The VAMPIRES Want YOU to 'like' STUFF on Billy Kravitz' FACE BOOK PAGE...OK?

Look at the BEAUTY IS AS BEAUTY DOES episode appearing right under this. Please READ IT. I can't stay up late enough tonight to 'channel' a new one. But this one is VERY WORTHY OF YOUR ATTENTION. Check out the new COMMENT POLICY  (at the bottom of the BEAUTY IS... post) too. It may THROW SOME TRAFFIC YOUR WAY.


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vampire wonderland: BEAUTY IS AS BEAUTY DOES..... VAMPIRES SHARE THE B...

vampire wonderland: BEAUTY IS AS BEAUTY DOES..... VAMPIRES SHARE THE B...: We're half way 'round the Sun since last THANKSGIVING. This episode ran back then. Can't post a new one tonight. Must retire  (ZZZzzzZZZ) a...

Edith and Baylah drink a toast to DONNA SUMMER

First of all, before we start, let me direct your attention to a little bon-bon left as a COMMENT after yesterday's post by the great Southern tale spinner, O.G. Tomes, where she gives us a peek into one of her latest books A TEST OF FAITH. Reads like a movie. I like that. Go to http://ogtomes.blogspot.com for more. A 'clickable' link at bottom of comment.


                    AND NOW, BACK TO OUR SHOW


Vampires have trouble with tattoos. It's not a question of infections, or things like that. Microbes cannot harm them. But the pigment tends to disappear. It just dissolves and goes away. How they excrete it, I do not know. Zebulon is not an alchemist.  But I do know they leave no scat and pass no water. However, they do perspire. A light dewiness appears on the skin. So perhaps it escapes that way? They continue on as they were at the time of transformation, preserved as if in amber. 


Baylah has a tattoo, a small one. I believe it represents some pre-Islamic Tuareg talisman. It's on the outer side of her left wrist... a small, black stylized camel spider, applied while still a mortal. 


Edith admired it. They're having tea right now, snug in the little, jewel-box apartment above the piano bar. I can hear the muffled tinkling of the show tunes wafting through the floor. Baylah can drink tea. Not too much. Just a little. She lets it slide down drop by drop. Tomas can tolerate certain varieties of distilled spirits. That's just the way it is. Papa can handle thick, yeasty beer...and occasionally a chewy pine nut. Don't ask me about the pine nuts. Perhaps it has to do with his great antiquity? 


Now he's singing 'Last Dance.'  It isn't a show tune, but not all of them are. Baylah got to know Donna Summer back in the early days. She'd appear in small, South Street clubs. Baylah loves to dance. Well-off admirers  squired her about the city in stylish Cadillac El Dorados. You know the cars, the ones with those discreet, little  'opera' windows. Miss Summer never knew she was a vampire. Not everyone can handle that. Some believe the lies spawned by The Inquisition. Others fear magic of any kind. Still, Baylah did give her a small vial, a beautiful, faceted crystal thing, like a pendant. And you know what was inside. It held a few drops of her blood... relics of a 'saint' not truly dead. I know they were in contact over the years. Some letters passes. Some phone calls. Maybe they spoke of the magic? Maybe she knew the truth by then? But she never drank the 'special drug' inside..... Pity. Zebulon cannot tell you where she is on my side now. I do not know. Death is a big place spanning many Heavens and countless Hells. I have only been to some of them. And think on this~~~ to be dead for a heartbeat, or for a billion years is all the same to us. Dead is dead is dead. I have heard of some who reincarnate and go back....like widows returning to Florida. But I have never done it.... not yet.


So the two unusual creatures, the Piney witchy-woman and the Sub-Saharan former princess sit at the small, polished dining table in the lavish pied a terre and raise a cup to the vanished diva, as the last well dressed, tipsy patrons exit the cozy piano bar down below. If it  was winter, the cold air would refresh them. But this is May, when such things never happen.


Most vampire nights are devoid of drama, though poignant just the same.


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And for a different take on the VAMPIRE genre, take a look at the very well received, BEST SELLING  books by ANDREW HARDING at http://AHardingBooks.com a delicious melange of THE MENTALIST meets CSI with a dash of enchantment and a healthy dose of NINE AND A HALF WEEKS..... a REALLY HEALTHY DOSE!!

I HATE BEING SLAMMED AGAINST THE CEILING< BUT SOME VAMPIRES DON'T SEEM TO GET THAT

I wasn't going to blog tonight. Thought I'd sleep. Never do that anymore. Maybe get like three or four hours, sometimes during the dark, sometimes by day. Everything's mixed up and has been since Tomas started to communicate again. For a while all that 'parallel universe' stuff scared him. It was SO real...because it WAS real. And then he was back here. Edith says 'time' can be like that. She knows. The Red Paint People tell her things. ...... Yeah, they're still here. Not in the city. Not in Philadelphia. They stay out in the Pines. Edith was out there too. But she came back today. She does that when it gets hot. Won't go down into the tunnels with the mole people, like Papa and Annie and Tomas and Sarah. Says it gives her the 'heebie-geebies.' She stays with Baylah. They live up above the piano bar... a jewel box of a place. Best of all, it's air conditioned. Edith needs that. You see, she's plagued by prickly heat.


Those tunnels don't bother me. They're dry and the old fashioned 'subway' tiles are 'in' right now. We stay in what used to be a series of offices and storage rooms. Like Hitler's bunker, 'cept without all them baby killers..... Well, Annie's a baby killer. She does try to be good, every once in a while. Lasts for about two weeks. Then she 'forgets' and chews through the necks of  some college kids, or like maybe some old lady sleeping on a bus. They got drivers don't pay attention. You can do that late at night. They don't care. Well, if you're a vampire they don't care. Because they know the body's gonna burn up with that cold, blue flame and not leave too much of a mess. Gonna be 'some' gooey stuff, maybe a scrap or two. No worse than when a high school kids drops Kentucky Fried Chicken and the rest a them all walk in it. They don't HAVE to walk in it. But destructive squalor is fun, I guess.


My eyes are closed. She workin' me like a Howdy Doody. You know, like a puppet, like he was?  I am settin' in a dark, little old-timey office. Ain't got no rats. Mole people got ways to get rid of 'em. Though they do keep some cleaned-up, domesticated ones for food. Taste like ugly squirrel. What, you thought I was gonna say 'chicken?'..... No, it don't taste like chicken. It greasier, gamier. Sort a like what duck is too chicken. ..... You know how many little bones they got in a rat tail? Too many. It's remarkable. 


I wanna go pee and she knows it. But she won't let me. Nose runnin' too. I got a chin beard and one thing I hate is snot on a mustache. But I can't even move my hand to smear it away.


She want me to tell you 'bout all her killin'. Luna got her. She a relatively new vampirina. Papa kissed her up real good. He gave it to her. She used to be one a them secret types workin' with Doctor Franklin and the Anti-Enchantment Bureau. Wern't no vampire back then, just some doctor-scientist girl. Guess she craved a change. Looked cool and sexy in them lab coats. Still has a couple. Uses them when she hunts the hospitals late at night. 


Now they at The Eastern State Penitentiary. That a huge, two hundred year old dungeon/jail. Look like a ruin, but that just for the tourists. They let you go in there when it's day time. Papa knows somebody. so they open it up at night. Not for big crowds, or regular people. Just for Annie. Just for his 'little girl.'  She like what they do there. Stock the place wit' maybe four or five make believe criminals. Look, they very well might be criminals, but never been convicted. Know what I mean? She sniff 'em out. They try an' hide. But she get 'em every time. 


Jus' now she got some guy hidin' under a cot. It dark. It real dark. You can't see nothin' in there. He thought he was safe. He thought she was 'done.' You know, like at a all you can eat, Chinese buffet, when one more piece a dull, dry shushi gonna make you throw up? Only she not at that point yet. First he hear a scratchin'. Think it a mouse. Then he hear breathin'. Think it the wind. Them long passageways they got there got their own wind, so that could be. Next come the whistling. She do like Tomas. She learn it from him. Start a whistling - TEDDY BEARS' PICNIC.------ When you go out in the woods tonight, you're in for a big surprise........ Then she give him the surprise. That when she bite part a his foot off. And all them little bones what run from the ankle to the toes are very sensitive, you know. Blood gushin' all out. He screamin'. He cryin'. She suckin' it all up. Tomas don't like when we say 'suckin.' He say vampires do not suck. And he right, most a the time. But this 'Annie,' and she sucks.


Luna don't actually go wit' her. She sit wit' the guards, or  the watchmen, or whatever they are. They got a little television in that place where they go. Luna like talk shows. Jay, Dave. Jimmy, that Scotland guy, Carson. Kathy and Hoda. I like Hoda. Hope she smash that other one right in the face one day. Who you think win a fight, Charlie Rose, or David Letterman? Wouldn't that be somethin'? Bet people'd pay money to see that. They should do it. Give the money to charity or them Kardashians, or somethin'. Maybe they could each fight a Kardashian gal too.


Now she got her head pushed in a his guts, suckin' all the blood up outta his liver. Don't make no noise, but I can 'see' his mouth movin.'  Damn, I feel sorry for him. That must feel awful funny.


Do you like liver?......... I hate it.


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bloody liver bloody liver bloody liver bloody liver bloody liver bloody liver bloody


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LOST EPISODES ARE FOUND ..ALBION (an elferino) conjures them back from The Akoshic Records

ALBION found something while searching through our history. Approximately 18 postings were lost. We are plagued by all manner of enchantment, some benign and some not so benign. With the help of EDITH, our Jersey Pine Barrens Pow-Wow Woman, he was able to conjure them back from the AKOSHIC RECORDS. We have them now and will post them, along with new material, from time to time. Yet they are there, if you's like to find them. Scroll down, or use the RSS. Be privy to secrets unknown  to most. 


And come back later tonight, when we share the story of ANNIE and her prey.


We of THE VAMPIRE WONDERLAND thank you, as we post this from the safety of our dens.


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TOMAS a.k.a. Jonathon, continues - THE TRUTH IS IN THE TEETH

I am on the surface, strolling along the Head House Square, in Society Hill. I like this place late at night. Most of the motorized vehicles are gone. The people are gone too. And it looks as if I've stepped back two hundred  years. Granted, the shop windows ruin the illusion. But I do my best to ignore them. This is where the old farmers' market was located. Daytime visits were impossible. I'd have to come at night, in the wee, small hours of the morning when the Amish and Mennonites were setting up. 


Some of them recognized me. I don't mean they knew me by name. But they knew what I was. I never approached to close, not wanting to press the issue. But I watched. I observed. Once, I bought  some strawberries, just in order to experience such a normal, everyday thing. The good housewife looked for a market basket. I told her I had none. She smiled, bashfully, not knowing what to do with the large, wooden scoopful in her hand. So I took off my hat. You've seen those hats, a tall, 'Cholly Knickerbocker' from covers of The New Yorker, and told her to fill that. Her husband gave me a look. A dandified do-nothing, out for a night on the town. He almost hated me. But the young one, the child, knew. He gazed up at me through pale, straight bangs and said 'teufl-mann.'  That means devil-man. I reached out to muss his hair. But the father pulled him back. I offered him a penny. He would not take it. So I took my fruit-filled headgear and passed into the shadows. The rats ate well that night.


Baylah was there. In the city, I mean. We'd encounter each other. I'd tip my hat. She'd curtsy. Most took her for a rare hothouse flower, a well bred mulatto or quadroon. But she was a noble daughter of The Sahel. Not every group in Africa is dark. And a true princess too, I might add. Sold away by jealous kinsman. Her mistress did it to her. She passed on the burden. I did not know that female very well, and she disappeared soon after. That's when we made common cause.


She had the fine, small cat fangs too. So, in a sense, we were related. It's all in the fangs. And according to The Grantha-Danshh-Traa, the book I spoke of last night, they come in seven varieties ~~~ CAT, SNAKE, SPIDER, FISH, WOLF, BAT and DEMON. 


The baser types, the vile ones, are demons...sometimes bats. The noble breeds sport cat fangs..... or  occasionally a wolf. The rest are catch as catch can. Think of it as haplo-groups for the night folk. Like DNA for the dead.....Although, you know we really aren't that.


Now, I am off to taste a victim. I  will not kill tonight, but merely sample..... The proverbial ghost at the foot of the bed. Sometimes they scream. Sometimes they actually shit themselves. I laugh, then sublimate into the ether..... a bad dream going back to perdition. 


We 'vampires,' as you insist on calling us, do enjoy our games.


Perhaps one night I'll come to play with you?


But Annie does kill tonight. And next time you'll know how.....


Pull down the shade. Turn out the light. The lanes are 'live with 'creepers' tonight...


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The Vampires' BOOK OF FANGS

It is I, Tomas, also known as Jonathon. This one is now presently ensconced in safe quarters. I am back in the City Between the Rivers. In this case the Delaware and the Schuylkill. Philadelphia has been my home for centuries. I have slept in many places. Now, I 'bunk' with they who dwell in the deepest tunnels...the 'mole' people. It is quiet down here. The 'Enemy' cannot touch us. So I sit in a chamber, once part of a long forgotten and never used subway line, down beneath the narrow streets of China Town.


The orange glow of sterno suits me. Papa says it resembles tallow pots in old, Cro Magnon dwellings. We sit on silken cushions purloined from fine, brick, townhouses. At times I 'take' the hookah...... apple wood and cinnamon.... my favorite. Aura and Sylvia (they who now bear those names) massage me. And I, in turn, am free to tickle them. How large their eyes are. They glitter like diamonds. I suppose that's just an adaptation to the dark. And later, when I am done this tale, they'll 'pillow' with me. My 'Gold.' My 'Silver.' For that is what their names mean. And that is what they are.


But now, I have new truths to tell. We've sojourned together for twenty one months. Time to draw you deeper down the well. I know many recall LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO, that venerable book of vampire lore I bear from ancient Spain. You've seen things. You've peeked. I know it. The night world is intensely rich. And I am...very proud of it. But there are older books. Papa has one, as yet unmentioned... until now. He's off pleasuring some 'familiars' in Queen's Village. That's why I can talk..............Uhmmmm...wait...please wait.... Aura strokes my favorite spot. (deep sigh...and then an almost a purring sound)......... (low, breathy voice) Kindly permit me to collect myself. (he lays there, supine, as she 'refreshes' him with a cool, scented cloth)..... 


It's time to enter the fearful pages of the Grantha Danshh-Traa. I believe the words are proto Sanskrit, put down before the proverbial 'coming of the moon.'  And they mean 'the book,' or in this case, 'The Scripture of Fangs.'  Lineage is 'all' in the night world. We descend  from primal lines. Sarah came from me. I came from the one known as 'Papa' and he was whelped by the great, enduring she-creature known as Renate.


But there is more to it than that. Return when next the darktime comes again. And I will show you the lacework that holds YOUR world together.


We are the source of all things weird and wonderful. The font of all magic. The bearers of old burdens. Rememberers of spells.


Now  go. One of the mole people will lead you back up. And I hope our nakedness does not offend you, but it's so much more 'convenient' way down here...


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