle). Find the brass compass rose inlaid at the center ('X' marks the spot). It's where the public gallows used to be til 1876.... So many ghosts you'll be greasy with ectoplasm. You can't miss it... Right across the street from where they bands perform.

For more google The Philadelphia Convention and Visitors' Bureau.

Our main vampire, Tomas, wanted me to tell you all this, 'cause he's a proud Philadelphian. Vampires tend to be quite attached to their territories. It's true. If you want to learn about a city, ask the vampires.

Good night and may The Season of Miracles be bright for you and yours...... If you want to browse through our more than 1,360 posts, click on this~> I WANT TO BROWSE .... or join us on Twitter via ~>WHERE BILLY SITS ON TWITTER ... your COMMENTS are very welcome too. 

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