THE SOON TO BE RECREATED VAMPIRE JONATHON CONTINUES HIS MORTAL EXPLORATIONS .. 12/16/14

I still like exploring the city, but minus life-eater talents and abilities, cannot do it unaided. So they send me out with a driver. One of our 'familiars' (mortal helpers) owns a livery service. Generations ago, that meant horses. Today, it means automobiles, mostly limousines or luxury models. Think I'm in a big, long Cadillac with a mirror-like ebony finish and thick, soft, saddle, colored upholstery. The drivers name is Frank. He usually takes gamblers to Atlantic City, but tonight he has me. He knows the situation, so we're fine. 

We stopped at the bank. They know me there. We give them little vials of our blood. So nobody ever has a sick day and even Miss Brody, who's sixty seven looks perhaps fifty four. Everybody wants something. Everybody gets something. I withdrew seventy five thousand dollars, fifteen 'flats' of five thousand each. All the bills were hundreds, neatly wrapped in clean, white, paper bands. I offered Frank one, but he said his boss takes care of him. We did stop at a high end optical salon, where he ordered two pair of glasses. You know the frames. Ashton Kutcher has them. George Clooney too, I think. Tony Curtis wore them in Some Like It Hot. Four hundred and fifty five dollars a pair, not counting the lenses. The examination didn't take long. Then we went the shoe store where I get my black, leather bootkins. I love that place. Bespoke (made to order) footwear is so special. My new body, though overwhelmingly the same as my old one, is slightly different. Now my left foot is twelve and my right one is eleven and three quarters. Left one's slightly wider as well. First time that shop has ever updated my 'lasts.' Old Mr. Baldwin greeted me when I entered. That's how close this body is. Looks a bit older, late twenties instead of eighteen. Though the difference is really very subtle and when I transform, the vampire blood will polish things up even more. I'm not worried. We are so much more than a physical shell... This from someone slaving with a trainer three hours a day....

Then the real night began. This close to Christmas shops close at ten or eleven. People disappear, leaving manikins all alone to stare out at ghostly thoroughfares. But after a bit other souls come out and that's who we helped. A woman with swollen ankles trudged by pushing a shopping cart laden with two over stuffed trash bags. Her coat was flimsy. Really a rain slicker. Not a coat. No warm socks. Just old, white leather sneakers. The kind meant for summer. You know how thin the soles are. She quietly sang a little song----- I got joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart, down in my heart.... Basically a good, guileless soul. .... I exited the car and walked toward her. She looked up, but didn't react. Street people know how to blend into the shadows. I could tell she was nervous. I didn't want her to be nervous. As we passed, I reached into a small, black, plastic bag I had, took out two flats and tossed them on top of the trash bags in her cart. She looked... Ten thousand dollars, nestled on two filled trash bags. I whispered - Put it away.... She said - Uh hum. ... I kept going and she kept going... Heard her whisper - Thank you...

Gave a skinny, shivering guy sitting on the steps of the old Second Bank of The United States a similar amount. He was shaking so bad. Then I took him into a waffle house and sat him in a booth toward the back. He didn't look too disheveled. Probably expert at washing up in public bathrooms and grabbing charity clothes from shelters. Still looked cold though. Told the manager, who looked like an ex-con himself, to give him all the hot coffee he wanted and eggs and pancakes too. Slipped him a couple hundred. He understood. I said - Let him stay til morning. He won't bother you.... Then I bought a couple newspapers from boxes out front and gave them to the skinny guy, so he'd have something to read... Before I left, I said - Watch your money... The guy nodded like his head was gonna fall off. Gave the waitress a hundred too.... She said - Jesus Christ! what's this for?!..... But I just left. Met Frank at the corner. Drove around for a few hours doing the same thing. Nothing new. Most 'noble' vampires do this. Sarah does it. Baylah does it. We all do. Noble just means moral vampires, as opposed to the 'noxious' more animal type.

Before he took me home I gave Frank a flat too. He didn't want to take it. Told me about his boss and all. I said - Come on. Buy presents for your kids. Boss ain't gone to know... He hesitated, but then accepted it, thanking me for the Hanukah Gelt. Frank's a good guy. Knows about the vampires and all. Knows I'm a Spanish Jew. Thinks we all say , 'Hanukah gelt.' I didn't say anything. He meant well. 

Then I was home. Sarah was already in bed. Edith was too. Left a little light on over the sink, like she always does, plus a couple battery powered candles on the mantle piece. House was quiet.

I cut off a piece of that new Asiago cheese I liked from the refrigerator, went back into the family room, sat down and clicked on the television... Deepak Chopra told me to find my inner self.

Little ghost boy from the cellar came up to keep me company. Sometimes I read to him... He likes that.

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A SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF THE MIRACULOUS AND CAN-CAN DANCERS ... Jonathon Speaks.. 12/15/14

It is, I, Jonathon. I'm still mortal... for a little while. They got me a trainer to pump my up before the eternal transformation. Want to be my best before I 'assume the burden.' Not that I was in bad shape last time. Far from it. But vampires are vain. You know that. And if I 'can,' I 'will.'
The guy's from California. Had a place in Malibu. Jumps around like a dancer. Yells - Yes! Yes! Yes! and No! No! No!. ..Grabs my arms and legs... Twists them into the right positions. Cracks my back. That parts alright. Core's tighter. That I know. Got a six pack, a v-cut, deltoids, pecs, the whole package... Well, that he can't alter. 

We use a little room in the basement. They put black, rubber, lego-looking squares on the floor. White walls. Two big mirrors. Grey ceiling. Florescent lights. Benches. Towels. An institutional press-the-button-ice-water-fountain. No good to vampires. Life-eater forms are static.... like living statues. Three weeks, just after The Trinitarian New Year and I'll be ready. Excuse the medieval terminology, but we had so many new years in old Al Andalus... Got a keep them all straight. 

Edith feeds me special meals. No real calorie restrictions. High protein. Low carb. And this body they got me was in good shape to begin with. Belonged to a model, for God's sake. Wait a minute. What time is it? Got to eat a piece of cheese. <represents a snack break> Asiago ... never had it before. For three weeks I eat like an athlete and then it's thick, hot, red, beefy, salty, blood. Thin broths and certain alcoholic beverages are alright, from time to time. And I will be able to chew and swallow most of a regular meal, provided there's someplace where I can throw it all up. Sometimes vampires get cornered and have to but on a show. And I've been told I'm quite an actor. Once, in eighteen eighty three, I think it was, the actor cast as Mercrutio in an Arch Street Theater production on Romeo and Juliet got himself accidentally  eviscerated by a pack of dogs. Jo-Jo's Dancing Hounds... Not exactly timber-wolves... Standard poodles, I think they were... Warmed up the audience before the show. ... Actor was supposed to pretend he was a regular ticket holder... Climb up on stage and jump rope with them... But he had liverwurst for lunch.... Big heavy soup spoons filled with liverwurst... Smeared it all over thick slabs of rye bread... Onions too, I think... And that Jo-Jo was a real drunk. Never fed the dogs... Ran away from The French Foreign Legion. They had these islands up off the coast of Labrador or New Foundland. Fisherman lived there... Fisherman and legionnaires and narwhals and can-can dancers. It's freezing up there. ... Snuck down one winter. How much poutine  can you eat? Did they have poutine back then? Vampires don't know from that.

Dogs start barking and licking him, the actor, I mean... You know he was belching... kept belching... Fellow up front starts hollering - PEE YEW, you bum ! Everybody starts clapping. Actor does a little dance, 'cause he's a drunk too and likes to be the center of attention. Falls and cracks his head on a little, metal ladder (some of the dogs play firemen... like clown firemen... you know what I'm talking about). Dogs swarm all over him, licking everywhere. People laughing. Jo-Jo wants to pull them off, but they don't want to stop. Start growling. Start biting. Start ripping. People think it's part of the show, 'cause they had ghoulish productions back then.... Edwin Booth... I knew him, you know.... Had to drop the curtain, shoot the dogs and drag the corpse away. Shot Jo-Jo too, just for being such a God damned bastard. Show business was rough back then. Everybody knows that. Audience didn't mind, 'cause they got bags of Carson's Lemon Drops.  Cops didn't like it. Boss slipped  them each six ducats to The Flora Dora Girls . Promised not to shoot people no more, even bastards. Cops said - OK.

That night, after they cleaned up with sand and sawdust and bay rum and all, we went on.....

Excuse me. You know I never ramble, but that dietary regimen seems to have put me into ketosis. Once I'm a vampire it will sort itself out...

Doctor Franklin wants to study the whole procedure. Wants Sarah to do it. Thinks every magical occurrence is just an unobserved chemical or quantum reaction... sometimes both. Wants to hook us up to a lot of sensors.  Stick tubes in us. Collect Higgs-Boson particles. Shave our nether regions. I don't know. A lot of stuff is involved. (momentarily focuses) What's he have to shave our nether regions for??? That make sense to you? 

Think there's some Stella D'Oro almond toast in the kitchen. I'm gonna have some. 

Screw the trainer.

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?...POST REVEL NIGHTS IN LO...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?...POST REVEL NIGHTS IN LO...: In many ways, The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn is only a name 'borrowed' by various associations aspiring to some form of meta... OK, here's where we start exploring magic.. not the evil kind, but the age-old harnessing of universal forces. Who knows? Maybe it's actually just a subset of Quantum Mechanics? This 'Do You Believe In Magic' post from ten months ago is a good refresher. Please visit. Scroll up and down a bit. All references based on real magical organization. So get your aural hum going. Rev up your own enchanted batteries. 



We're gonna need a lot of 'adepts' when Jonathon re-assumes 'The Burden' and goes vampire again.



Plus planning to try some telepathic experiments of our own. Who knows? You may be discovered. That little 'light' of yours, you better let it shine...



Click on the link to the original post above. As you know, these red letters are only an intro. 



Manipulating the ether can be fun...



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Everything is Everywhere, Magic Is Just How We Access And Control It... 12.11/14

JOHANNON speaks ~~~

I hover in the ether above the townhouse observing pedestrians during the daylight hours. Few come down this way. There are no commercial establishments. Indeed, most of the residences have long been swallowed by shops and bistros facing the other way. The townhouse is but a break in a vast brick wall broken here and there by rather wide sets of green painted metal doors opened only for early morning deliveries. There are two other townhouse facades on the block. One on 'our' side and another across the narrow street. The first belongs to a ninety year old recluse, supposedly the illegitimate offspring of George Burns and Madame Curie. The second shelters a delightfully crazy puppeteer known for corpse-like marionettes made from wooden dowels and bratwurst. Monkey skulls serve for heads. He's very fickle, but Topsy (a dog) doesn't mind, for she 'murders' the rejects.

I can feel the energy. But all disembodied spirits can to that. You'll see. Death will teach you. Occasionally kids cut through, on their way to trendy shops given to zippers and leather and more zippers and more leather, toward South Street.  Sometimes they run through after the clubs, heading for Jim's Steaks (sandwiches), or some other savory mouthful. I see their auras. I know their souls. The daytime wanderers are different... quiet, homeless types drifting about.... nervous, part time,  lovers speeding toward clandestine assignations.  They keep their auras close.

'Ghosts' (I hate that word, but use it for expedience sake) are made of energy. Mortals are too. What you feel as solid surface is but an electrical field spanning neurons and protons and whatever other particles they discover. Even the nuclear particles are bit denser manifestations of the same elusive sparks. Some say we are self-aware dreams. But they, themselves are only dreamers. 

Certain personalities are sculptors. Not of wood, clay, or stone, but reality. They manipulate the ether and all that dances in it. Of such is magic. Everything is everywhere. Yet only some can see that and even fewer can touch it. They that can are magicians. And their like have walked among us since the beginning. 

I've been dead, or 'in the spirit' as we say for more than nine hundred years. I follow Jonathon and protect him. When he was 'alive' I did the same. But sometimes I drift and taste other things. Let me share a bit.....

There was an artisan's daughter in Toulouse. Her father, a lapidary fashioned decorative clasps and cloak pins for the wives of powerful land owners, made with the finest jade and cinnabar brought from far off Cathay, Serendip and Abyssinia. The daughter lived with him in a stout stone cottage, hard by the town wall. Theirs was a fine establishment with sleeping cubicles above and a proper hall below... even an atelier. Thick, warm woolens from Norman-held Britain stopped drafts and carpets flown up (or so they said) from various Iberian sultanates and principalities softened floors. There were carved, wooden chests and wide, cushioned benches from cantons in The Alps. They had meat most every night and soap from The Eastern Roman Empire. The daughter wore costly attire, but like others of her caste was forbidden certain headdresses flaunted by high-born noble ladies. And the same chevaliers (knights) who bowed low to aristocratic damsels on the streets, or in the marketplace, appraised the lapidary's daughter and others of similar estate like heifers. Her only recourse after ordeals like that came from beating the kitchen girl or berating the housekeeper. Everyone needs to vent.

One day there was a festival, just prior to the Christmas Market. Magnates' daughters, accompanied by nurses and attendants sailed through stalls like royal galleys, snatching up all manner of luxury before females of lesser birth, whether moneyed or not, had a chance. Most took it philosophically. According to their culture, position is God ordained. Resistance is futile. And they made do with somewhat coarser fare.

But the lapidary's daughter was proud and would not bend. She reached for a cunning, little, pot of balm, only to have her hand soundly rapped by a spoiled fil de comte up from the Occitan.. The merchant shouted - Be off, cow! See you not this noble lady!?..... And the girl in question eyed her contemptuously. Market guards grabbed the lapidary's daughter and threw her in the mud. Had she been less than that, they'd have publicly bared her nether regions and beaten her buttocks raw. Such was life in that place, among those people at that time.

Now remember, magicians are they who manipulate energy and matter.... a talent open to all, regardless of caste. And the lapidary's daughter moved dust motes in the sun and flower petals 'cross a table. She knew she could do that. The housekeeper, possessed of a few spells (why do you think the lapidary's wife died so young?) questioned her and told a wise woman of the town. But the daughter would have none of it for fear of the Church. Fire is a wonderful deterrent.

Though that day, in the market, she let loose, spewing forth every foul word she knew. The aristocrats just laughed. A hateful, little toady of a merchant dumped a bucket of slop over her head. All waited for the next pathetic barrage. But the lapidary's daughter grew quiet and still. Then she looked up under hooded brows, locking eyes with the offending maiden, who froze on the spot. Witnesses backed away, as the ground began to vibrate and hum. Perhaps four heartbeats later, the mud began to bubble and pop, as all manner of loathsome, crawling thing escaped from the noxious fecal mess, rising into the air before swirling into a maelstrom, the nexus of which positioned itself just above the young lady's opened mouth. For an instant all was still. Then the horrific, miniature whirlwind narrowed, till every last crawling monstrosity zipped through her lips and down to her belly.

For a moment she seemed startled, til she began to spin, fast as a top. Her skirts flew out, mimicking the as yet undiscovered rings of Saturn, as the insects and worms began to manically feast on all parts of her body from the inside out. Those too close were bathed in a gruesome spray. When it was over, they found the bones screwed deep into the ground. Her attendants were nowhere to be seen and no one claimed the remains.

Of such is magic. Of such is enchantment.

They who we call 'vampires' bear but one manifestation.

And Jonathon soon returns to their number.

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THE TICKING OF THE CLOCKS .... Jonathon talks ... 12/9/14

I like this house. So different from what we had in Spain. I liked that too. But this one feels especially right. I've shared before. You know. Old, Philadelphia townhouses have an atmosphere. Time passes, yet the house stays the same. Oh, we do have various components of modernity. There's the large, flat television above the hearth in the family room. And Edith likes the 'professional quality' appliances in the flagstone paved kitchen. 'Stainless steel'.... You know we had that in Spain. The metal, I mean. But they used it mostly for swords.

I don't know how many people are here now. I've lost track. Obviously Sarah and I are here... Edith. There might have been one or two more. I can't remember. Doctor Franklin says my procedure could of caused that. I want to be a life-eater again. But they tell me to wait. Any weakness or infirmity I take over with me might hamper my abilities forever. You see, I was a very strong vampire. So I'll wait, for I want to be that way again. 

There's a little library here.... wood floor... braided rug... polished table.... They say the built-in book cases come from an even older, seventeenth century place off Elfreth's Alley. I think I know the house. I saw it go up. Such books we have... Old, original, leather bound editions of DeFoe... Shakespeare too. Not First Folio, but very early. I spend hours in there, snug in a wing chair shoved in a corner. The heavy, green, velvet draperies (a tradition in Philadelphia libraries) keep it so warm during the winter. 

We walked by the shop last night. We went by the cramped, little bookstore. Sarah was so proud of it. Imagine, 'Philadelphia After Dark'--- a bookshop for the evening trade. That's what the sign said and under the word 'hours' came - We open with the gloaming and close up with the dawn..... That's where I found her. Sarah, I mean..... A wall of clocks... She sat behind an old wood counter... came from a tavern. Such a cozy place. Devoted clientele. A familiar keeps it going. The man buzzes people in now. People slip a plastic membership card in a special slot. Can't be too safe....

I wanted to go in. Sarah didn't. But she looked through the old, bay window for a good long time. Then we went back. I know she took a victim that night. Once a month. She keeps her vows.... 'cull the wicked' and all that. I don't know who it was..... Do I remember what it's like, taking a victim and all? Of course I do. How can you ask such a thing?

Edith gave me a nice piece of cake when we got in. She cooks. She bakes. She throws spells. Good folk singer too. Plays a zither. I sat in the library with my cake and an old copy of THE AGE OF INNOCENCE. I like that book. Met Wharton once. Talent, but no heart. Tells a good story though. 

Didn't hear Sarah come in. But I could smell the death on her. Please don't think we use coffins. It's easy to seal up a bedroom with shades and curtains and shutters and all. Whores do it all the time.

Oh, God, I want to be a vampire again.

Sarah's trying to find 'Papa' and all. Baylah helps her.

He did it the first time.

You know how it is...

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EVERYTHING IS EVERYWHERE ... Johannon Talks... 12/7/14

A FORTNIGHT LATER~~~

He walked with Sarah. The rain had stopped. It was cold and windy. Jonathon was still weak. She made sure he dressed warmly. Edith (for she was back too) made him a muffler and in the way of her people, in the way of The Pines, she prayed over every stitch. Sarah put it on him.  All is as it was. The townhouse was ready. Loyal 'familiars' saw to that. The floors were buffed. The rugs were cleaned. Even the windows sparkled. And you know how hard it is to engage residential window cleaners this time of year. Edith bought candles, the green apple kind vampires like. True, Jonathon was still mortal, but he noticed and he thanked her. 

Now they passed through the narrow streets he loved so well. Sarah held his hand and put it in her pocket. Jonathon said - I like the air and the wind and the damp. I like all of it. ..... Sarah said - I'm glad. And do you like the food? Edith wants you to gain weight..... Jonathon whispered - I like the food. The first I've had since (he exhales and thinks) the year they call ten ninety seven. Forty eight fifty eight by my reckoning. You know, I always refer to myself as 'one thousand years old.' But I'm not. I'm only nine hundred and thirty five, or there about. ..... She squeezed his hand and said - Oh, so young.

Then they went by Head House Square, an old, long, red brick, market pavilion going back centuries. It was empty now. Three thirty in the morning. Clubs and taverns closed ninety minutes ago. But the diners and coffee shops were still open. So they turned onto South Street and made for a place that had good omelets. Jonathon liked it there. He usually sat in the back nursing a mug of tea. He liked hot tea.  This time he'd have a little bit more. 

The waitress knew them. She didn't know about the vampire part, but she knew. She knew there was some special quality, some elusive difference. They helped her once when her little daughter was sick. Doctors and hospitals would only do so much. Her insurance, such as it was, wouldn't pay them any more. So she took the little girl home one night and bought her the doll she'd always wanted. Then, as her mother was watching over the child, she sat outside, on the low, white, marble steps and had a cigarette. While she thought, or tried to think, Jonathon and Sarah came by. The vampirino said - What's wrong, Joann (for that was her name)? Why are you shaking?...... The waitress told him. She said she'd been everywhere and tried everything..... Jonathon sat down by her and quietly answered. He said - Everything is everywhere..... Now the waitress was puzzled by those words. But Sarah knew. It was his way of saying nothing is impossible, or almost nothing. 

The next morning a package arrived, delivered by a 'familiar.' As he was neatly dressed and well spoken, the grandmother accepted it. She took in inside and opened it, finding what looked like a genuine pharmaceutical parcel. Then she ran next door and asked a neighbor lady to read the directions and explain it all to her, for the grandmother was born in another land and had not sufficient knowledge of the language. Well, the prescribing physician's name was right. The pharmacy was right. It all seemed so proper. She tried to call her daughter. She phoned the diner. Upon hearing the particulars, the waitress was shocked. Maybe he did it? Maybe the doctor came through? The pills... The medicine... Seven hundred dollars a capsule.... That's it. He did it. He sent it. And in her heart she blessed him for righteousness not his own.

Five capsules. Five shiny red capsules. One each day with her evening meal. So the grandmother made the tuna croquette and the macaroni and cheese and brought it up. There was applesauce for the medicine. She carefully opened the capsule (the instructions said she could do that) and mixed in the glittering dark red crystals. No one ever suspected it was vampire blood, whether Sarah's or Jonathon's is immaterial. Vampires, moral vampires, aren't like that. But, thank God, the little girl lived and got well. Small infusions of night-folk blood can work miracles.

Help is all around us. Solutions may be elusive, but you can find them.

Everything is everywhere.

The townhouse has been made right. And Jonathon, though in an ever so slightly altered form, is back.

Call me Johannon. We've spoken before. And I have returned to this place too.

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Tomas Watches Peter Pan on TV and Recounts Le Avventure di Fauno .. 12/5/14

He woke up. Tomas was awake. Not completely. Still a bit drowsy. But he knew his name and he knew where he was. Sarah was with him when it happened. The television was on. No, sound, but it was on. Peter Pan. A nurse did it. Sarah didn't care. She just sat and dozed. They gave her a carafe, not a whole one, more like a half, of some kind of white wine. But she didn't want it. Guy who brought it in meant well. She thanked him. 

Tomas noticed the tv screen. Saw Peter Pan fly, or something like that. Gave her a half smile and said - Fauno. Le avventure di Fauno..... Sarah said - What, Tomas? What did you say?..... He said - I know the story.... Then he drifted off again. He closed his eyes, but continued to whisper......

When I first come into this. El mundo vampirido, I mean. There was a place, some woods. I don't know where, but the people spoke Italian. Like an old Italian. Dante, la lingua di Dante. I know it. Not like I know Old Spanish, or Vahmperigo, or... the other (trembles) 'talks' I know. The girl, the skinny boy-girl they got dancing around on the television, she is the Fauno, il Fauno. Very big famous star of many stories. You tell me. You tell me. I am mortal, or vampirino?

Sarah inhaled and said - You are mortal, Tomas..... He says - Why do you call me that name? I am not Tomas. I am Jonathon ben Macabi. Not Tomas..... Sarah guessed he remembered the earliest parts of his life first. Doctor Franklin and the others said that would happen. He always vacillated between the two names anyway. That's how it was in Europe. In one town you can be a Jew. It was alright. Not easy, but they don't kill you. Next town, they kill you maybe. So people have inside names and outside names. They all do it. Not just the Jews. You travel. You go out on the roads. They stick a big pin in your neck. Not a pin. More like a skinny spike. Vein, or artery, or whatever you got bust open. Blood shoot out, or squirt  down your throat and you die. They take your money. They rape your wife. They sell your children. If they don't wanna feed no children til they sell them, they throw them down a well. Not a wet well, a dry well. Head smash open. Neck break. No more that kid. It was a custom. Then, after wife all raped up, they throw her too. You know it is not good to separate a mama from her children? Everybody knows that. So people got a home name and a road name. Road name make them look like a big shot. Like a gentleman. Got a fancy cloak. Got a scroll, got a parchment from some bishop. Says you helping the bishop. All stamped. Red wax and everything. Only you got a brother-in-law make it up for you. Some bastards scared to kill big shots. They take the money, but you live. Everybody lied back then. Nobody likes getting killed.

Who am I? Well, let me tell you. I am a disembodied spirit. We narrate from time to time. If you know this story, you know us. We got Johannon and Zebulon and Mister Never-You-Mind. Got other ones too. Right now, you don't have to know my name.

Jonathon wants to be vampirino again. He dreams about it. Thought it happened already. But that was just an illusion while he was dead. Dead folks think of all kinds a crazy shit. They don't know. Angel go - Yo, asshole! Shut up! You in Heaven already! They don't know. They scared.

Jonathon watches the show. He goes - Why he fly like that? Il Fauno don't fly like that. He go fast. He go smooth. He go high.

Sarah says - It's a story. That's not real. Il Fauno is an elferino (pubescent vampire), yes?..... Jonathon nods. He smiles. He likes the story.

Sarah gets up and sits on the side of his bed. She kiss his hand.... He says - I like you. You a nice lady..... She says - And I like you a lot too.

Little by little he gets better.

When the funny pirate-man dance around he laughs

Sarah laughs too...

<more next time>

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