The Formerly Dead Vampire, Tomas, Gets 'Reborn'..... 7/5/14

When it was over, these cute, little chimes went off, just like the ones that play when an LG washer or dryer completes a cycle. Those in attendance politely applauded. Doctor Franklin turned and bowed. The effort made him fart a little, but he didn't care. A faint pressure wave emanated from the polished, bronze box. Everyone felt it. The 'clean room' was infused with a subtle, organic, 'human' scent.... rather like those low cost musky colognes from the nineteen seventies. 

Doctor Franklin said - Open the box. Get him out!..... But after hearing all that Old Castillian mumbling and all, everyone expected a successful outcome. Two functionaries (I guess they were technicians) fussed with the clasps. A pin light shot down from above, hitting the shiny box and highlighting this second nativity. Franklin loves special effects and theatrical gestures, you know. He poised for a portrait in a raccoon skin cap eons before Davy Crockett. A regular eighteenth century Will Rogers he was, though with a knife-like, white-hot cunning. 

And when the 'new' Tomas popped up out of the box, it was The Rocky Horror Show all over again. People cheered. They waved tiny American flags (Fourth of July weekend, you know) locked elbows and danced little jigs. ....

So similar to the original Tomas. That agency was good. They really found an unbelievable lookalike. Too bad he 'died' for the part. Not his flesh. Just his 'everything else.' When they helped him climb out of the polished, bronze box he trembled. He blinked. He stumbled. 

What's his body temperature? - yelled Franklin...... Technician Number One made a quick scan and said -  Thirty four degrees Celsius, sir. - he said.... Now normal Celsius human body temperature is thirty seven degrees. Three degrees discrepancy is a big thing, maybe just over ninety degrees Fahrenheit. and apparently it was dropping.

Franklin yelled - Luna! Go get him! ....... With that, his vampire-physician protege pushed through the crowd and ran up on the platform followed by her own cadre of medics. They wrapped him in a pliable metallic membrane and carefully passed him down onto a gurney. He looked gray. His eyes fluttered. But he whispered something. Tomas, also known as Jonathon, whispered something. He called the attractive, vampire-physician over, pulled her close and said - Vampirido? Estoy vampirido? Si, o no? ( Vampire? Am I vampire? Yes, or no?)........ Luna sighed, shook her head and said - No....... And he laughed and laughed and laughed. 

Photographers shouldered close to snap pictures. I don't know who sent them, or how they got in. But they were there and with today's digital technology the images would go viral in no time.

Tomas put up his hand and said - No, not like this. Not now. Please... please... please.......... 

Ever the vain gentleman. Al Andalus dies hard...... But the pictures were posted before they wheeled him out of the room. Young people, magical types, gathered at venues throughout Center City, saw the images on their smart phones and cheered.

Somebody told Doctor Franklin and he went - Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

I don't know what happened to the picture takers. A guy next to me said one was a robot, a human-like robot, developed in Japan.... Who knows? But if that's true, what the hell did he need a phone for? Wouldn't they build that circuitry right into his eye?

Meanwhile, Sarah, Tomas' rather saintly, vampire consort, raced toward the Bureau, as a genuine Jersey Devil swooped above the crowd in Washington Square with commercial grade sparklers in his hands... 

Independence Day, 2014..... More next time.....

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The Vampire Known As Tomas Sublimates Back To The Living... 7/2/14

I am drawn as if by celestial magnates. Those dear to me in this place fade away. I hear voices, some from this world, some from yours. They mumble. They whisper. They laugh. They cry. I discern no words. There is no solid surface. I plunge through space. But not a dark, cosmic void embedded with stars, planets and other isolated points of light. Mine is an endless daylight sky... a late afternoon sky, to be exact... maybe even early evening... vivid blues... white clouds tinged with purple. sunlight streams in from a low angle, but WHERE?... I see no sun. And the clouds are huge... or perhaps I am very small?

My body begins to solidify. I feel 'denser.'..... Off in the far, far distance I see storm clouds illuminated by tiny, fleeting shards of soundless lightning. I look for others, but see none. I am alone in an endless space. In God's omniverse there are many discrete infinities. 

Silent 'echoes' pulse through my being.... rhythmic and strong.....

Am I moving, or is everything else rushing through me?

{while back in the 'clean room' at Doctor Franklin's Anti-Enchantment-Bureau }

The Grand Armonica gives forth with an almost operatic crescendo. All is as it was during the goat experiment. The 'Lords Of The Sea'... the great whales, must have really sent over a whole shit load of ambergris. And instead of a goat, the polished bronze casket (actually, to me it looks like The Lost Ark Of The Covenant, only there's a matching 'Ark' all the way down at the other end and I don't think relics wrought by The Hand Of God come in pairs, unless you count certain highly sought after examples of designer footwear, but I believe He does those under assumed names for professional reasons, so they don't count) imprisons some model guy sent over by an agency under false pretenses... Thought he was gonna be in a fall fashion 'editorial' framed on tree-lined cobbled streets and all that. Doctor Franklin saw his head shot and resume in a book. A doppelganger for Tomas he was. Cut a real big check to the agency and the rest will soon be history... At least the model-boy will be. They'll say he disappeared under mysterious pretenses (true). An aunt out in Cleveland will also get a big check. She never liked him anyway. Big checks are like potato chips around here. You think our vampires are rich?..... Franklin is richer.

If you listen real hard you can hear him moaning. When he gets tired of that he chatters incoherently. The model, I mean. All the science people and technicians here swear it doesn't hurt, but they just want to see what happens. You see that squadron of ridiculously well groomed people watching from the corner? Invited guests they are..... Invited to pay fifty thousand dollars a head for the privilege. Kind of like the people who payed ten thousand dollars to hear our elferina, Marianne, recount her adventures and other worldly nativity in that posh Society Hill townhouse a while back. But this is different. Franklin's selling the immortality angle. And you know when they package that puppy, rich folks gonna go first, after they get back from Richard Branson's one time trampoline bounce up to space.

Best case scenario is model-boy survives... as a ghost. Well, they call it 'a ghost.' He'll be a coherent energy/spirit mass, hopefully in the image of his original physical self... like the 'ghost' goat they got bleating 'round The Bureau now. Worst case scenario?.... Eh, who cares? It's only a hobby.

Should take maybe forty five, sixty minutes more. We'll have either a resurrected, much loved vampire and a spectral model, or one dead fashionisto and a steaming mound of pricey whale-phlegm. Well, that's what ambergris really is.

Wait a minute. Keep quiet. Maybe I'm wrong. Could be it won't take that long. Two guys wearing headphones down by the other end just mouthed something.... called Franklin over. You could see from his face how important it was. The Old Patriot instantly stopped schmoozing all them potential immortality customers, turned his electric scooter around and tooled over for a look-see.

Tall guy with the headphones leans over and whispers - I hear old, classic Castillian. He's... he's saying something.......

That, it seems, is a very good sign, for the Old Reprobate smiles...

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IMMORTALITY IS A FLEETING THING---- Doctor Franklin Talks ... 6/30/14

He had a few of the ranking scientists in attendance over for chilled gin concoctions and conversation. Those in the speculative arts love to talk. And scientists are steeped in speculation. Indeed, the scientific theory itself demands it. Theory comes first and in a very real sense governs each and every subsequent step. We find what we set out to find, whether gun powder or God.

They sat in an eighteenth century salon.... brocade chairs... formal settees ... fine, fruitwood tables... handmade woolen rugs on oiled oak floors. A few are familiar with the place. Doctor Franklin's commodious residence beneath his storied 'Anti-Enchantment-Bureau is whispered about throughout the scientific/investigative world. Hitler sought alliance as early as '33, but the 'Bureau' ever a bulwark of new ideas and tolerance, only fed him lies. Most outsiders get half truths at best. Doctor Franklin was and is extremely particular that way.

He said - They're chanting along The Parkway. Some think it's a tie-in to Welcome America Week and all the Independence Day observances. But the young girls gathering outside the townhouse, beating ancient Celtic bodhrans and strumming classic Hebrew Harps are quite another thing. They drone on and on. They go - Tomas-Jonathon, Tomas-Jonathon, Tomas-Jonathon........... Another scientist went - Rah, rah, rah!........ Doctor Franklin said - No, this isn't funny. We have scientifically unacknowledged hominid primates roaming the streets. We have self described and in all honesty fairly effective witches working wonders outside coffee bars. And I don't know what those Red Paint People are doing.  You know how many out of town press people we have here this week?......... A different guest asked - Then why are you doing this? All the Grand Armonica posturing, entertaining as it is and all?........ Doctor Franklin sighed, thought for a moment and said - Because it's time. Because I want to. Look, I pressed for it in '47 during Roswell and all, but Truman wouldn't let me. Can you imagine, they 'changed' the story to a weather balloon!? I threatened to tell the Russians, or the French, anybody. But we didn't have our own dedicated reactors back then and he said he'd pull the plug. No, it's time. They have to know. Humanity, I mean. We inhabit a tiny part of an unbelievably immense cosmos. And not only that, we have abilities certain factions are desperate to stifle. No, this thing happens here. Extra, extra, read all about it, as they say....... Didn't you start that phrase back in your newspaper days? - someone asked.... Doctor Franklin studied him for a heartbeat or two and said -I started everything. Merlin to Washington's Arthur, if you will. There's a reason my picture's on the one hundred dollar bill. Those dumb bastards! Those God damned assholes! I should have been 'it!' I should have been the first!..... The Old Reprobate can get quite loud, bitter and vindictive at times.

No one said a word. A few nodded. Thank God for those chilled gin drinks. After a bit, a comely young girl, sent down from The Curtis Institute of Music began to play sprightly tunes on an authentic, hand painted harpsichord. Endearing Young Charms, I think it was. That calmed him down and he continued - Mortality is an illusion. We are all dead for eternity. We all live for eternity. Do you think when people pass to The World To Come, their still 'living' children aren't there with them, or that young, doomed children move on to a parentless reward? No, the Once and Only Diety responsible for all this is not so mean as that. Everything that is, was, or ever will be swirls through creation right now. We experience it sequentially because we're made that way.

Look, is your vampire friend, Tomas, really gonna come back? - a guest asked.... Franklin seemed to sink into himself. Then he nodded, grasped the arms of his chair and said - Yes. Maybe not in the same form. Maybe not in the same body. I don't know. How could I know? The basic principle is valid. You all saw the experiment with the goat. But I can't disregard the variables. You know his friend, the Piney 'witchy-woman' named Edith, says what I do here isn't even necessary. And she doesn't mean any disrespect. Just sure of her own talents and the talents of those around her. That's all. Magic-like science meets scientific magic. Come, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. Let's down these spirits and make for the 'clean room' ( large experimental space housing The Grand Armonica). We've a 'raising' to do.

So they did. The commodious salon was abandoned. The young girl at the harpsichord quietly gathered her sheet music and left. The domestic staff made quick work of any remaining spirits.

And the vampire, Tomas, also known as Jonathon, was already on his way... 

<more next time>

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A DEAD VAMPIRE PREPARES FOR BLAST OFF BACK TO THE LAND OF THE MORTALS ... 6/28/14

Please excuse my clerical skills. But I was never good with the ordenadoras or computadoras or whatever name you use to refer to them. That is why I got the Billy Kravitz to facilitate our communications with you. Besides, I am currently, legally within a heavenly state, or perhaps the vestabule one enters before passing on to the true heavenly state. 

The singularities of my spiritual being begin to tingle. I feel like a shaken bottle of Clicquot Club. The Old Woman used to drink it. Do any of you remember her? She hated Sarah, but loved Annie. But who cares, for she is dead now too (and permanently, I fear). I see her here dishing out hot lunches behind a steam table to formerly homeless dead gentlemen, who still apparently relish those things. She makes like she doesn't know me. I say - Hello, do you remember our chill, North Atlantic passage all those generations ago? Snow covered deck chairs by icy moon glow... how positively surreal..... She (who looks like Mrs. Beazley, the lunch lady in Archie comics) just chews the same huge wad of gum she's been working since she died and ignores me. Scooping out Beefaroni for eternity. My God, her apron's filthy.

I suppose, when the time comes and I re gain my mortal coil I won't be a life-eater (vampire) anymore. If so. If I am right, the first thing I'll do is go to one of those all-you-can-eat Chinese Style buffets and see what Billy Kravitz was always talking about. 

I hope they put me in a nice body and would very much appreciate it if the flesh in question still wears the same size clothes as I. Edith has them. They're packed away in the townhouse.

Why are they allowing me to return? It feels like they are. Am I worthy? Is this a punishment, or a gift? Whenever I pass close to an angel and ask, they just stare off into the distance and smile. 

Sometimes the thought of donning new flesh scares me... Sometimes I want to stay here, learn Sanskrit and become personal human relations muse to Angelina Jolie.

Sometimes I don't even know what I want...

<more next time>

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Bring Him Home ( 6/25/14)~~> THE RETURN OF TOMAS, inspired by ~~>, Les Misérables - Alfie Boe and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

They tested it with a goat. Doctor Franklin hated to do it, but that's how it's done. They always test with a goat. He climbed the stair to a platform by the north end of the Armonica (his huge, harmonic device) and placed the small, neat, almost unicorn-like creature in the polished bronze casket. It bleated once or twice. No one made a sound. Pin Head Mel wanted to clap, but Horsey Skeezix leaned over and whispered - It's not a show..... The technical staff and agents assembled in the 'clean room' were familiar with it all.  Some of them helped formulate the procedure. But it was a special thing even so. Another functionary put something into the bronze casket at the south end. I think it was ambergris. The Anti-Enchantment Bureau has a relationship with the Lords of the Sea (the great whales) via the merfolk, so they get all the ambergris they want. When not engaged in medical investigations, Luna makes boutique batches of exceptional fragrances and perfumes with it. Various First Ladies of The Land and a few queens too covet the small, jewel-like bottles of 'Enchantment' (named after The Bureau) and 'Eventide' (recalling her adopted vampire nature). But we're talking about something different. The huge apparatus has to work. Movement from the flesh to the spirit and hopefully back again too must take place. So Doctor Franklin climbed down from the platform and took his place at the rather Jules Verne-like control panel. Large levers, looking more like fittings in old pubs and taprooms were adjusted and 'played' with a practiced virtuosity. All eyes were on him and the old reprobate enjoyed the attention. Indeed, he dressed for it. Gone was the emerald green Eagles attire... the sweatshirts during winter... the tee-shirts in the hot months. On this occasion, Doctor Franklin wore modern recreations of eighteenth century garb.... black, light wool knee britches.... fine, sea isle cotton stockings.... handmade kidskin slippers with brilliant, silver buckles and a white 'blouse' (that's what they called them then) to gladden the heart of any pirate king or weekending country squire.  Franklin was always vain. 



Back to the technical side ---- Soon the large, heavy, crystal discs (in graduated sizes) began to hum and turn... each kept moist by momentary passes through a shallow pan of specially formulated, super fine oil (also furnished by the whales). Rubber mallets, operated from the console, came up to 'kiss' the crystal rims and make them sing, giving out with a sound resembling  whale songs. 



Then everything began to vibrate, sending tickling undulations through all in attendance. Most enjoyed the sensation. A few giggled. And it's believed some unwitting people in adjacent parts of South Philadelphia got 'tickled' too. I wonder what they thought?



But those with keen ears heard the goat. The terrified animal screamed like a human baby. Steam rose from the ambergris filled, polished bronze casket at the other end and a few of those in attendance experienced involuntary acts of public urination, sometimes curtesy of a a too-close, giddy neighbor.



Seconds later the lights went out, not an electrical failure. The current was normal. But certain coordinated vibrations just do that. Ambient energy is transformed. That which was light is 'somewhere else.' Even Doctor Franklin doesn't understand all the details. A few members of the local clergy acquainted with The Anti-Enchantment Bureau have theories, however Doctor Franklin says we can't share them (now anyway) due to confidentiality agreements and other things. 



Then frost began to appear on the outer surface of the one with the goat inside. It was visible because the light was back. Not from any existing fixture, but from the air itself. Look, who knows? Maybe it wasn't from the air. Maybe it came from the 'ether,' that unknown, universal substance occupying every physical point and actually infinite in nature since there's no limit to how small each point can be. Soon after, the 'real' lights came on.... and an ethereal image of a small, neat, white, unicorn-like goat pranced out through the side of the polished, bronze casket set up at the north end of the Grand Armonica. Everyone gasped. Pin Head Mel clapped. No one corrected him, as the little animal 'translated' to another state appeared to bleat, though none could hear it. A few heartbeats later it tip-toed down the steps, walked 'cross the room and disappeared through a wall into a lunchroom or someplace like that. For an instant the 'clean room' was quiet, then everyone began to cheer. Doctor Franklin brushed away tears. He missed Tomas, also known as Jonathon, too. A lot of beings did. But now they knew. There was an excellent chance the much loved vampire would be back.



And the message from Edith, relayed by Horsey Skeezix and Pin Head Mel a few nights before spoke of events on the outside. Strange beings were beginning to assemble. Witches gathered in the Norman Castle-like, City Hall courtyard. Red Paint People began to walk the pathways of Rittenhouse Square, chanting songs sung since The Ice Age. And 'people' as yet unidentified streamed up from the subway near Sixteenth and Locust. I guess they rode the Patco Line in from New Jersey. Perhaps they came from The Pines?..... Elferinos and elferinas were seen flitting about the city too. Some cried. Some did not. All were serious. Regular, boring, plain humans didn't know what to make of it. Kids strolling South Street (where all the hippies meet) stopped representatives of the slightly smaller, more gracile, in from The Pines, Mid-Atlantic Bigfoot variant for autographs. But Bigfeet don't write (although they are known to scrawl doodles in the dirt), so what they got were mostly obscene representations of hominid genitals. But the kids didn't care. You know how kids are.



'War wagons,' industry jargon for TV news vans blossomed all over town. It was already on line. You could see it on You Tube, even Twitter.



Was it easy to explain? No... but it was real.



Tomas is coming back?



<more next time.... click on OLDER POSTS for parts of the story you may have missed>



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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ISOLATION ........... 12/31/13 Here's a good OUTER LIMITS type treatment you might like...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: ISOLATION ........... 12/31/13: The Russian steppes go on forever.... endless vistas of tussock and tundra... no trees... just horizon... a sea that doesn't move. Huma... Click on this and see the whole story. An eighty year old abandoned, moldering Stalinist research complex.... all alone out on the vast Eurasian steppes... Mother Russia has secrets... Oh, the vampire-oligarch, Grigori Usipov comes back too... Human-ape crossbreeds... Strange, tragic experimental victims.... 



Come and see... And if you want, scroll down, or click NEWER POST (down below) and read it all.



Some things never die...



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THIS TIME IT'S REALLY HAPPENING ... 6/24/14

They walked into the city. Red Paint People and heretofore unseen preternatural creatures from The New Jersey Pine Barrens.  Maybe from other places too. But around here, The Pine Barrens is like 'monster central.' Not 'monster.' I just said that for expediency sake, 'cause I wanted the words to flow. Witches are coming too. Mostly the 'trained' variety. Born witches are too iffy. You saw MALEFICENT. you know. Some might come, but I don't know who. 

Horsey Skeezix and Pin Head Mel run around the complex like maniacs.  They say they feel the vibes. The Jersey Devil kid also says whatever's going on compels him to eat buggers. Just his own. He thinks that makes it OK.  Doctor Franklin stays away from them. Luna, the vampire- physician watches them. She's not a physician for vampires, but rather a physician who later became a vampire. Does medical work for The Bureau. The Sea Hag (an old, gnarled mermaid residing in the strange specimen wing) loves her. They eat Creamsicles together. SeaHag dips her's in little pieces of minced squid and Luna spits hers out, but it's how they bond. 

Horsey Skeezix rocks back and forth and quietly chants - The Jew Vampire's comin' back. The Jew Vampire's comin' back..... Luna says - Stop that. It doesn't sound right. (she once loved him. not the jersey devil kid. tomas, also known as jonathon, the jew vampire, I mean). But 'Horsey' don't listen. Just keeps rockin' and cackling. Now it's easy to keep Pin Head Mel quiet. They gave him a big jar of Vlasic Kosher Pickles. He likes the salty, crunchy, vinegar taste. Sloshes it all over. But look. This is The anti-Enchantment Bureau. They got people to clean everything, even Bigfoot shit. 

So there was going to be like a flash mob. They'd never call it that. Edith would never use that word. She has a lot of words for it. But I think the one she'd pick would be 'affirmation.' This is gonna be an affirmation. Beings ... all types of beings, would show themselves out on the street and ask for Tomas' return. They'd ask for his restoration. People would see them. They'd see the Jersey Devil families and the slightly more gracile variant of Mid-Atlantic Bigfoot. Merfolk would swim up the estuary and congregate just off Penn's Landing. Red Folk People would chant their age old chants. Oh, it's gonna be a big thing. Probably a few vampires too. And I don't mean just the Philadelphia contingent. 

While inside, deep within the vast, subterranean 'clean room,' Doctor Franklin prepares his Grand Armonica... a huge apparatus consisting of a monumental polished bronze, horizontal rod supporting increasingly thick and impressive sparkling, crystal discs, the largest more than twenty four feet in diameter. Each carefully bored through the center like giant forty five RPM records. You know the classic baby toy with all the colored, plastic doughnuts stacked on a vertical pole? Well, that's what it's like, only horizontal. There's more to it. I'll get 'techie' some other time.

And on the other side of the spiritual bar, Tomas, also known as Jonathon, feels the pull. Each and every singularity of his being zings with a strange, new energy. It wouldn't be accurate to talk about atoms, because spiritual beings aren't made from atoms. But there is a non corporal cognate and thus we say 'singularities.'

Others notice. A woman sharing a small paper sack of roasted sunflower seeds with Johnny Carson says - Yo, kid (Tomas does look eighteen) what's the matter with you?.... Tomas just shrugs. He suspects, but doesn't know for sure. Dead people know a lot, but they don't know everything. 

Nor would they want to.

<more next time..... I think you can google Doctor Franklin 's Grand Armonica for more information>

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