Gather 'bout your little screens, mortals, and read my words. I so rarely acknowledge your presence. Maybe after twenty eight thousand years, I've just forgotten, or grown numb to the sensations and problems you face. I am the one they call 'Papa.' Over the eons I've had many names. What difference could they possibly make to you. That's not a question. It's a fact.
But I observe the maelstrom of human life and I draw conclusions. Please know that my mortal nativity occurred far in advance of anything resembling the modern interpretations of Divinity you have today. We were, what you might call, pantheists. 'God' was everywhere and He peeked out at the world through every set of 'eyes,' both functional and figurative. A stone might see... a shaman... a wolf... a storm... a baby.... Spirits, indeed, THEE Spirit was everywhere, thus gratuitous slaughter was a no-no. Did we kill? Of course, but not like you do. It happened... crimes of passion.... tragic conflicts between tribes and clans. Yet even considering the tiny spark of humanity back then, those things were rare. Maybe we willed it so? Maybe God willed it so? My experience, though prodigious, doesn't cover everything.
Yet I want to comment on your current realization of the Divine. To me, it seems obvious. I'll bet it does to some of you too, though you just don't say it. I speak of Scripture.... the holy books of religion, as they exist in the 'west.' Each has passages of love and reconciliation. Each has instances of hate, brutality and division. I sure 'God' does that for a reason... free will and all.. You are given choices. Everything is everywhere. The path taken is yours.. You can see the dark, or you can see the light..... Get it?.... What choices do you make?
And 'scripture' goes far beyond the sanctioned tomes. There are commentaries... compendiums of religious 'law'... accounts of the acts, both bloody and otherwise' of the faithful... a large, ongoing nebulous repository or 'truth.' Beauty is as beauty does... You know what I mean... 'By their deeds, ye shall know them.
Simple?.... It is
That's why Jonathon and most other 'vampires' take vows.
Me? Over the years, I've been good and I've been bad. Good is better, though bad is more fun. The victims went up in a whoosh of 'cold' blue flames and disappeared. Those on the scene rarely suspected us. You've heard talk of this before. How do you think spontaneous human combustion legends started?
Oh, the ruling classes knew. They were our allies. We killed for them.... at least some did.... And some of us were destroyed in return.
I want to share some of my experiences.... victims taken in The Blue Grotto.... compliant 'believers' culled in shadowy cathedrals.... travelers snatched on dark roads....
I like variety...
I like to shake things up.
<more next time>
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I grab the magic talking book from that Billy. We have a few similar devices down in the tunnels. I know a bitsy 'bout these things. He don't want to let it go. I say - Do you want me to be a powerful friend or a powerful enemy? No, not your enemy, your executioner.... He give me a look. I smile and let him see new fangs..... I go - Well?... He slides it over.... I am no thief. That Billy will get it back. But I want you to hear about me FROM me. For as far as I know, there had never been another like me since the time before the moon. I do not mean the real time before the moon. It is just an expression. But you know that.
I am Cressida, formerly known as Aura. They both mean same thing. And I am first never-die vampirina in dis place we call 'the world'.... What does this mean?... It means I have more smart stuffed into my skull than any mortal, or originally born mortal creature on Earth. Other worlds, I do not know. Their magic is their magic and what they do with it is their affair.
Papa, my creator, has no idea. That twenty eight thousand year old vain bastid.... Oh, he look just like young Richard Gere... SCREW Richard Gere. If he was young Richard Gere I would. But he is not, so ha ha ha ha ha!
If I go on WHO WANT TO KILL ALL DE MILLIONAIRE AND TAKE ALL THEY MONEY, I win the whole thing, especially if they are asking me de history question. I thumb my nose at history question because I live every bit of it.I see Queen Marie Antoinette naked. You know that? A make pretend French girl. I see her. I have it de sex with Hercules... the REAL Hercules, not Lou Ferrigno. And I once shoplift sweater with de young Elizabeth Taylor. I say - Elizabeth,why you not kill that Eddie Fisher bastid and say some other dumb bastid do it?... She say she think about it, but obviously she do not. Squeaky voice bitch. Now I run de street and go SEX SEX SEX!... If I like, they live... If I not like... I go - Yum! Yum! Eat 'em up!.. Please do not think I shout those words all up and down city. Cressida does not do that. She kill lowlife rotten bastid with style and panache. I feel SO GOOD to be free from de many tunnel. Mole-folk papa not know I here. Mole-folk sister (Sylvia) not know I here. Want to send them letter, but post office bitch say they not deliver to sinister underground place, so I kill her. Now she know for real... Have you ever see me? You know if you do. Cressida very much beautiful thing. I got smooth, creamy, olive skin... long curly, rich brown hair... dark green eye... nice, heart shape face and pretty tittie... both of dem.... They both pretty. I wear mink stole, PHILADELPHIA ZOO baseball cap and Converse ALL-STAR sneaker... de black ones... de real ones. All over every place else I am naked. Vampirina can do that. If I see cop... if I see crazy old lady... if I see f*ck face anybody, I make de vampire eyes and they not see me. Sometime I tickle them and they do not see me. Sometime I pull pants, inside pants, outside pants, down to ankle and they not see me.... Never-die vampirina have fun. Many people like see me. They go - WOO! WOO! WOO! .... Some I make de sex with. Some I kill.... Look, what can I do? You know how it is. Why I am talking this way? I not know. Papa say it because new vampire nature upset never-die nature and all de different life I got inside a me all mixed up. Who cares? So what? Drop dead. Now, go do what you do. I watch JAMES CORDEN den I run naked in streets... <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click MINK STOLE to see all Vampire Wonderland episodes... click NAKED NEVER-DIE VAMPIRINA ... to join me on Twitter... please comment. kindly tell your friends and followers. sincere thanks for your support...
I was naked in the rain and my skin was peeling off. Papa lay on top of me. I cried. Lightning flashed silently in the distance. He whispered - Soon it will be over.... Then he hugged me tight.... We were all alone, lying on the grass of Belmont Plateau. The lights of Center City twinkled through the nighttime haze to the south. I gasped for breath. Such an odd feeling. Oxygen meant nothing to me. I didn't need it. Yet my lungs were used to the sensation. I felt Papa's breath against my cheek. I grew calm. I drew in air and let it out. We breathed as one. ... My skin was gone. He tore out handfuls of grass and scoured the last bits from my body, revealing the smooth, new, clean, white vampire membrane beneath Then I felt the hunger.... New food... New nourishment... New everything... It was more than hunger. It was a drug. I craved it. I trembled. I moaned. He picked me up and held me... Look, a lot of you have been with them since the beginning. You've read the accounts. You know what happens.... But I never read them. I never knew. I was Aura, First Daughter to The Mole King. I lived under the city. I was barely aware of this 'blog,' this public sharing. My people are quiet and reticent. They live in dark tunnels, after all. I ate mushrooms and domesticated pigeons and rats for God's sake. And now I swim in magic. I breathe it instead of air. When he held me, we flickered. His energy was my energy. I knew Jonathon had abilities. I knew he had his talents... but this was different. I haven't been a vampire long, or 'vampirina,' as they say it.... Excuse me. I get confused.... We sublimated into a place, a shadowy stone chamber. I don't know where it was.... A thin, young man cried on the floor. He didn't get up. He didn't do anything. I have no idea how long he was there. Papa wouldn't tell me. He said one word - Eat... The young man whimpered. I fell on him and tore him apart. I laughed like a maniac and cracked his ribs. I was slick with blood and licked it from my forearms. I wanted more. It was like the blood baths of Byzantium, or the skull crushings of the Eastern Ghats ... specially trained elephants, you know... taught to hold their massive foot just above the head of the prone figure and apply pressure slowly.... How they screamed. Papa grabbed me. A few heartbeats later we were here. He took me upstairs and bathed me. Then we went down to the secured sleeping quarters in the basement. The ghost of the little polio victim watched. Billy didn't say a word. He stayed in his own room far upstairs, till daylight came. What would Jonathon think of me when he came back? What would Sarah say? I was Papa's slave. He may not have thought of it in those terms, but that's what I was. I was supposed to be a companion for Sarah, but, in truth, I was a concubine for him. I retreated back into my endless memories and wept. <more next time> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ click HALVAH .... to see all episodes of Vampire Wonderland... click SEASAME SEEDS ... to join me on Twitter.... please comment. kindly tell your friends. thank you...
Now they call me 'Cressida,' but you may know me as Aura. Both names mean the same thing. Cressida is Greek. Aura is Latin. Each means 'gold.' I am the eldest daughter of the mole-folk leader. Not magic in any meaningful way, just different. We live in the unused subway tunnels beneath the city. I 'played' with Jonathon. He knows us. Sylvia and I were favorites of his. Our subterranean candlelit sponge baths are legendary. God bless those old cans of Sterno.
I said that I am not tinged by magic in any meaningful way... but magic isn't everything. I endure through other means. Does my body live forever? No, but my soul does and I remember every instant of the journey. No sooner do I shed one mortal coil then I inhabit another. Heaven can wait. I've never been there. My memory goes back to early hominid times. No names then. Little in the way of language, though we had our dramas... who coupled with whom... who gives the best 'grooms and tickles.' Simple times..
Then I was Neanderthal. Then I was Cro Magnon. Then I was Eefah of the Podoh People. Mud pack hairdos and henna squiggly-wigglies all over the place. Please think not that these transformations happened quickly. They did not. When I say 'Neanderthal' I speak not of one generation, but of eons. I saw the ice come and I saw the ice go. Sometimes I was female. Sometimes I was male. I've been a eunuch and a king. Does that sound like Sinatra? Forgive me. I did not mean it. It all seems like a whirlwind. I've enjoyed few of my childhoods. You know how children are. And childbirth can be lethal. Everything was lethal. Once I was a Grand Inquisitor. Once I built a railroad. Made it run. Once I babbled my life away in a dungeon for thirty six years. Believe me, Man of La Mancha it was not. Burnt for a witch eighty one times. Only deserved it twice. Was Queen of Bythia once. Was King of the Gypsies twice too. Never a vampire, but killed by them a few times.
You know what stays with me? ... A rogue wave off the coast of Madagascar. I was a deck slave. The sky was black... a charcoal dome of swirling clouds... I was terrified... All the passengers and most of the crew were down below. The 'lodestone' I was... a seamen's superstition, meant to draw the charge from the storm.... a sacrifice to Jove, there to take the lightning...
But before I got the chance, Neptune threw something else my way... a small undulation, off in the distance, barely visible in the maelstrom rolled toward the ship and the few sailors left on deck... each transfixed by the rising horror before us... a crushing wall of water more than one hundred and thirty cubits high. Two heartbeats later, the remaining crewmen ran below, leaving me all alone to face our hellish end. I said my prayers, as the dhow rolled under (we took the wave broadside) untold tons of dark, cold pressure... At least it was over fast... but I did feel my skull pop.
And now I am a bride... a vampire bride... brought over to this new form of enchantment.... a 'never die' in body, as well as soul... a female for what might be a very long time... a vampirina meant to be 'sister' to Sarah.....
Does she know about Jonathon and I?...
Of course she does....
But I'm privy to a lot about that one too...
Maybe I was ready for a change...
Who knows?
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Look, before I start on that 'bringing Jonathon and the others back' thing, there's something I want to do - said the twenty eight thousand year old, young Richard Gere look alike, vampire entity, known as 'Papa.'... Billy sat across from him in the den/family room shaking his leg. You know how people make their knee vibrate when they get nervous and impatient? Well, Billy is the champ. They once wanted him for The Olympics. There was gonna be this event... all new categories... international big league nose picking... chicken wing eating contests... You know... Play to the youth market. But then that big guy with the unknown foreign name, shot the dude jonesin' for it and The Olympics almost went all Scream Queens on us. Look, they have girls running around snapping kerchiefs in the air. What do you expect? And once some people doing a dance in a giant, hollow, crystal bull got steamed alive under the hot, opening ceremony, lights. Somebody wrote a book about it all --- SECRETS OF THE MODERN OLYMPICS. The PARKS AND RECREATION team wants a do a show about it.... But I digress.
What Papa wants to do is make a female friend for Sarah. She's quiet and always defers to Jonathon. Papa doesn't like that. After all, his mother is the Lady Renate. You know, all them 'Lilith' legends are based on her. Not Fraser's wife, Lilith, I mean the 'real' Lilith.... who herself is a legend or a metaphor or some biblical thing.
Papa wants to wander the streets. Says he'll know the girl when he sees her. Billy goes - You mean you're just gonna pick her out and turn her into a vampire? Don't you take oaths? Don't you have rules? Don't you have no religion?
I was born before religion, at least religion as you know it. I don't need no stinkin' rules. I don't need no words either. I can put my words right into your head. BOOM, you feel that? ..... Billy shot up off the chair, cracked his head on the ceiling and crashed down on the floor between the chair and the cocktail table. But don't worry. Papa 'healed' him and he never even knew it. Twenty eight thousand year old entities can do that.
Where WAS I?! What did I just see? What HAPPENED to me?! What WAS that?! - shrieked Billy, as he climbed back into the sleek, leather, club chair, shaken, but alright....
Papa lowered his eyes, caught him with a laser-like gaze and said - Just a taste of my powers. Now you know. Don't worry. You'll have your night-folk friends back. They are my spawn. I won't forsake them. What kind of progenitor do you think I am? Oh, and what you experienced was a moonlit mastodon hunt and the human sacrifice 'thanks offering' performed after...
That little boy, he had to die? You sewed him up into the severed mastodon head while he was still alive? - whispered Billy...
Look, I didn't say we had 'no' religion, just none you'd recognize. Don't judge me, mortal. Don't judge me - went Papa.
And Billy shut up....
Papa got up, went into the cool, linear, stone, steel kitchen and poured himself an icy vodka. Then he put the glass in the sink and left.... Billy sat there in the always perfectly 'staged' townhouse, bathed in the narrow beam of an overhead pin light. Save for a few other accent lights positioned about the residence the place was dark. Edith, their witchy-woman housekeeper wasn't there, yet everything remained coherent. The house 'cooperated' with itself, whether through her magic, or some other source he didn't know.
Look, I'm just a disembodied, spirit narrator and not even an important 'named' one, like you have around here. But Papa did find a young girl and he did bring her over into that 'vampire' thing. She took the words right into her mouth. It must have been when he was 'kissing' her. And not just her mouth, for he 'kissed' her all over, high up on the deserted plain of Belmont Plateau, in the middle of the manicured, urban wood, known as Fairmount Park, and only the dryads saw.
Thus was Cressida made... and she had secrets of her own...
<more next time>
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They sat in the den. Roland took everything in. He'd never been in the townhouse before. Billy waited for 'Papa' to start talking again. The twenty eight thousand year old entity was like that. Time meant nothing to him. He remembered wooly mammoths and giant ground sloths like you remember some neighbor's yappy puppy or Lion-el and The Thunder Cats. He saw languages rise and fall. Dogs were domesticated. Saber toothed monsters killed children.... and not just children. Our modern world seemed dry and brittle to him. 'This too shall pass'--- that's how he saw it. But he was a vampire, or more precisely something beyond a vampire. Time did that. Oh, 'Papa' still had fangs and he could kill. Once in a while he did, though he could do other things too.
Suddenly Billy realized that the room was cool. No air-conditioning. It wasn't on. But the room was cool. Papa noticed. He said - I like to be comfortable. The atmosphere emanates from me. I 'think' therefore it 'is.'... Billy nodded and asked - Can you get them back? Jonathon, Sarah and the rest, I mean..... Papa shrugged - I suppose so, when it's right. You know, centuries ago, not millennium, just centuries, they called parallel universes 'fairie.' It's where Rip van Winkle was. In this land, 'America' I mean, the old New York Knickerbockers used to go back and forth all the time....... Can people in New York still do that? - asked Billy...... No - said the All Powerful One. Universes align and realign just like planets. There must be points of contact. They open up and they close. Do you know there are 'twin' universes? The portals stay open for, I don't know, maybe forever. You see, In an infinite omniverse all things are possible...... Then he glanced at the elferino, Roland, who was busy with a silver sided Rubik's Cube. They were all silver sided, every surface. What difference did it make? But the elfin creature acted like it did.... Papa said - Does he speak?.... Billy said - Yes, actually. Telepathically too, I think..... Oh, I know - said Papa. I was just making an observation. How childlike they are. How pure and true. You know, they're rare? They pop up every few thousand years. You're lucky to have them..... Billy nodded.... Roland beamed, as if he'd actually 'solved' the puzzle. Papa studied him for a few heartbeats and smiled. Then he said - I'll try to find the others. The 'born witch,' Pig Blood Annie, was just a fluke. Sometimes it happens that way... He picked up the large pickle jar and watched her struggle amongst the threatening waves.... My 'snow globe.' I'll keep her for a while and then put her back where she belongs. Believe me, she'll be 'schooled' and won't try these things again.... Billy asked - How can you be sure?..... Papa said - Considering all you know about me, do you really have any doubt?.... Billy quietly whispered - No....
Then they sat there in the cool comfortable ether emanating from the twenty eight thousand year old being that looks like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere. Each one dusted by the dim, orange glow hovering in the middle of the room....
And that's how they spent the night.....
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The next night, Billy went back to the townhouse. He wasn't alone. Roland, one of the elferinos went with him. God knows what he expected to find. In the night-folk world anything can happen and Billy wasn't even really night-folk. Sure he knew a few words in Old Vahmperigo (a Mediterranean vampire language) and was familiar with the 'talking' mummies stored deep in the basements of The Penn Museum, but that's not really so much. Witchy-woman, Edith taught him to throw a few protection spells. They sort of worked. Nobody sat next to him on the subway. Groups of rowdy street kids tortured other people. Birds never crapped on his head, although, sometimes that can be lucky. He threw one on the house before he left. Roland walked up to the door and sniffed. He has that elferino sense of smell... more than just smell... detects evil, ethereal presences, coins under seat cushions, lost, popped off Barbie heads, used Kleenexes. Billy whispered - Well, is it alright?..... Seems so - said the Walloon, paranormal 'youth.'... Then he sniffed the two windows on each side of the door as well.... Billy watched apprehensively. Roland said - Want me to pop over the roof and check the back?..... Do you think you should? - asked Billy..... No, not really - said the elferino. It's not a physical thing, but a spiritual sense I get of the whole place. It's clear. Do you want to go it?.... Billy nodded. They went up the marble steps. The little ghost boy peered out a basement window and watched them enter.
All the lights were out. A bit of streetlamp illumination filtered in here and there, but just a bit. The fine, old tall clock in the hall ticked quietly. Billy wondered who'd balanced the weights, though in a house like this anything could happen.
They walked toward the back of the house, where the kitchen and den were. He tried to flick a switch or two, but no luck. Still dark. Roland whispered - I feel something..... Billy whispered - What?..... Roland said - I don't know. It's... I don't know.....
Then they saw the light... not a lamp... not a fixture... just a light... a small, round, cloud of subdued, orange radiating out from the middle of the den, halfway between the ceiling and the floor. They stared transfixed. After a few heartbeats a face 'appeared' washed in the strange, shadowy glow from the ghostly illumination. 'Papa' was back. He sat in one of the big club chairs, posed like the statue of the legendary president in the Lincoln Memorial. Billy blinked. He was shocked. Roland barely knew who Papa was. No one said a word. Billy wished one of the night-folk were present, not an elferino, but a 'classic' vampire, someone to represent the household. He didn't want to address the unbelievably ancient, entity, but (sigh) he had to.... so he steeled himself, stepped forward and said - Papa, you're back.... The twenty eight thousand year old being who looked like a thirty two, or thirty three year old Richard Gere (and dressed like one as well) continued to stare at the light. Then he held up a large pickle jar. It caught the orange glow. He wanted Billy to come closer. The mortal, blog coordinator did... Papa said one word - Look... Billy saw what was in the jar. A tiny Pig Blood Annie (their 'born witch' nemesis) thrashed about in what to her were huge, crashing waves.... Billy said - But, Papa, why didn't you come back when Jonathon (our hero and his vampiric progeny) called?.... Papa carefully placed the jar on the cocktail table, looked up, smiled wryly and said - The important thing is I'm here now.
Then he picked up the jar and shook it. They could hear the born-witch scream inside. That made him laugh. He shook it again....
You see, to the evil witch entrapped within, there was no jar, but an endless ocean, far, far away, on a world not quite her own.
Roland moved in for a look.... Papa smiled, but the ever careful elferino was too amazed to smile back...
<more next time>
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