THE GHOST, JOHANNON, TELLS OF MASSACRES, MARTYRDOM AND CRUCIFIXIONS .. 2/5/14

I sat there in the weak flickering glow from the fireplace studying the motionless apparition sitting across from me.... an almost opaque presence, but not quite. Tiny pinpoints of silvery light sparkled from within the spirit body. Was I afraid? Of course I was afraid. After what happened with the first one, what do you think?  I thought it was Johannon. Yet how could I be sure? Supernatural beings have an advantage. Look what Madam Shang did to Grigori Usipov. We see so much in this house. And since living with these 'people' I've learned to 'see' things. They walk the streets at night... shadowy figures disappearing in the shadows. You've seen them. But you pretend not to, especially when you're driving and can speed away.

The ghost said nothing. He didn't move. But I knew it was Johannon. I heard him in my mind, or rather I felt him. I knew what he knew. His eyes were open, but he didn't look at me. I whispered - Why are you here?..... He 'said' - I don't know. You promised the living souls who read this you'd show them ghosts. I heard that and so I am here.  Where is my charge?....... I knew he meant Tomas. I told him he was off somewhere with his consort, Sarah. Johannon seemed to accept that. I 'said' - Please, aren't you attached to 'Jonathon?'..... The ghost said - That's all I ever called him. The 'Tomas' part came after..... And then he was silent for a long time. but he never answered my question. I said - Please, sir, talk to me of your life..... I figured he'd like a more traditional, old world cadence. He knew what I was thinking. He felt it and he laughed. I didn't see, or hear his reaction. I just understood it. And then he began.

The presence 'said' - I was born in the fabled medina of Granada, in the four thousand, eight hundred, fourteenth year ordained by Our Lord. This age calls it '1054.' My father was a radanite, a long distance traveler, merchant and explorer. He'd been back and forth to Hind and The Tang Empire, what you call 'Cathay' twice. And this was two hundred years before the Trinitarian known as Marco Polo made his pilgrimage. Our home was the equal of any noble residence in the city. Indeed, my father and uncles were contemporaries of the ben Macabi (Jonathon's family). Life in Al Andalus was agreeable, not perfect, but (sigh) less brutal than almost any place in Christendom. Though there were certain cruel, petty, telling limitations. Jews and Christians could not bear arms, or even seek marshal training, though both communities did so in secret, yet against Muslim numbers such measures were pointless. We paid extra taxes, could not wear silk or furs, or for the most part, fill positions of authority over any but members of our own faith. Public religious celebrations were denied us. No bells. No horns. No trumpets. But we could live. Our children were educated. Our livestock unmolested..What more could one ask in such 'primitive' times?. Though in my twelfth mortal year all that changed.  He who ruled over us, the king, known as Badis al-Muzaffar, of a line originally from the Moroccan Shore, named a vizier, one Yusef ibn Naghrela. And that one was a Jew. Needless to say, others wanted that honor. For to be a vizier in Al Andalus was a great and honorable thing. 'The king before the king,' as some called it. And they who were against him spread tales. Were they true? Who knows? How often does anyone save ambassadors, brother rulers, generals, certain nobles or religious teachers come to know such people?

But on the thirtieth day of the month you call December, in the year you call '1066,' our enemy took his revenge. They say four thousand people died that day. They crucified ibn Naghrela . Grabbed him and martyred him right then and there. Was he a true Jew? Who knows? But if he prayed with any other group would they have killed them all? They shattered his wrist bones with black, iron spikes. Did the same to his ankles. And when he called out they smashed his face. Women were torn with razors. Children thrown head first into wells. Those rich in years had their heads twisted 'round til they died. Homes were burnt. Cattle killed. Horses killed. Asses killed. Parrots, felines, monkeys. I suppose the carp in the carp pools met the same fate too. All the pools I saw after were broken and dry, at least ours were.

Valuables they snatched. Slaves they stole. Some who survived were stolen and enslaved too. Do you think they cared? Do you think they asked questions?. But I don't know...I managed to live through it, I hid in the cellars. Oh, they ran down there too, but I escaped through a slews gate, a pipe used to drain the place during infrequent but damaging strong, fast, flooding, autumn rains. They saw me. They ran. One lunged, reaching into the pipe with foul, slippery, bloody hands. I kicked. He jabbed with a short, stout blade of a type mariners use to cut rope. I bore the scar til my mortal death fourteen years later

Some of our brethren had been called back by then..'Good news! We are not killing you NOW'.... The old story and maybe not so old. The Family ben Macabi were among the first to return. Agents kept the house running and even maintained some level of business. They were more or less unscathed, at least in body. I lived on the streets with a band of urchins. We begged, did odd jobs, looked for 'lost'bijou from amongst the trash heaps.... some of which were not so lost. A dangerous life.  I know not if the scripture based courts would have taken the hand of a youngster, although I did see one or two not much older than I so maimed. Look, to be honest, most Trinitarians would have killed us out of hand.  'Out of hand' either way (and I felt him chuckle)...

But one day I saw haulers delivering sealed crates to the back of the ben Macabi villa. I asked if I could help, maybe carry in some small boxes for a coin or two. The foreman liked my smile, so I did. After, I stayed behind, concealing myself in the dining room and when the family there assembled  after Eventide (sun down services) presented myself. I told them my name and how my late father was an associate. Some thought me an impostor, but one uncle, more pious and learned than most asked me to prove it. When I recited The Tenets of The Faith quickly and accurately, without pause or hesitation, they believed. I was taken in, though not as a ward, but as a servant. And I was grateful even for that. At least they gave me clean, new clothes and a plate of hot, stewed lamb.

Is that how you met Jonathon (also known as Tomas) - I asked....... The motionless apparition nodded. The only movement he made all night. But he could not tell me more, for the cold, light of dawn was upon us. And his form began to fade.....

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THE 'GHOST" KNOWN AS JOHANNON 'SPEAKS'... 2/5/14

I didn't go back to the little den/office in the basement. It seemed to sinister. Who was that ghost? Why did it manifest? I know Tomas wouldn't like this, but he's off somewhere with Sarah. They like to explore the woods at night, usually different paths through the Pine Barrens. Oh, they have all different kinds of haunts there...lots of them. But most are possessed of a certain country charm and I've never heard of any attacks. 

Our people on the police force, Tomas' 'familiars' I mean, said the dead girl from last night was labeled a drug fatality. I asked - Was she?.... But the cop who came to the townhouse only smiled. I wanted to know more. I asked questions. He evaded. Edith said - Keep your mouth shut. Don't push. Don't get involved. So I did. I pretended to be satisfied. I pretended to believe the dead girl lying in the gutter was some kind of an addict, or maybe a careless recreational user. Only didn't she fall? There should have been bruises. But nothing. It looked as if somebody (something?) helped her down and drained the life right out of her. Not the blood. Nothing like that. Just the life. Naturally there was no means of identification. No wallet. No handbag. I don't know what police labs do. Maybe they'll find something?

Edith didn't want me to let the second ghost talk. But I said it was Johannon. She knows who he is. Doesn't usually interact with him herself. I do that. But she knows. The door to that little office/den space in the basement is locked. We won't go in there til they do something. I don't know. Tomas knows people.  Somebody'll come in to bless the place. Imagine, a basically reverent, moral vampire calling in a religious adept to perform a 'cleansing.' Edith did some pow-wow stuff, though.  Got a few spoonfuls of dirt from the back garden. Mashed a few bits of bread in it. Dripped in a little milk. Made a paste. Dabbed it all around the door frame. Said prayers. Even played Tomas' old Kol Nidre (old Hebrew prayer for forgiveness)record. I told her I didn't think it was right for the occasion. But she said it sounded 'religious' and she thought we should play something. 

The elferinos and elferinas were around. They had nice little 'day rooms,' sleeping places in the basement, but they didn't go down there. Edith told them to sleep upstairs since the others were away. So the two girls (Marianne and Celeste) slept in Tomas and Sarah's space and the boys (Roland and Albion) took Leo and Conrad's rooms. I think they're down in some deep, forgotten, unused subway tunnel with the mole people. You know how obliging them angel-haired, big eyed mole girls are. Probably givin' each other sponge baths in some semi-functioning, partly ruined, plaster dust filled, candle lit rest room. Some a them pipes still give forth a trickle. Water's a little rusty, but who cares?

So I took one of the big, leather club chairs in the family room. Settled in and opened the lap top.... Edith said - You want me to sit with you?..... I go - No, it's just gonna be Johannon. I'll be alright.... She asked - Are you sure? After last night and all, I mean...... I shrugged - I hope so. Look, if I start screamin' you run down.... The elferinos'll sit with you - she said... But I just shook my head. They may be vampires of a sort. Still, they're so innocent (there's no other word for it, even with all they've been through) I hated to get them involved..... So I sat there by myself, staring at the low, orange glow in the hearth. Edith turned off most of the lights. Disembodied spirits have an easier time maintaining coherence if there's not so many other sources of energy in the room. Then she shot me a wave. I nodded and she went up.

It got quiet. Fire 'popped.' I jumped.  Piece of ice slid down from the roof. I jumped higher. Then the big flat screen over the fireplace lit up. No sound. Completely silent. Think I peed a little when that happened. Wanted to get up and run. But a hand came out from under the front of the club chair and grabbed me 'round the ankle. And a voice, I couldn't make out the individual words, but understood the message, said - No, please stay..... No threat. Nothing like that. Just a simple request. Then the hand disappeared. Not that I actually saw it so much as felt it... But the air in the room felt calm. So I relaxed, as much as I could, and watched the scene unfold. 

Shapes and images took form on the screen. The initial brightness dimmed a bit, revealing a street, a neat, stone, cobbled street running from the far distance to the screen itself. Neat, stuccoed buildings flanked it. Black wrought iron balconies festooned with potted geraniums looked down from upper floors. And colorful songbirds in delicate, black wire cages, mounted down toward street level where passersby might see and enjoy them  provided detail and texture. A figure approached , a man, tall and straight, with short cropped hair and a close dark beard. He wore a trim, grey cassock, long sleeved and buttoned to the neck and finished with a dark red sash. I recognized him right away. It was Johannon. I'd felt his presence before. I'd channeled him and spoke to him, but never like this. He was so real. It was so immediate. He was right there.

Then it was done. The screen went black. I was alone in a dim and shadowy room. But there before me sat a figure, almost opaque, almost solid, but not quite. I looked. He nodded. It was Johannon and after a moment he spoke. The words were Spanish, though archaic, yet I understood his every word.

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES: An hour or so before dawn the barrel maker's boy rapped on the trap door..... What? - said the dominee...... You see, vampires are not ...



This is one of our best story arcs.  A fourteen year old (in appearance anyway) elferina-vampirina regales a posh, townhouse salon filled with well-heeled subscribers, with the shocking truth of her adventurous life both before and after her dramatic 'vampirization.' Join her as she shares tales of nights in Old Antwerp and Inquisitional dungeons. Lead is vampire kryptonite, don't you know. Lot a cool facts in this one. 



Scroll up and down to see it all. You know how to do that? You go to the OLDER POST or NEWER POST thing at the bottom of each episode and click on it. Worth it for the harrowing sea crossing sequence alone.



So please click on where it says 'MARIANNE IN BRITCHES just above all this red letter stuff and dive in. 



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WE HEAR DEAD PEOPLE ... 2/4/14

Earlier tonight, on Twitter, I said I'd try to get some ghosts on the 'panel' tonight and I did. One, we know. He's Johannon, Tomas' (also known as Jonathon) old servant from his mortal days. The other refuses to identify himself (herself?). But that one certainly has a lot to say. 

Had to burn a few aroma candles. Paranormal entities certainly enjoy certain smells.... often the scent of flowering plants.... blossoms from trees. I find apple and magnolia works best.  A few like orange blossoms, but they're just show offs. 

We did this, the communicating thing, I mean, in a little office/den downstairs at the townhouse. Like the kind of space the housekeeper has in Downton Abbey. The ghost of the polio victim kid goes in there to play with his Match Box cars. Died too soon for Hot Wheels, God damn it.  But he wasn't around tonight.  Edith set him up with an old record player in the living room. not the family room, but the cozy sitting room off the vestabule when you first come in. Leo (when he's here) calls it 'the quiet talkin' room.' Nobody ever goes in there. Well, they do, but not much. Gave him two records, the albums of Candide and Les Miserables. Kid's got good taste.  She'll go in to turn 'em over and switch records and all. He's got some telekinetic powers, but they're still too iffy. So he's in there all snuggled in a corner of the love seat, with one little lamp on. Drapes are all shut. He doesn't like to see out at night. Says it makes him feel cold. Now I told him he could come in, if he wanted to, but he said - Uh uh. Found some old pictures of him in a box once. Cute kid. Guess he wasn't so sick when they took 'em. Asked him if he wanted us to hang them up so he could see them all the time. Couple had his mother and father too. But he said - No. We didn't press him.

Un-named ghost manifested first. I knew, because a wax candle shaped like one of the hippo ballerinas from Fantasia vibrated and spun around on a shelf. Looked like it was staring right at me. Then I felt it . Room didn't feel cold. Room didn't feel hot. Just felt different.  Shadows from the small desk lamp took on a certain edge. And even though the lamp never moved, the dim, pool of light seemed to shift a little. That's when I heard it. An old Teddy Ruxpin (Sarah collects vintage toys) sitting in a real cushy armchair in the corner, turned its head, blinked its eyes and spoke.... It said - Are you the one who called me?..... I just looked. I didn't open my mouth. Our own paranormal entities and night-folks are one thing, but this was a stranger. And around here we know how weird they can be. Anybody remember Johnny Jump Up? {you can google him... Johnny Jump Up by Billy Kravitz... he's in there}... But the ghost thing (in that talking teddy bear voice) just went on. It said - I can see your body change. I can see minute lines snaking across your skin. I can see your organs slowly dying. Mortal time is strange to me. Sometimes it flies and sometimes it flows like stone. Once I haunted a stairwell for fourteen years staring at a small, little light bulb that never went off. Another time I whispered in the ear of a troubled, young man on a subway platform. It was late. He was alone. The train was coming. And I said - Step off. You're dead already... Two heartbeats later he did and I felt his body shatter and the meat rip off his bones, as the sharp, hard, crushing wheels ran up his spine... What's death to me? I did it and I'm here. Let that bastard take care of himself.

For the longest time I just lay there, wedged in what used to be my body, in a tight, narrow coffin... no light... just a putrid, moldering corpse... my corpse... I thought. I slept. I dreamed. Sometimes I forgot I was dead and 'screamed' for someone to help me. Then I'd remember and laugh and laugh and laugh. But I was still locked in a grave. 

Then one cold dark autumn night some young people broke my tombstone. They pushed it over and cracked it. I heard it. I felt their thoughts. I smelled their hate. And I rose up through the viscous remnants of what used to be my body, through the lid, through the dirt, til they saw my ghostly form prone on the grass. I reached up and grabbed one by his windpipe. What you call 'telekinetics is a thing with me. And my fingers wrapped 'round his slimy gristle and crushed it til he died. The girl, his sex partner, screamed and ran, but she tripped on a low, granite boarder and cracked her skull on a small, cement bench. ... They writhe in pain to this day..... What year is this?.......... Twenty fourteen - I said... as I sunk back into my seat....... This happened in nineteen twenty four - he said. So you do the math.

The stuffed, mechanical 'talking' bear lowered its head and stopped. Then the eyes rolled up and looked right through me. I gripped the arms of the chair, afraid to move, til blood dripped out from under every nail. ... The possessed automaton went quiet, tipped over and tumbled to the floor. The battery compartment was open.... and it was empty.

And the little, hippo, ballerina candle was turned back the other way... I raced up those old, narrow, cellar steps so fast it's a wonder I didn't break my neck.

Next time I'll tell 'bout Johannon...

Oh, one more thing. Later that morning, after a gray, cold dismal dawn, they found a dead girl laying in the street, not twelve feet from the door,.... No obvious sign of injury.... Yet her face was twisted with fear and the eyes, though dry and opaque,  stared from this world to the next...

Check the knick-knacks at your place. which one's looking at you?

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Some Stuff About Currently Handicapped Vampire-Oligarch, Grigori Usipov.. 2/2/14

Tomas didn't want to help. He sent more vials of blood via 'familiars' but went back to Atlantic City.  Baylah's boyfriend was hosting a Super Bowl party catered by Steve & Cookies back by the bay. You know their big, cold seafood platter with the lobster, oysters, crab and, oh God, I don't know... mermaid meat and all? Trays of it... Huge trays of it... on ice, with homemade wasabi sauce and potato salad and cole slaw to die for. The vampires wouldn't have any. Tomas might sip a clam juice cocktail,  if it was strained enough. Baylah walks around with a little plate pretending to nibble. True, they can swallow some food. Sure, it all comes up soon after. A lot of vampires can do that. They have to, if they want to fit in and survive. You know, sometimes they're invited places where not everybody is a friend. Baylah says they're gonna have the game in the big, club-like den, but whoever wants can duck downstairs to the theater for season three of Downton Abbey, plus the new episode later on. A vamperina friend of hers, Bernice, spent time at the real Highclear Castle in the eighteen eighties. A little cameo-like porcelain portrait of her rests on a table in the withdrawing room. It's clearly visible on television. No, wait. Maybe it's in one of the rooms in Maggie Smith's 'dower house?' That's where I think it is. 

Doctor Franklin's having a Super Bowl party too. Gonna have bangers an' mash, meat pies, spotted dick and all that stuff he remembers from colonial days. Hey, it's hot. It's heavy. It's hearty. They'll like it. The crudites platters and the dip and all, not to mention the gourmet cheeses and fresh baked, olive oil and garlic pita chips are modern. The deserts are all regular... cheese cakes, carrot cake, walnut sticky buns. Let me tell you. Super Bowl Sunday is better than Thanksgiving. 

Handicapped, Russian, vampire-oligarch Grigori Usipov's still a problem though. He cries all the time. They communicate with him through simplified 'hand letters.' He knows English. One tap on his palm is 'A'... two is 'B' and so on. Somebody 'told' him how much Apple stock dropped. That set him off, 'cause he got a really big slice of that. Drives the kitchen staff crazy too. Eats regular mortal food now. Makes 'em cook Russian crap. Oh, come on. I KNOW it's not crap. But I don't know what it is. My great grandparents and great-great grandparents used to know what it was. Even then it was basically Ukrainian takes on the cuisine as sifted through various kosher practices. Vestiges survive, but mostly brought in from delicatessens. And everybody eats that. Know what the kitchens in Franklin's complex do? Call in from The Famous Delicatessen in Queens Village and Syrenka's in Port Richmond. He don't know the difference. Even if he does, what's he gonna do?

Luna sits with him. She's a vampire-medical doctor who works here. Franklin's protege. Had her since she a kid. Don't remember when she became a vampire, or who did the deed. Ran with Tomas a while. Them two used to sex each other up real good. He already mushed up with Sarah then too. Some what read this might remember their battle down in them storage rooms under The University (of Pennsylvania) Museum. That what made the museum board throw 'em out. Ghosts what live in them mummies still miss 'em. If you work late down there, you can hear 'em whisperin' to each other. But ain't nobody know what they say, 'cause it in ancient Coptic. Little Bastid Annie used to know, though, 'cause children pick stuff up real fast and vampire young'uns most of all.

Luna say (by tappin' on his hand) that she turn him back vampire if he want to. But he feared a bein' deaf an' blind. Wanna get hisself all fixed up first. Maybe drop ten pound. Do some exercises. Pump hisself up a little. He like communicatin' wit' her. But he want this mortal body a mite sharper 'fore he turn night-folk again. Like to run his hands all over Luna, though. Kiss her up too sometimes.

After the 'holiday.' After Super Bowl Sunday. They gonna work on him some more. Them vials a blood Tomas send over do some. Keep him healthy and all. But he still can't see or hear none. Franklin wanna put mouse cells in his eyes. Not mouse cells. They got human cells from some prisoner been bought from the cops. But they learned 'bout how to do this from mice. Gotta scrape off shit from back a them eyes. Not the outside a the back a the eyes. The inside of the back a the eyes. Them what give it go blind. Them what get it maybe not so blind.... Maybe. An' to go down a different road, lemme tell you this. 'Billy,' what been typin' this out, slidin' off his chair, 'cause he so tired. So I doin' it.... Mister Never You Mind... You know me. I one a the disembodied, spirit narrators. Don't know how I movin' them keys though. Did not think I possessed the ability to do that... But apparently I do. Ain't that a kick in the head!?

Hard to tell from that hand tappin' Patty Duke "Miracle Worker' talk what Usipov comprehend and what he don't comprehend. He scared 'bout  that eye thing, though. Only he ain't got much choice. They gone pick 'round in there whether he want it or not.

Luna leave him to go fix up her hair.. She got like a ponytail thing. It long an' she flip it around. She think it make her look sexy. Got these two pieces what come down front a her ears. Think she like that new body what Usipov in an' wanna do somethin' with him. An' he do wanna be night-folk again, cause once you night-folk mortal life don't seem much better'n than what a dog got. That's it from the big, ole complex under The Navy Yard. I gone go watch a movie.

If you an' yours observe Super Bowl festivities, have a good one. And don't eat too much groundhog.

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Hairspray - You Can't Stop the Beat.... VAMPIRE ON BANDSTAND --scroll down to the video ...2/1/14

Years ago, when BANDSTAND first went on the air out of an early TV studio on 48th Street, in PHILADELPHIA Tomas (our vampire star) would enter the building via a subway access and dance on the show. Dick Clark knew, because the guy who owned the station lent camera equipment to DOCTOR FRANKLIN so he could  record strange specimens at his complex under The Philadelphia Navy Yard. They still have old deteriorating footage of two Jersey Devils and little baby merfolk swimming around in the old tank. 


Tomas would slick his long wavy hair back in a duck tail. Looked sharp in his black slacks (no jeans then), black leather ankle boots and white shirt. He wore a black tie too. The other kids thought it was like part of a parochial school uniform, 'cause a lot of them came right after school. 


I don't know where they are, but somewhere in Philadelphia, or possibly Los Angeles (from when Dick Clark moved out there, is a box filled with old kinescopes (early tapes) of kids dancing on the show. And you can clearly see Tomas... doing line dances and slow dances and strolls and fifties style jitter-bugs. 


Two girls... there were two girls he used to dance with, Roberta and Josephine (they called her Josie). Rated a few records too, he did. Said - Hi, my name is 'Tommy.' I'm seventeen years old (he fudged a year) and I give it a seventy two, 'cause it's easy to dance to and I like the beat.


And that's it.... a vampire having fun. We put up the clip from HAIRSPRAY (about the real Corny Cobb show in Baltimore) to recreate the atmosphere. Couldn't find the old BANDSTAND kinescopes. I don't think Tomas cares if you see him.... I don't know... ENJOY!

PREMATURE BURIAL and Tomas Meets With Kevin and Max and Liam .. 1/31/14

Kevin looked through the records. He scanned all the posts on line, plus even got a peek at La Ciencia Vampirismo. Didn't see the actual old, vellum book. Tomas just xeroxed a few pages, 'cause he told them about it and figured he had to bring something. They met at some diner in Old City. That's a Center City neighborhood north of Society Hill, sort of. A few other guys from the university came too and they had a Skype thing with some kids from PENN STATE... PENN and PENN STATE... The Big Ten and the Ivy League..... 'enemies.' But not really. One of the other guys, Liam has a cousin up there and they saw each other not too long ago, during The Holidays. Turns out the cousin, Daniel his name is, minors in vampire studies. Wants to be a vampire, but his mother won't sign the permission slip. Tomas says it's fake. He never heard a no vampire up in 'Happy Valley' (term for the straight from central casting, upstate Pennsylvania, beautiful mountain town campus) So as a consolation he wants to form a Junto Vampirido chapter instead.  Actually, Tomas almost forgot about the meeting, but Edith a note magneted up on the refrigerator. Called him in Atlantic City. Well, not directly in Atlantic City, but one of the towns ten minutes 'downbeach' of Atlantic City,  where Baylah's rich boyfriend has a house. He and Sarah had tickets for a show too.... some magic thing. Odd how beings possessed of a certain measure of real magic can be so into the fake sort. But he didn't want the kids to be disappointed, so he sublimated through the air (like flying) and it was cold. Let me tell you. Not long after he materialized on the street right outside the aforementioned diner. Hair a little messed up. Not a bad look. You know that wavy, long, black hair he's got? Clothes were still OK, though. Pure Tomas de Macabea all the way... The trim, black bootkins.... The black jeans... The white shirt... The fine, black, leather jacket.... More like a finger-tip-length thing. No what he does to stay warm when he sublimates (means going WHOOSH through the very atoms of creation) ? He wears this Gore-tex thing. Like a long sleeved t-shirt it is. Sarah read about it on line. Ordered it from Amazon. One of the 'familiars' was gonna get it for them, but sometimes they like to be self-reliant.

So he and the kids went into the diner. They had a room in the back, not too different than that place in University City. You know, just realized how many neighborhoods in Center City, Philadelphia have words like 'village' or 'city' or 'town' or something like that in the name. OK, Chinatown is a given. Third biggest U.S. Chinatown too, after San Francisco and New York. But then there's Franklin Town, Queen's village. Old City, University City, Museum Town. I don't know... a whole lot of 'em.

Thing is, they tore down a Beau Arts early 20th century apartment building to make way for a condo tower in one a them 'cities' and found an old graveyard under it. That always happens. You know those old fashioned coffins shaped like Halloween decorations? .... Dozens of 'em and fairly well preserved too. Sad thing is one of them had the skeleton of a child inside, an eleven year old little boy. And the bones were found in a rather agitated position. Looked like he was trying to force the lid up with his back. But six feet of damp clay weighs tons. He wern't gone no where. Funny thing is Tomas knew the kid. Went to his funeral and everything. Well, didn't actually go to the service, 'cause that happened during the day. But he did pay a condolence call later that night. Robert, the boy's name was. Children always died from fevers back then. Father was a lawyer, or an 'advocate' as they called them in those days. Trial specialists were called 'barristers.'  Everybody liked Robert. Tomas once gave him a copy of Gulliver's Travels and a real nice, hand cranked, glass, ceramic and brass electrical charge generator thing. Got it from Doctor Franklin. Robert loved it. Liked chocolate from the French Confectioners on Fourth Street too. Tomas used to get it for him all the time. The father, the lawyer. was like an early 'familiar.' Look, Doctor Franklin knew the boy too. And they forgot how bad they were when he passed. Tomas wanted to use his blood. He wanted to cure him. Just a few drops. That's all. But, Margaret, the mother was afraid. She was a good soul, but that's how it was. So the boy died and they buried him. An hour later he woke up and died a second time, alone and terrified and crying in the dark.

That's what they talked about in the diner. They were supposed to talk about good deeds and things they did to help people. But the kids wanted to hear about the premature burial. Tomas said as far as he was concerned they're all premature burials, mortal life span being what it is. Kids wanted to know if he ever saw ghosts. Tomas said - Yes, a lot of times..... To make up for ignoring the good deeds and all, the vampire called some charity on his cell phone and used his debit card number to donate Twenty five hundred dollars. Then they just sat there eating their eggs. Tomas drank plain, unsweetened iced tea. Everybody got real quiet.

If they buried people at night, Tomas might have felt something. He might have gone down to the graveyard. He might have saved him.

When the kids left (the ones on Skype too), he could have sublimated back down the shore, but he didn't.... Tomas silently walked over to the spot where they took down the Beau Arts building and sat on a bench looking at the pit where the little boy died alone in the dark... And he remembered all the other people he'd lost over the years as well...

That's a side to longevity most of us never think about...

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LINKS ---->

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