Jonathon takes the book, puts it on a small desk and gently runs his hands over the ancient, hand tooled surface. Then he quietly closes and locks the door, turns off the little overhead fixture and sits down to read by the focused light of a boudoir sized table lamp. He loves the warm, confines of the space. The library is his favorite room. And La Ciencia Vampirismo is his most treasured volume, a medieval text compiled in Spain during the last days of La Convivencia , that special time when Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together in something approaching harmony.
He whispered a prayer and opened it. Some say he made this copy, or contributed toward its creation. The calligraphy, in Old Castilian, Hebrew and Arabic is quite beautiful and the illuminated border of flowers and vines (with tiny, little black and gold bees) is, after all these centuries, incredibly vivid and alive.
Jonathon likes bees. Nocturnal creatures rarely see them, but he remembers. They had an apiary when he was little.... three hives to be exact, stocked with plump, furry honey-makers from up in Galicia. Gentle creatures they were... an old strain dating back to the Romans. Stings were few and far between. Jonathon brought them flowers. Not that they couldn't find their own, but his blooms, in small clay pots, had a sweet, fresh perfume and lots of thick, amber nectar. Rina, the kitchen girl, said the bees used it to bake tiny cakes for their young ones.... Can they do that? - he asked. For the idea of industrious, insect bakers seemed like magic to him. Rina said that they could and forever after Jonathon believed in the fantastic..... more than believed. He lived it.
Odd, the recollections a vampire has. But La Ciencia Vampirismo is an unusual text and readers often see words that are not there.
Jonathon turned the page (fine, creamy vellum). Where the former sheet had the title surrounded by that famous border, this one featured a large, stylized number one, drawn in a more or less Arabic manner, though at the same time favoring a stylized flamingo. Whether those birds were known in the Iberia of that day is a mystery, but they were in 'La Ciencia...' Beneath the bird-one was a phrase --- Never be defined by thine enemies..... A line, considering the times and the first inkling of organized, inquisitional sentiment and thought, obviously penned by a vampire. Some of you may know that up until The Inquisition, vampires were often seen as tragic, positive creatures. A base, judgmental age changed that, fashioning a more evil and gothic 'Doctor Polidori' take on those beings.
Soon the enchantment would start. Soon the book would work its famous magic. Insights would float up from the page. Jonathon would see things and gain knowledge. His feelings of impending prophesy from a few episodes ago, would be fleshed out and he'd know what was coming.
Sunday nights... late nights, I mean, are very peaceful and special in the townhouse. Edith softly knocked. Jonathon, cognizant of her rhythms said - Come in.... she brought him tea. He rose from the desk and sat down on one of the settees to drink it, lest it spill and ruin the book.
But he looked at the opened tome resting there on the desk in that small pool of light and saw tiny, diaphanous figures rise up from the page and dance about. Some favored Berber mountain girls, others eastern odalisques... a few suggested birds that quickly flew off and disappeared.
That's when he fell asleep and began to dream....
In the beginning, he was a toddler eating honey cakes made with honey from their very own bees and making a sticky mess.....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click - BEE HIVE ... to peruse more Vampire Wonderland... click - HONEY CAKES ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. thank you.
Jonathon speaks..... I come from a lyrical time. 'Human' speech had rhythm and cadence. All languages had a 'Shakespearean' quality. In my mind, I equate this graciousness with my youth. Do I still crave that homeland? I suppose, but I could never give up on this place. Philadelphia is mine too. It has a style not often seen in New World cities. Buenos Aires has it. Quebec City, Boston, New Orleans, Charleston. Other places too, I suppose.... Still, have you ever seen the delicate architectural details of Granada? Have you ever attended oud recitals in The Alhambra? Tasted the light, seafood based cuisine of Spain's southern coast, or sailed the moonlit waters of the Baleric Islands? Granted, the food has not been mine since that fateful night in Provence, but the memories are mine, as is so much else. Maybe a trip to the 'Revels' will suffice? There was an announcement. A large, creamy, heavy, ivory envelope came. We get them from the Antiquities Registry, an organization that chronicles and regulates activities in the vampire world. The language, while strictly speaking not coded, is couched in terms unfamiliar to mortal ears. According to that latest epistle, a convocation is to take place this February... Not a full formal event, but a convocation none the less. You've heard us liken them to Bilderberg occasions? Google that. Google the Bilderberg Conference for an example. Well, perhaps I'll go. I like the mountains, though never much of as skier, I can handle myself if I have to. But riding through snowy, starlit, alpine meadows is sublime. Percheron mounts are the best. Just shy of Clydesdales. We pound through the powder. It flies like sugar. If humans, or post-human beings like us, ever want to feel like centaurs, that is it. I'll let you in on the location as soon as I know. They release these things little by little. Most high ranking night-folk can pick up and leave quickly. 'Familiars' run everything anyway. Odd, when you think about it, but we function like preternatural corporations. I don't know who the shareholders are, yet we do have our hangers-on. We do have people who depend on us. I myself give quite substantial sums to various museums throughout the city. If you know our story, I'll bet you can guess which ones they are. Not to mention the work we do with Doctor Franklin and his people at The Anti-Enchantment Bureau. Additional details will be provided next time. My beloved ancient hand illuminated copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo has arrived.... And I'd like to retire with that book... Thank you for forgiving the eccentricity of this unusual post... As always, I am Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea. And I appreciate your affection and support.
This is but a coming attraction to tomorrow's post. Could not blog tonight. #FF duties on Twitter and all that. But please, listen to the song and come back tomorrow for the story.
as always, explore and find more by clicking this ~> <<o> <o>> ... and click here ~> <> >========> ... to rocket along with us on Twitter...
The next night, Jonathon went with the elferinos. They soared over the January city. Vampirinos possess not true flight, as do Elferinos. They can sublimate through the air, but do not glide upon it. To an observer, both methods seem the same, though to night-folk they are not. He likes to vault high above the noise and float there... like a leaf on an infinite sea, staring up into the void. Sometimes a meteor streaks by... sometimes a tiny, artificial moon. Mortals would be terrified by the immensity of it all, but not vampires... not life-eaters like Jonathon. This night (the one we speak of now) a small, sleek, propeller driven, four passenger plane, probably a Beechcraft, whizzed by just above him. I don't know what the pilot thought when he saw what looked like a young, wavy haired, Spaniard all bundled up in black, tailored, quilted leather waving up at him. Maybe it was hard to see him with the bright lights of the city down below? But I'm just guessing. In an effort to avoid a collision, the poor man pulled all the way back on the wheel, causing the plane to break up, as it fell in a nose over tail spin. The unfortunate man, the only one on board, was dead by the time he hit Broad Street. The bus that ran over him right after was completely redundant. And the almost-a-crack-head slacker dude sitting in the torture-the-driver seat across the aisle screamed like a little girl, as the doll-like corpse came tumbling down. A few minutes later, Jonathon came down to earth, executing a neat, right foot first landing worthy of a ballerino, but as this happened on an impossibly narrow street lined with incredibly cute little 'mews' houses, no one saw but the cats and you know how hard it is to impress them. Soon after, he re-joined the elferinos and elferinas (picture early teen, waif-like street kids, a la the junior revolutionaries in Les Miserables) in the sculpture garden of The Rodin Museum, a favorite spot. They liked the walled privacy. Tiny bits of illumination hidden in the grass, or among the trees daubed the bronze statues in a low, yellow light. The 'elf' folk, two males and two females, Roland, Albion, Marianne and Celeste, condense from the shadows. Jonathon follows them to an exceptionally dark corner, where they sit upon the dry, cold grass and talk. Night-folk can have exceptionally quiet voices when they want to. You might mistake them for whispering leaves, if the trees still had leaves. Jonathon tells them of his 'plans.' Elferinos and elferinas look young, but the ones here in Philadelphia are mostly three hundred years old or more and not English. They hail from the Low Countries, victims of seventeenth and eighteenth century witch hunts. I think if you GOOGLE ~~ Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz, Marianne In Britches, you'll find a way into one of our most popular story arcs, where you can read all about it. Roland, a stalwart 'lad,' says - Jonathon, don't you like it here?.... He shrugs, nods and shrugs again.... They understand. No one talks. Celeste sings an old Walloon song. Back at the Townhouse, Edith (the witchy-woman, housekeeper) makes a call to Mister Edith, over in The Jersey Pines and the next day that venerable, ancient, vellum text, known as La Ciencia Vampirismo, is brought back to the city..... Perhaps it contains some answers? <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click - ANCIENT TALES ... to view all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click - NUMBER PLEASE ... to join me on Twitter... please COMMENT. thank you.
They sit in the townhouse kitchen. It's late. It's quiet. Jonathon reads a magazine... SPANISH LIFE... all about resorts and property in the hot coastal regions. Traditional, tile roofed, stucco villas... five bedrooms, five and a half luxury tiled baths, chef's kitchen, built-in wine cooler, stainless steel appliance package, two car garage plus parking for three. Bit of a Mediterranean view from private balcony off master. Close to bars, coffee shops and spending opportunities of all kinds. Marina space available.
Sarah (vampire Jonathon's consort) peeks over his shoulder and says - What do you think?...... He goes - I don't know. I'm guessing I'll have to go up into the hills to get something like I want. You know how it is in Malibu, all crowded on the beach but spread out and roomy when you move back a bit? (scans the glossy pages) God, it's so different. They want four and a half million dollars for these places....
Edith pours tea and says - What did you think? Did you think it would be the same? And where would you walk? There's nowhere to walk around up in the hills. Nowhere but the hills. You like to people watch. Who you gonna watch, rabbits and grouse? I say 'no.'
Sarah adds - Look, you don't have to go right away. Think about it. If you really have to do this, I'll go. You know that.
Do you want to go? - he says..... She doesn't answer.
Edith blurts out - He wants the old days. He wants it to be the way it was. We can get a hypnotist. He must have a 'familiar' who's a hypnotist, or knows a hypnotist. They can regress him. They can take him back to old Al-Andalus all he wants. It's hard to hypnotize vampires. I know that, but we can get a really good hypnotist. Doctor Franklin must know some.
Sarah moves her bar-seat closer to his and hugs him. They're sitting at the granite breakfast bar. Edith whispers - And who would you kill there?..... People, I'd kill people. Why? That wouldn't be a problem - says Jonathon. I only 'cull' twelve a year. I'd have visions. I'd know who to kill. That wouldn't change.... She shrugs.
Does Baylah ever want to go back to Timbuctu? - asks Sarah...... She's only about three hundred years old. Not even that. - says Jonathon. And 'Papa' has his out of body experiences, or whatever it is when he misses his past.
You went back once. I was with you. What was that? - asks Sarah...... I don't know - he says. God, do you know how long it's been since I've read my copy of La Ciencia Vamperismo? I don't even know where it is. I lost track of it.
Yeah, well, I didn't - says Edith. I got it out in The Pines. I got it put away. It's safe. It's OK. I wouldn't let nothing happen. You know that.
I don't know anything anymore. I just want to rest. I just want to sleep - he says.... Sarah helps him and they go up to their chamber. Edith puts the cups in the dishwasher and closes up.... Except for the ticking of the clocks, the townhouse sleeps....
The little ghost boy, who spends most of his time in the rooms down in the basement, comes up to sit in the dark, library and peek out through the draperies. He likes to watch the street. Occasionally, a rare late night pedestrian sees a small, gray face, but this is Old Philadelphia. People see a lot of things.
Jonathon and Sarah get undressed and burrow under the covers. Everything is snug and tight, just the way vampires like it. She clicks on the small flat screen they have mounted on the wall at the foot end of this humidor-walk-in-closet for people... well, exotic people... and watches some station binge blasting The Twilight Zone. Jonathon just lays there..... She says - Jonathon, if we go to Spain, how am I going to watch television?..... But he was already sleeping.
And then he dreamed. Maybe it was something he saw, or experienced once. Vampires experience a lot of things....
There was a rectangular shaft, lined with square, white, porcelain tiles. And it was just large enough to accommodate two bull hippos with perhaps a cubit and a half of empty space around their unyielding, boulder-like bodies. One faced east. The other faced west.... water up to their flanks.....
A skinny, shrieking, babbling man desperately hangs onto iron spikes running in a line from the lip of the shaft, maybe twelve cubits above his highest hand-hold to seven cubits below his twisted, puny, inadequate for gripping toes. Four pike-men wielding elephant spears jab at his head, his ass, his thighs, his groin... wherever they could... forcing him ever downward toward the 'dead-bath.' Drunken, overfed courtiers, each with perhaps two, sticky, clinging, low grade concubines borrowed from the 'cheap' harem with the slightly tattered, stained cushions, yell, gesticulate and for some odd reason make kissy faces and go 'awww,' as the doomed, bare man inches lower and lower.
Then it happens. The pike-man with the big thing growing out of his left nipple hits a tender spot. The doomed, bare man screams, lets go and SMACKS down, stomach side south, right on the wide, expansive, oozing back (did you know they can sweat 'blood?') of the west facing behemoth.... For a few heartbeats he just lays there, like a mouse in a glue trap, tasting what comes out of those pores.... The audience up above gasps. A few of the concubines go 'tee hee hee.'... The pike-men pull back on their weapons.... Bubbles stream out from the lemon sized nostrils of the offended 'river horse.' Then it SLAMS the left side of its body against the tiles. The accidental passenger screams some more, but the beast is so big. What can he grab onto? Then it slams into its neighbor, who slams back. Soon they're at it, rearing and 'mouthing' at each other's giant, hippo butts. Hides rip. Blood flows. Water churns, as the skinny, naked man slides down between the two berserk killers.
Those up above begin to cheer, greasy and hot in the orange torchlight. Someone heaves a squealing concubine over the edge. Two others follow. By the time it was over, they all went in. Look, the 'prince' was gonna redecorate anyway. Shame to waste all those bracelets and anklets. Lucky they were just the cheap stuff... the girls too....
Last Image - What looked like two huge raw livers floating in a gruesome vat of Campbell's Chunky Soup from hell.....
Then the dream was gone.....
And Jonathon wasn't sleeping...
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click - SOUP ... to taste all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click - TALK ... to join me on Twitter... Please COMMENT. Thank you.
True, bone chilling cold descends upon the city. Steam rises from manholes and other street level grates. The air feels like shattered glass and I love it. The heart of winter is here. Those about at this hour huddle in coffee shops and all night deli's, reading their fortunes in vapors rising from big bowls of thick, split pea and ham soup, or cut up all beef hot dogs if they like it like that. Some just have coffee, either for economic reasons, or the zen like purity of it. I walk by. If you're sensitive to it, and inside, you might feel the fresh from the dishwasher tableware in the racks vibrate a little. Vampires can cause that.... Have I 'culled' anyone tonight?... No, Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, hasn't kissed or killed anybody. I just walk and I just think. I hear the oud (medieval large guitar-mandolin combination) music of old Cordoba. How soothing it was. We'd sit in aristocratic halls, either Muslim, or Christian, or Jewish, sipping sweetened wines, precursors to Brandy or Sherry, while Andalician Gypsy girls danced ancient flamencos. How I long for the staccato beats of the fiery castanets. That was my world.... No, you don't realize what I mean. You don't understand how fundamental it is. That was 'my' world.... And it still is. Yes, I have witnessed and absorbed the breath of other lands. I know Britain and Muscovy, Byzantium and The Levant.... I know Philadelphia. For over three hundred and fifty years (before the English, since the Swedes and Dutch) I have been at home here, though I still often dream in various old Iberian dialects, both mortal and life-eater. We had orange groves and between the trees there were rows of aloe plants. Sometimes I'd walk the horses up and down the rows. Sundown was magic. Tiny bells tinkled on the bridle. I felt close to God then. I want to go back. Look, maybe I've always wanted to go back. They say vampires always long for the surroundings of their mortal life. And I think that's true. We hide it. We deny it. We pretend we're changed. We pretend it doesn't matter. But everything matters. It all comes together. We can't help it. That's just the way it is..... Old people remember their childhoods and devoted wives instantly brighten whenever someone calls them by their 'maiden' name. We long for the familiar..... I realized that last night. We were watching Downton Abbey. The show is a drug to me. Ask me why. I can't say. At least I can't put it into words. But the heart of the story gets through to me.... A family... Their land... Their 'seat' (ancestral house)... Their lives... (sighs) Well, I suppose I have put it into words. And I've watched it since the beginning, only now it's the final season. Six years isn't enough for a vampire..... Oh, God! Time is so different for us. I don't think I can make you understand that. A ninety year old, or a centenarian might have the barest inkling.... or parents watching their first little toddler grow up. It all happens so fast... baby clothes barely worn.... infant toys packed away. We want it to last. We want it to mean something... We want to taste it and taste it and taste it and never let go. How can one mortal lifetime be enough? That's the funny part. I long for my own mortal childhood and youth, yet it's such a small part, temporally speaking, of who I am.... though it goes so deep.... (sniff) Have I been mumbling to myself while we've been walking?.... There's a place near here. They have Yemeni coffee. We had Yemeni coffee when I was a boy. I want some.... How fundamentally cold it is. He stops channeling. Billy stops typing...The usual 'ending' stuff appears on the screen. I guess he types that. But I'm just a disembodied spirit who helps narrate this thing.... What the hell do I know? <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ to see every episode of Vampire Wonderland (rather like a free APP) -click EVERYTHING IS EVERYWHERE ... to join me on Twitter - click coffee and cake ... Please COMMENT. Thank you. And if you like Downton Abbey and want to consider a very worthy and doable show inspired by that one, kindly visit my Twitter page (click coffee and cake, up above) and RETWEET my pinned tweet (the first one). Read all the way through it. Not too long... maybe a good paragraph. I think it makes sense. What do you think? Comments will be published. Thanks.
Jonathon shares scenes only a near immortal vampire might witness~~~
I was once the guest of a certain potentate. He had 'troublesome slaves sealed in plaster blocks... Coffin sized blocks they were. An eight inch 'bed' of moist plaster covered the bottom. Then the naked soul was forced to lay down with a thin, copper straw to hold in their mouth, as wet plaster came down all around them. When it dried, they were encased in a rectangular cube approximately seven and a half feet long and three feet on each side. The straw enabled them to breathe (shallow breaths, due to the unforgiving plaster, to be sure), for it protruded from the smooth, white block.
Victims were kept alive for a while, perhaps a few days at most. You see, the body continued to shed waste. But where could it go? There was minimal space, if any. Plaster bonds with skin. Thus whatever exited the body compressed it even more. Truly fortunate slaves and underlings, and all in that place were underlings, had their copper straw infused with an exotic fixative... some sort of resin. Those favorites died fast.
And the plaster blocks? Ballast for swift dhows plying the East African trade. Sometimes, after years, one would deteriorate and crack open, releasing yellow-brown bones, sticky tissue remnants and a unique, horrific stink.
Intact blocks are still found to this day. Collectors pay dearly for them. A few have been carefully halved, cleaned out and used to make casts of the long gone prisoner.
Come back a bit later, just before we start #SNL4fun . (you can click on it) at 11:30PM Eastern Time and read about 'The River Horse Pool' too.
Maybe if Billy isn't tired, he'll help me post a wee hour episode detailing me.
A Joyous Saturday Evening to all~~~~
the vampire, Jonathon ben Macabi... aka Tomas de Macabea...
<more later>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for more Vampire Wonderland click VW ... to join me on Twitter click HELLO . ... please comment. thank you.
Jonathon still had that feeling. The world seemed a bit off balance. Magnetic resonances were out of kilter. Even though he didn't know the technical reasons and terms for all of it, Jonathon still felt it all. Vampires are like that. Witchy-Folk are too. I suppose 'born' witches more than they who merely study, but you can't always bet on that.
He sat out in the postage stamp, backyard townhouses usually have, with Edith (she's the witchy-woman housekeeper). The night was cold and clear... not freezing, but bone chilling just the same. They wore coats, knit caps, mufflers and gloves, the whole bit. Those about on winter nights could do no less. Witchy-folk are mortal and able to contract all manner of illness. Vampires are beyond that, though the physical sensations of dampness and cold bites just the same... They had snuggled under warm stadium blankets too, each on their own high backed, lacquered porch chair.
Edith said - Look at the stars. They seem like cold, silvery things, but many are at least eleven thousand degrees at the surface. I know that from an old set of World Book encyclopedias..... Impressive - said Jonathon. But 'Papa' knows what they're like close up..... For those who don't know, 'Papa' is the twenty eight thousand year old (who looks like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere) Cro Magnon, shaman vampire responsible for Jonathon's nativity.... That must be positively terrifying. I think if ever saw even the Earth from out in space, I don't mean in a space ship, but floating around the way 'Papa' does, I'd drop dead and die - said Edith..... He's a vampire. He's already dead, or something very much like it - said Jonathon.... Do you think you're dead? - asked Edith.... I don't know - he said. I only know what they tell me. And 'Papa' only knows our own star, the sun. Imagine, he can project himself out there. I'm still not sure if he actually 'goes,' or if it's like what they call remote viewing, or something like that. But think about it. He's seen roiling waves on the surface of the sun rise up ten thousand miles and break, just like monstrous waves upon the sea. He says the light is so bright everything's lost in a white hot, radio active 'hiss.'...... Then how does he see it? - asked the witchy-woman..... I don't know - said Jonathon. I'm thinking he sees it another way, like in the radiation spectrum, if I'm using the right words..... And the light doesn't destroy him? - she asked..... I guess it doesn't. I'm told every vampire is tied to their own star. Maybe if I went to an Earth-like world around another star I'd be immune too? - said Jonathon..... Then he added - Twenty eight thousand years old. Even I can't conceive of it. Maybe that's why? And then I think of even older ones. Remember Mister Old Bones, that Neanderthal vampire and 'Papa's' 'mother,' the Lady Renate? Who knows what's out there?...... I don't want to know - said Edith. My level of hoo-doo is more than enough....
For a while they just sat there, watching the stars. If you stare long enough, you'll begin to see colors. Some stars are blue, or red, or orange, or white. You have to be patient and have a little bit of discernment, but you'll see it.... Edith unscrewed the cup-lid on a classic, plaid Thermos filled with hot plain tea. She was eight feet from the kitchen door, but when they 'sit out' she likes to be prepared. Running inside breaks the spell. She poured herself a little and said - Jonathon, you want some?... Vampires can tolerate thin, mostly clear liquids. He nodded and said - A little, but you take first. I'll have what's left.... Cold doesn't hit him likes it hits her.....
She sipped, as the vampire whispered - That feeling we had? I think something happened. I think a prophet was born..... You mean as a baby? - she said.... Not necessarily. Could be the 'birth' of awareness. Maybe he, or she is just waking up to it..... 'She?' - Edith asked. There can be lady prophets?.... The vampire said - Oh, there have been 'lady' prophets, quite a few of them, even in my thousand year lifetime. Look, I don't know if they're major prophets, but they're getting something. Not just the women, everybody, I mean. We all do, every day, but you know how they think. Only 'crazy people' hear God. What idiots. Look at yourself. Look at the witchy-women. You don't think some of them ever get 'messages?' Even you.
Edith said - I gotta start writing things down....Then she passed him the Thermos and he drank.
But in that instant when their eyes were off the heavens, a blue star passed a red one and for a few heartbeats a purple glow rained down from above.....
<more next time>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click BEHOLD! ... to browse all episodes of Vampire Wonderland.... click COMMUNITY ... to join me on Twitter. please comment. thank you.
Posts
