vampire wonderland... the book of sarah

Blessed art Thou, O Creator-King, Who enables me to share this truth~~~. This is how I help people. This is how I make up for taking lives, even when those lives are meant to be taken. My blood can also save people. It has certain qualities of preservation. I have cartons of these little vials. They used to use them for perfume samples not too long ago. I have thousands of them. I slice into a finger tip with an old fashioned razor blade and dribble a few drops of my wondrous elixir into the tiny, glass tube. Then I seal it shut with a bit of wax taken from dime store birthday candles. I stuff a few of them down my shirt and go on my way. I walk by houses and feel the lives of those inside. When I stumble upon a deserving soul I sublimate through the wall and go inside. There is a speech that I say... 'Fear not. I am sent to balm your wounds. I am here to make all things right.' They think I'm a guardian angel  of some sort. Well, I am. I'm the sort of guardian angel that is actually a guardian vampire. So what? Who cares? At least I get results. The subject usually bursts into tears. I comfort them, while managing to dribble a few drops of my red medicine past their lips. Afflictions vanish. All is well. Spiritual strength is renewed. And I even fill their coffers too with whatever I scavenge from my evil victims. One poor grandmother with two toddlers to manage got a stack of one hundred dollar bills from some drug dealer, plus the deed to a condo in Atlantic City, New Jersey, complete with the keys and everything. It was all legitimate. I have an advocate who helps me. You'd be surprised at the people who help me. Some of them do it because they believe in my work, others to keep  me away from their door, or their throats actually. There's an old grizzled man who sleeps on steam vents. He's been homeless for eleven years. I slipped a solid gold, diamond encrusted Rolex watch on his wrist a few nights ago (from a shady, extortionist doctor), along with a pocket full of loose cut, high-quality emeralds. I seem to remember that the total worth was somewhere in the vicinity of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Then I woke him up and arranged for a suite at a fine hotel. It's easy to mesmerize desk clerks. He saw the watch and not the filthy sleeve above it. When last I heard, my grizzled ward was keeping company with the widow of a wealthy real estate developer and they were contemplating a small investment in Belize. In a few nights I'll be due for my monthly feeding. I'm starting to feel the hunger. During the day, during the time when I leave this world, I have visions. I see the image of my next meal. Each night the picture grows ever clearer, until I know the soul and all their faults. Then I just go out and do my duty. Such is life... or death in my case. Oh, look. There is my favorite Starbucks. I think I will go in (remember, it is a familiar of mine who transcribes this. I communicate with his mind, while I am free to wander at my leisure). The lovely young girl inside thinks I remind her of some curly haired swain on a television show called Entourage. I will have to watch it sometime. Oh, I am so very vain. The other girl, the one in the clothier's, tells me I look best in Dolce and Gabbana. Who am I to argue? What I could tell her about the goods vended in the souks of Marrakesh. But for now, I will just snuggle into a deep, leather chair near the fire (conditioned air makes it bearable) and contemplate my meal. Who knows, perhaps it will be you? The aroma here is so like what I remember in the coffee houses of old Granada. Let me un focus my gaze for a moment or two and lose myself in my thoughts. There is a land where dreams are born. I know, for I have been there. And I seem to think that some of you have wandered through there too.

The Book of Sarah

Here's a peek at the beginning ------ My, how Tomas/Jonathon has grown!------First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction. You have to accept this. Please, you  must. You do not know. Please... I am in hiding. Even for a 'vampire' I am in hiding. There are secure places. I have them all over the city of Philadelphia. I am writing this through my 'familiar.' He is that wilkravitz fellow . I can send my mind up out of my body. I send it to him and he does what I say. He was eating lunch in an all you can eat Chinese style buffet when I occupied him. Now he is sitting in a public library frantically typing away, while irrate young ruffians await their chance to play games and turn their own minds into jelly. They are after me. They want to destroy me. I do not understand this world. I do not know why. I have never so much as harmed one soul. Countless bodies maybe, but a soul, never. You would think that after almost one thousand years, I would have this all figured out, but everything keeps changing all the time. Just when I get used to a century it's all gone. Do you know anybody who needs any powdered wigs or stove-pipe hats? I believe I have a trunk or two stuffed with bell-bottom pants if you want them. Can you imagine the tag sale I could have? Right now, I'm in the long forgotten, dusty toy department of the buried Gimbels subway store. I like it. I can forget my troubles here. Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys and Legos... They are wondrous. I have reconstructed our old villa in Al Andaluz. It's quiet here. It calms me. Except for the passing subway caravans, I hear nothing... at least not with my ears. Sarah... I want to be with Sarah. I will abandon this wilkravitz person soon and fly to her. She is worried about me. Soon it will be dark. I will leave then. Inshallah, they will not see me. Maybe I will be strong enough to sublimate? Maybe I will  be able to  pass through the solid matter of the world and appear by her side. There are things she has to know. For they who seek to extinguish me , would do the like to her. Please believe me. I have never harmed a soul. No one can harm a soul. their fate rests in the Hands of God. Am I still a believer? Of course. Faith never dies. I am looking at the small, plastic recontruction of my boyhood home. It is a balm to my senses. Yet it reminds me of that fantastical trip and how I came to be. Let me catch my breath. Let me relax and float back down to the floor. This nervous levitation tires me. I like to feel my own weight. I like to have my feet on the ground. I can hear the fire of the sun. It is beginning to pass 'round to the other side of the world now. Perhaps I will soon be able to leave this land of dead, dry, dusty playthings? Perhaps... and then the real games can begin. I am done here, for now. Let the ruffians come and have their fun. Who cares? They'll soon be jelly.Corpses get that way, you know....

please hit the SHARE button. kindly leave a COMMENT. and a happy 'klactu barada nicto' to you.

First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction. The coming of Sarah. ... 'Sarah' the name means princess , as in Sarah, the wife of Abraham. She is believed to have been the daughter of a pre-Celtic tribe, called the Hurrians, a semi-nomadic people found throughout the eastern Mediterranean. Fair Sarah she was called. Desired by kings. Coveted by princes, but given in marriage to the first patriarch and thus the spiritual mother of us all. My Sarah is just as comely. She is tall and willowy, with auburn hair and eyes like a renaissance madonna. And in her own way, she too has become a spiritual mother. I found her amidst the rare and enchanted volumes of a tiny, cluttered bookshop. It was called Philadelphia After Dark, as it opened with the gloaming and closed up with the dawn. A place for all those who could not sleep... or did not sleep, at least not during the night. She sat behind an antique, wooden counter, absorbed in a classic tale, when I first went into the shop. The floors were old, softened wood and they creaked and moaned with a century of wear. Narrow. winding aisles lead to forgotten tomes and arcane codexes .A collection of old wall clocks quietly ticked thier way into eternity. I could see a dusting of late autumn snow dance down through the multi-paned shop window. But I only stayed in there a moment or two and quickly retreated back out to the cold, gray cobbles, afraid of what I might do. But I knew her now and she was part of my existence. Fair Sarah. My Sarah. My maiden of the night. And that is how it began.... Please, let me just sit for a while. It all comes rushing back. But I promise to tell you more. But please, just let me rest. I need to be still. I need to count my dreams.

the book of sarah

First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction. I have fed. I'm good for another month. I told you about my mortal boyhood in old Andalusia, back before I was known as Thomas. I'll tell you more later. But now I want to speak of more immediate concerns. It's like that after I feed. There's a feeling of intoxication. I get manic and my mind tends to jump from one thing to another. I have visions during the daylight hours when I 'sleep.' I see people deserved  of death. It's like I am God's pruning shears and it's my job to nip 'it' in the bud. .That explanation is as  good as any. I just nipped a crooked cop. Cop-cop-cop-cop-cop. After all these centuries I still get a charge out of using  the common vernaculars. You have good ones today, but they had even better ones in Restoration England. Wait till I calm down and I'll tell you some. They say I look like Antonio Banderas. Do you know who he is?  Well, I guess that's possible, for we are both sons of Iberia. But I look like a very young Antonio Banderas, for I was  lost to the daylight in the third month of my eightteenth year. I was on a pilgrimage with my father . We traveled with a retinue of thirty retainers to confer with the great Rashi at his rabbinical court in the south of what you now call France. It was determined that I would give my life to The Faith and become a respected teacher of The Scriptures. That was our way. We had done so for generations. And although not of the Davidic line,  we are descended from the Hasmonean Dynasty, a hellenistic Judean family that ruled in the first and second century B.C.E.. So that wouldn't have made me a king, but it would have made me a prince... Defender of the Peace of Jerusalem... Great Steward of God's throne ... and all that. Yet such was not my fate, for before we reached the manor of the great
Rashi, I was taken, never to benefit from his knowledge or to sample the worthy wines from his vinyards. Please, remind me  to tell you about Sarah. I may not be able to speak with you for a few days. The life of a 'vampire' can be complicated. But when I do, please remind me. There are things that you should know.

Philadelphia After Dark the book of Sarah

First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction. I'm Thomas. We met last night. I'm a life eater, or what you would call a vampire. We never use that word. It belongs to the various Inquisitions that have come and gone through humanity in the last few thousand years. But I am a realist and if you prefer to use that term, I will accept it. Although I've been in Philadelphia for the last threehundred and thirty years.., I did not start here. My home was in the south of Spain, in the region known as Andalusia. Indeed, at the time of my birth, it was still called Al-Andaluz, as it came under the sovereignty of the Caliphate of Cordoba. My family occupied a walled villa in the city of Sevilla, where my grandfather was an adviser to the Caliph. Ours was a world of tinkling fountains, cool tiled floors and verdant courtyards. It was said that when my mother left our home her feet never touched the ground, for she rode upon a liter borne by four matched Osetians. My esteemed father was a Biblical and Talmudic scholar of the first rank. And when I became a Child of the Covenant at thirteen years of age, none other than Prince Hassan himself (the eldest son of our beloved Caliph) presented me with a two year old white Arabian from his own renowned stables. All men were brothers in our land. Trinitarians (what you would call Christians) mingled freely with Muslims and Jews, who were both of a Unitarian bent. There were also a few Hindu and Buddist travelers in our midst. Some were scholars and some were traders.  We all shared in tne marketplace of knowledge and ideas, at least those of us who were not slaves, eunichs or concubines. My life should have been secure and complacent, but Lilith stirred the waters of my existence and I was transformed into what I am today. Please, it pains me to speak of such things. Just know that I will tell you when the time is right. I will tell you of how I lost my true name and became Thomas. And I will tell you about Sarah and what we did to her. But tonight is the dark of the moon. It is the night when I feed. Once a month, with the icy dispatch of a cobra. And I take my feast on those deserving of death. Let me return to my nightly ablutions (I roam  the shadows even on the nights when I do not feed) and ready myself  for my ordeal. Some nights I just sit on a bench and watch the show go by. On other nights I've found myself staring at my relection in a shop window for hours. People would gather around and watch.  They think I am one of those human mannikins. Well, maybe I  am..... a mannikin of humanity. 

Philadelphia After Dark the book of Sarah

First of all, we must agree that what comes next is fiction. Please excuse any errors made in the use of this device. It is new and very strange to me. I grew up in an age of bee's wax candles and ink made from the crushed bodies of little cuttle fish. Contemporary forms of  'electronic' magic make me dizzy. The new, wide screen colour televisions scare me. It's as if lurid paintings in old frescoes  suddenly spring to life. Lipstick scares me too. Greasy face paint. All of it. I suppose that's because I am a being of the night and accustomed to a more subtle form of illumination. My name is Tomas and I have been here since the time of the first Lord Protector, William Penn. The red brick, cobbled, mellow by-ways suit me. The small, multi-pane windows. The marble front steps. The accents with their broad vowels and sharp, hard curb-side inflections. Philadelphia provides a natural stage for the nocturnal arts. You know. You saw that movie, The Sixth Sense. Be brave. Take a midnight stroll through the silent, narrow mews of  the old city. I'll see you there. But fear not, for I have never taken an innocent soul in more than three hundred years. Well, almost never. There are vows. There are rules and most of us 'rarely' break them. At least  the other  life-eaters I share the town with. You'll meet them. Perhaps you've already seen them? Perhaps you've already seen me. Maybe you've heard me whistling in the dark. The Teddy Bears Picnic is a favorite of mine. When you go out in the woods tonight, you're in for a big surprise.  The nighttime streets of the city are like woods, you know, filled with scared, little rabbits and quick, sly foxes. But me?  I'm more like a snake, or maybe a cat, a cold, patient, fastidious killer. I'm careful and I'm neat. And please know that it's not just me. I've never known a vampire to hiss, or thrash about like a  peasant with the Saint Vitus Dance. You'll have to forgive those arcane references. That was an old and much feared malady, from my day. You see, I came over with the Quakers, but I was 'seasoned' even then. Come back. Come back some night when you crave a little more. And may you never know pain. May you never know fear. May you hide from death now and for forever...... Come back....... I'll be here....... Bienvenido al mundo vampirismo!..... Welcome to the VAMPIRE WONDERLAND!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is how it started three years ago. The first year brought nothing, maybe a few hundred hits at most. Year two took us to the 10,000 point. Year three finds us at 106,000 page views. Maybe not 'viral,' but definitely 'fungal' to say the least.

If you like my brand of weird, pixilated and often twisted paranormal tale telling start here and click on NEWER POST at the bottom, or pick and chose from the whole shebang here~> click on THE WHOLE SHEBANG .....I call it Vampire Wonderland, but they don't run this joint. They just work here. Some months we hardly mention them at all. Visit all the 'arcs.' My favs are THE LITTLE MATCH BOY... EL RANCHO TEXACO... BINGO BOY...MARIANNE IN BRITCHES and that's all I can remember right now. Just GOOGLE any of those titles plus 'by Billy Kravitz' and you'll be right there.... Join our interesting, varied and media oriented timeline on Twitter... a very supportive group. Click on ~> @wilkravitz ... and start screaming, ranting, bragging and pontificating along with the rest of us. Now let me go back to watching Chevy Chase and his family finish their Vegas Vacation. Danke Schoen... (hope I spelled it right)..... Some day, please God, let us all be Mister Papagiorgios....