ZEBULON TELLS WHAT HE KNOWS

Johnny Jump Up rarely crawled into the same hole twice. Each dawn, as the light took over, he squeezed into a different, moldering crevase. Bugs were his friends. Rats were his cousins. You might have walked right by him. They got old, mellow vignettes all over this town. An atmospheric bit of decay here. A crumbling stone foundation there. And he has a home. Considering the trim dimensions of his body, house hunting is never a problem. You know those crawl spaces passing for attics you see everywhere around here? He loves those. I cannot tell you how many times he's slept right above the bedroom ceilings of row houses and converted pied a terres. Makes you wonder what them little noises are. Settling? Could be. But it could also be something else. Now I can't tell you who Johnny Boy is, his 'soul' I mean. He, or it, keeps that a secret. Look, you know disembodied spirits are all over the place. I am one, but you trust me. Zebulon is all right. And Papa can send his soul out wherever he wants. He just got back from those mantaray people on Europa. Remember his sojourn as 'The Shaky Hand Man'? Well, I figure that boney one ain't no different. Only he ain't exactly disembodied no more. He got his hidey-hole. He got his flesh bag. A little emmaciated, but a home is a home. I don't know? That's tonight's theory. Other nights I feel that 'beloved son' is still in there. Could be wedged in with another spirit, or he could be alone, or he could be somewhere else. I just do not know. Baylah has her ideas. She looked into it too. She checked up. On the third day after this premature burial thing all started, they hung a man over in the hangin' yard. That's where City Hall Courtyard rests today. You know that twenty foot bronze compass rose they got sunk into the granite paving? That's the original 'X marks the spot.' That's where the gallows stood. The center of the X is right under where the trapdoor used to be. Yeah, a lot of dancin went on over there. But on this 'third day' we're talkin' about, they hung a bad one, a baby eater. That's what they called him. He must a been crazy, or just really, really hungry, but he made good, hot suppers outta four little, fat suckers.. It was in all the papers. They even made a play about it. Ran over on Walnut Street, behind the gas lights for months. Ladies used to scream. Some of 'em would faint. A few pissed themselves. But with all the extra skirts and poofy stuff they wore, who knew? I guess the 'colored girl' or the Irish one they had back home knew when she had to steam the stink out of it , but that didn't count. So we are working on this. Baylah is collaborating with Edith. The Red Paints ain't doin' nothin'. They just chant and shuffle 'round a little. I don't know. Maybe they work with spirits I ain't met yet?

Marianne and Celeste (the two elf girls) have the little ones out for a 'fly.' It's real late. And they got lotsa trees 'round here. Besides, any folks seein' them gonna chalk it up to one too many martinis. A lot a genteel drinkin' goes on around here, don't you know. What  did you think? Did you think all them carefully dusted, glittering bottles of fancy hallucenogenic beverages they got arranged in panelled bars 'round here were knick-knacks?? Hell no. They got ceramic porcelain dogs for that. Papa ain't filmin' no more. That was 'a wrap.' I figure you should be able to see that nasty piece of business on the web in about two weeks. He won't care. Human stuff is just monkey business to him. But he did get Luna a real nice emerald bracelet. And he pleasured her all up and down real good, so that gold digger was satisfied. Believe me. I was hiding up in a corner by the crown molding. I saw the whole thing. No disembodied spirit gotta wait for internet porn 'round this house. But Sarah's a good girl. She's real quiet about it. Her I like. Lemme go waft over to the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau and remind Jonathon to get home before the sun shines. That old, Doctor Franklin can be a tricky one. Besides, I feel like makin' Muggs (the killer, vampire monkey) jump around and scream a little. He does put on quite a show. They should put that on the web. Get more hits than that Justin Beiber, I betcha..............

COME AND LISTEN TO A STORY......

Papa/Jimmy woke up from his Europa jag with Luna. But then he ditched her and went out solo, all decked out in some Dolce & Gabana yada, yada. Now he's hooked up with two flight attendants in the 'honeymoon suite' of some trendy, boutique hotel near the Parkway. Do they know about his peculiar dietary restrictions? No. He likes to keep that private. And actually, after twenty eight thousand years, I don't think he's even aware of it anymore. It's just a given. It's just the way he is. Some people are lactose intolerant and other people are all powerful, life-eaters. Who the hell has to know? One of the girls, the blond , nibbles around the fringes of showbusiness. She wants to be like a centerfold or an actress or something, only she ain't got no 'unauthorized' sex tape yet. And time is runnin' out. Cause like one of her boobs is startin' to go a little crazy. She can't get it to lay right. You've heard of havin' a bad hair day? Well, you can imagine the problems one lop-sided, tempermental jug can create. The other one, the auburn haired  goddess, don't care one way or the other. But the suite is nice. And they got the camera all set up. And the rich guy (Jimmy/Papa) is really hot, so yeah. If that's what she wants to do, fine. Now I'm sure Papa must be wondering why they want him to play to stage right all the time. I mean he's good natured that way. And multiple takes don't phase him a bit. Lucky he was in such good shape when Renate 'turned' him. Let me tell you, the three of them put on quite a show. They really give this vacuum cleaner a thorough demonstration. Should be a big seller. Should get the blond one a lot of attention. Maybe a spot on Celebrity Apprentice? Maybe a cushy second wife gig. And it's not like they ain't never showed no vampires on You Tube before. Our veteran readers must know what I'm talking about. Ooooh...They're playing 'doggie at the vet.' God is she a good actress. Almost makes me cry. Luna will shit herself (figuratively, I mean) when she sees this. She thinks they have some kind of understanding.... Yeah, he's the boss. That's it. That's the understanding.....

Good thing some of the night crawlers are responsible. Jonathon's working on a plan to get Johnny Jump Up. He figures maybe some kind of exorcism ought to do it. One of the Laurel Hill ghosts, the mistress of an 1880's railroad baron, thinks it's a case of 'cuckoo in the nest.' Let me explain it to you. J.J.U.'s death was so traumatic, that psychic waves pulsed  out in all directions. Oh, the 'beloved son' is gone. He's floatin' around somewhere where beloved sons go. But some other asshole, who didn't like being dead no more, managed to shimy his way into the corpse and prance around in it. Kinda like sneakin' into the picture show without a ticket. And that's who we're dealing with. He's havin' a quiet mumble with Doctor Franklin right now. Jonathon, I mean. Seems maybe the Great Armonica might be able to do something. Sure, Papa could probably set things right with a little nose twitch. But he just doesn't see these things. The other vampires are not much more than jazzed-up humans to him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've gone over it. He knows the 'right thing' and he'll do it when he has to. Only you gotta throw a brick at his head to make him notice

Sarah's listening to show tunes over at Baylah's. That old piano player's really payin' off. Annie's 'googling' everything she can find on Disney World. Oh, God...That's gonna be a battle. And the rest of the magical menagerie (Edith and the other humans) are off stuffin' themselves at an all you can eat, Chinese buffet....Who'd I forget?  Lemme see...Oh, yeah, wilkravitz.....He's out with the elves. But they ain't doin' nothin' special. I think they're lookin' for sneakers.....I don't know. I think it's sneakers..It's always sneakers......So it's just me, Zebulon the disembodied spirit and that Little Bastard Annie, holdin' down the fort...keepin' the porch light burnin'...and watchin' some son-of-a-bitch, never-ending BeverlyHillbillies marathon on TV......Y'all come back now. Hear?

GOSSIPING GHOSTS TELL TALES OF THE DEAD

So the next night, Jonathon went out with Albion. He had spoken with his best 'familiar' before the dawn and he knew about the flight. and he knnew about their sighting. This time he was the guest. They did not fly. They sublimated through the atoms of creation until coming to a stop within the boundaries of Laurel Hill. Albion liked this death-park. He and the others sometimes played there. And although it is the spot where the little cherub, known as Mary French, met her demise, he still could not forget the good times. So they recondensed near an old mausoleum and walked on. The elf spoke in his quiet voice. He told Jonathon of the ghosts inhabiting the place. He shared the secrets. Who were these gossiping spirits? Nobody special. Just dead folks. And they weren't always there. At times they rested on a higher plane. But there were those occasions when reunions were held. Families got together for visits, each member drifting back from their own particular sojourn in the cosmos (both physical and spiritual). They usually avoided people. But elves were different. And so they spoke. Albion asked for certain nuggets concerning the boney one. Oh, they knew who he meant, especially those who had died in the nineteenth century. Strange things happened then. Premature burials were common. How did they know? Well, sometimes a grave would have to be moved. And sometimes coffins were opened. Now dead people aren't supposed to squirm around after we plant them. Sure, they might slide a little up to the head of the casket, or maybe down toward the foot. You know, like a sleeping infant that gets all scrunched up against the bars of its crib? And that's usually the result of careless pall-bearers. But on occasion the eternally sleeping would be completely repositioned. How? Let me see....Like maybe turned over on their stomach, as if trying to force the lid with their back......Well, lots of luck with that. Do you know how much hard packed dirt weighs? Poor old Uncle Toby was gonna sufficate no matter how strong he was.  So families started taking precautions. Thin, little copper tubes would  come up through the coffin lid, running right on till they popped out the ground like morbid flowers. They'd tie a red string around Aunt Libby's emmaciated wrist, run the other end through the tube and tie a little silver bell to it. Then, if the old piece a baggage decided she wasn't quite dead enough, all she had to do was shake her arm bones a little and ring for help. Good system.....Worked too.......But times were hard back then. Not everybody could afford fancy silver bells. And those recently resurrected from coffin ships, sometimes made the rounds searching for shiny souvenirs. Oh, it was so easy. A little snip here. A little snip there. And a family might eat for a week or two. Besides most of them what's been planted ain't gonna start breathin' anyway. Trouble was, some of 'em never stopped breathin'. Who could really tell back then? The doctors? Pah-leez! The only thing they could sniff out was money. Specially them what had rich folks for clients. So, and you probably figured this out by now, Johnny Jump Up was one of the unlucky ones. He started out as a beloved son in a rich family. But a fever took him (that's why he looks so bad). And they put him in the cold, cold ground. Yes, precautions were taken. He had the thin, copper tube. He wore the red cord. He had a silver bell. But not for long.....Some cheap, little urchins clipped it. And it went to pay for Pa's drink and Ma's laudinum. The beloved son was left to die. Now a tiny bit of air was able to make it down the tube, just enough for him to gasp and cough and choke for three  long days. On the fourth day, the caretakers discovered they'd read the plans wrong. The beloved son was encroaching on Mrs. Gottrocks' territory. So they dug him up and proceeded to scootch him over a bit, leaving more room for any dead Gottrocks relatives. One of the gravediggers said that they had to open the box and make sure it was him. What he really wanted to do was go jewelry shopping. Yeah, yeah, yeah...you know what I mean. So he cracks open the lid....and they hear whistling inside. Can you imagine? Right there, late at night in the middle of a tombstone-crowded, damp, mossy cemetery. I think it was She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain When She Comes...I don't know. Zebulon knows so little of country music . The crew-mates thought he was joking them and they laughed. But when that boney arm shot out and crushed his wind pipe, that kind a took the humor out of it. The crew-mates ran away. And Johnny Jump Up came out to play............Come back later. I'll tell you more.....

LISTENING IN THE DARK...AND FLYING TOO

First of all, we must agree, that what comes next, is fiction. Yet what is it to speak of fantasy or reality in a place where such things happen, in a place populated by vampires, ghosts and demons? This is me. It is wilkravitz. There is no Zebulon tonight. He is not in me. He is not near me. I don't know where he is. I don't care. Albion came back for me. There were still a few more hours of darkness. He thought I might benefit from a bit of elfin magic. So I went. I went out with him. And he took me up above the city. We dashed about through the starlight, on a chilly, April night. There is a thing they do. The elves, I mean. It enables mortals and ectremely untalented vampires to fly with them. Actually, it's very simple. All the elf has to do is bite into the inside of his wrist. Then, when the blood begins to flow, he, or she draws in a mouthful and swishes it around a little. After a few heartbeats they spit it out. No, more than just that, they spray it out all over their intended flying partner. It forms a glittery mist as soon as it hits the air. There's nothing gory about it. Did you ever read Peter Pan? Did you ever see one of the movies. Then you know. It's, what could you call it? It's pixie dust. And it gave me the power to fly. I don't remember. Sometimes I think we did this before. But living with the vampires confuses me. And I cannot differentiate between what is real and what is something else as well as I used to. But I went up. I did. And it was wonderful. He stayed right by me. I assume he guided me in some way. And we flew over the city. It did not take long to go from Chestnut Hill down into the central districts,. So I assume we must have been travelling at a great speed. But once we were there, moving between the lofty towers, we slowed down and descended a bit. Could people see us? Under normal conditions yes. But how could you call this normal? You want to know what I think? I think the elves have a cloaking ability. Yeah, I know, like the Romulans. That's a Star Trek reference. But I think you know what I mean. So we explored at a leisurely pace, slowly snaking in and out of the buildings. Now it was very late, maybe three or four in the morning. Except for the after hours places, the clubs were empty. The streets were nearly diserted. And steam rose from the manhole covers. This was the haunted time. Even in a city without enchanted creatures this would have been the haunted time. A few whores sold marked-down, quicky treats in an effort to wrap up their shift and turn in. An isolated patrol car moved in and out of the shadows. And those working strange hours quickly trotted  to and from the subway. All was quiet. A siren far in the distance. The lonely sound of a train whistle. A muffled growl, hopefully from a canine. And then we saw him, sitting on a rooftop. A townhouse it was. He just sat there with his feet hanging over the back alley. But he was not alone. Johnny Jump Up, I mean. There was a woman with him. But she was dead. And he laid her across his lap, as he tore off strips of flesh and shoved them down his pie-hole. We hovered there, watching. I know we made no sound. I was afraid to even breathe. The white-gray skull-like face. The boney fingers. The long, dirty nails. The greasy hair. The filed teeth. The bloody chin. He couldn't have been more than twentyfive feet below us. And I'm sure the monster could have vaulted up and grabbed me had he wanted to. But he did not do it. All he did was raise his sickening claw and nod. You could call it a salute. And then he grinned. It was absolutely horrible in the true sense of the word. We stayed there for a while. He didn't care. He went right back to his meal. She looked so naked and pathetic in the moonlight. Finally, Albion made a little 'pffft' sound. And then we drifted off, returning to the substantial house among the gentry. In the time that remained before the other vampires came back, he whispered secrets and stories that the ghosts had told him..........

TO EACH HIS OWN

Papa could get the creature. He could destroy that Johnny Jump Up thing if he wanted to. But he did not care. True, he understood what was right and what was wrong. He usually did what was right, because it was easier. That's why he reconstituted the other vampires. That's why Sarah and the little ones were cured. That's why they're not garden ornaments anymore. Doctor Franklin sent word. He wanted to speak with Papa. But he has not yet responded . You know what he's doing now? He's communing with organisms on Europa. It's a moon, a moon of Jupiter. And it has a  world-wide, ice crust covered, salt-water sea. He's there now. Well his soul is. And he's got Luna (in the spirit form) there with him. They're gliding through the Endless Ocean with the mantaray people. That's what they are. They live there. And they're almost exactly like the rays on Earth. Why shouldn't they be? Both species were shaped by the same environment. So he's drifting weightlessly through a photolumenescent realm, in the company of the Europan King and his entourage. Luna was a bit nervous. This was her first experience with royalty. And if you want me to be truthful about it, the Dowager Empress and the First Wive absolutely hated her. But since they were intrigued by the ancient Earth, blood-drinker, they put up with his new, uncouth sex partner. It's not like they had to share delicacies with her. she was, after all, only there in spirit, rather like a holigram. Good, that meant more ice worms for themselves. And she couldn't upset the courtly, royal gavottes, for the noble assemblage could pass right through her. Besides, that Earth creepy-crawly can't maintain spiritual strength forever. They'd be leaving soon.......That's what Papa did. That's how he escaped. Zebulon has seen it many times before. He cares for nothing save his own comfort and enjoyment. What? You're thinking about the other night when he gave the little ones their names? Oh, it was all quite real to him then. But (and stop me, if you've heard this before) that was then and this is now. So Jonathon was out wandering the streets . He wasn't alone. Edith went with him. They tried to sniff out the fiend. They tried to avenge the victims. Poor Aura. Poor Sylvia. Such innocent, (though not carnally) nubile girls they were. Each willing to give you the panties right off her loins. They  did not deserve that. Besides saying prayers on their behalf, Jonathon also donated a sum to an organization for the planting of 'memorial trees' in their names, in 'The Holy Land.' That wasn't difficult. A call to a 'familiar' and it was done. But now Edith started humming some Piney mantra. She felt something. She smelled it. A stench. A vile corruption eminating out of the ether. Her thousand year old Andalusian companion grabbed snatches too. But the creature was elusive, so they wandered the red brick byways and ultimately discovered nothing. Luckily no one else died. Johnny Jump Up was quiet that night. A little later, they met Sarah at Baylah's cozy, warm piano bar, where they all commiserated over pungent candles or fortifying cocktails. The music was good. Some old gent warbled his way through the combined George Gershwin/Cole Porter songbook. A few of the patrons joined in. Such a comfortablle was to end a frustrating evening. But the elves were a bit luckier, for they had been whispering through graveyards. They had been speaking with ghosts. Vampires traditionally had little truck with such entities, prefering to rely on their own enchanted capabilities. But the 'younger ones' were not so huffy. And they shared things and learned things from the often lonely dead ones.............

SHUT YOUR EYES AND STICK THEM FINGERS IN YOUR EARS

Aura and her sister Sylvia missed Jonathon. Actually, I do not know if they were blood sisters. Sometimes I think they are. But that is beside the point. They love each other and share everything. They even shared Jonathon. He'd snuggle in with them down some undreground tunnel and all three would have a good time. Sponge baths were their favorite. But that's when he was living with them, back when Papa/Jimmy first came and went berserk. Jonathon always used the mole people in emergencies. They were good for that. He liked the dark tunnels and all the safe hidey-holes. Aura and her 'sister' liked them too. They had private, little alcoves scattered all through Philadelphia's underground passageways. It was their world. They were born there. Now they were laying down, reading some two year old fashion magazine by the orange glow of a sterno fire when the noises started. Little noises they were, no more than rat scufflings. But still somewhat strange. Aura whispered - Who is that? Who's there?....She figured somebody from their band was sneaking up, trying to scare them. The boys would do that sometimes. It's just that she recognized their footsteps and these were different. More bouncy. More jumpy. I don't know. They were just different. Aura wore a big flannel shirt over some flimsy, rayon pajama pants. Sylvia was dressed more or less the same. Then the sterno light flickered. Somebody was moving toward them, disturbing the air currents and kicking up a little, baby breeze. Aura froze, trying to pick up something. She pulled her shirt tight around her and moved close to Sylvia. But when that one scootched in more to make  room, she knocked over the can and the flame went out. Now it was dark, real dark. You  probably never seen darkness like this. It was just like being dead, except you still felt your heartbeat and your brain could think about things.

Whoever was making them crazy noises hopped up a little bit closer. Sounded like he was bouncin' along on the balls of his feet. The girls whispered to each other. You know the kind of stuff...Keep quiet. Don't make any noise. I'm scared. You're scared. We're all scared. Then they heard the whistling. Some song it was. I did  not recall the name. Maybe it was not a real song. Maybe it was just whistling. They pressed into each other. The footsteps stopped. Whoever it was wasn't moving. But then they heard the weak, scratchy laughter and they knew he was close. Things stayed like that for the longest while. Aura got brave. She said - Why you doing this? Why you scarin' us?.....But nobody answered. Sylvia started to cry. She tried not to, but she couldn't help it.

The person, or thing, or whatever it was got down on all fours and crawled closer. They could hear it scrapping over the dirt. Sylvia moaned. She started to wheeze. It was her asthma, don't you know. Then Aura yelped, 'cause somethin' cold, real cold touched her leg. Very light. She could hardly feel it. But she knew it was there, brushing the skin right above her ankle. And that cold, light, brushin' sensation started over on her other ankle too. she whispered - No, No, No......And them she screamed, as strong, dead hands grabbed her shin bones and yanked her away from her 'sister.'. The thing stood up and started to run backwards, dragging her through the gravel-strewn dirt.

Sylvia just layed there, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. And she heard it all, as her best soul mate was devoured alive. She heard the fragile hand bones snap. She heard the kicks, the desperate gasps, the shreiks. She heard the bowels let go and the sickening stench as he ripped into the stomach and tore out the entrails But then it was over. Aura was dead. Yet the hellish meal went on. And when he was done, Johnny Jump Up crawled back to do the same to her.

A few miles away, in a secure chamber deep within the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau Doctor Franklin watched, as J. Fred Muggs killed a victim. The killer monkey screamed with glee, jumping and bouncing and clapping its big ape hands, as the naked 'criminal' trembled in a corner of the cement lined pit. Others from the Bureau watched too. This was something to see, a vampire chimp takes his first meal in captivity. Notes were taken. Recordings were made, both video and audio. It was said a boot-legged version sold on Broad Street for forty dollars. One version made it to the internet. But Zebulon gets away from himself. Remains of the pulverized young man littered the slick, gray floor. There was no cold, blue flame to clean things up a bit. Two low level workers came in to wash everything away with a big hose. But the monkey didn't care. He barely noticed them, 'cause he was all curled up in a bloated stupor sleepin' off his  fine repast.

This sure is some kinda wonderland...Ain't it?

WERE THE SHLEESTACKS REAL?

This is Zebulon. I am not helping any of those selfish others (both enchanted and not so enchanted) right now. But I was just wafting through the akoshic records and came across somethings you might like to know. Oh, I did know them. But I had forgotten these juicy, little tidbits. So lets go.

Humans are not the first time intelligent life has appeared on this world. It happened during the age of the egg-laying ones, the reptiles. True, they were not the scaled creatures you know. These fantastical beings had feathers, fabulous coats of many colors. Some were short and rather like penguins or what we see on horses (yes, that's not feathers, but you get the idea). Others trailed flamboyant trains of opalescent beauty. Did you see that dancing picture show about life on a world called Pandora? Well, this was a lot like that.

Now certain residents of this biosphere, were neatly made creatures. They walked on two legs. They had hands. And their brains were 96% the size of yours. But when we take into consideration the fact that they only stood five feet tall, that's no mean feat indeed. What were their faces like? Look to the ostrich, but with a shorter bill and a rounder cranium. Fossils have been discovered. And they appear to bear the imprint of tools and weapons. Some feel they had a culture roughly equivalent to woodland tribes in what was to become the Eastern United States, circa 1700 C.E.. Quite an accomplishment, farms, sturdy woodframed dwellings, pottery, pictographic writing, yada, yada, yada, lots of neat toys and everything. What happened to them? We  don't know? Did that pesky asteroid kill them? Probably not. Other creatures their size made it through. It could have been an illness of some kind. Perhaps they suffered from a genetic bottleneck. You know...too inbred....a prehistoric, reptilian form of Deliverence....Ach! They run that film in the akoshic records all the time. Zebulon loves it.....There was a book that appeared a few of your years ago, called Evolution. No, not the one by Darwin. This was penned by someone else. I will have to float through certain akoshic galleries and find out. But in it the author hinted at such things, though couched as fiction. Rather like our VAMPIREWONDERLAND saga. I don't know what happened to that wordsmith. I don't know. But the next time you look a chameleon in the eyes, think about what might have been........