We'll Meet Again. Don't Know Where. Don't Know When .. THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2/18/13

A few of the mortals left early. Cars came and took them away. I think they were glad to depart. Some humans take to the vampires and come back frequently. They like the talk. They like the atmosphere. It's probably therapy for them. Maybe they want to kill? But most never come back. Most try and forget.  The movie industry contingent is like that. Some think it's the thing to do, so they come. Buy a whole bunch of somber black outfits. Not just black. Some buy dark violet, gray, or hunter green too. Nice suede boots. This is just a diversion for them. 

Those souls left are all down in the great hall. 'King' Rafe gives a talk. It's his thing. Really like a gimmick. He has this ability to cause a 'voice' to spring forth from the ether through a point just in front of his face. Sometimes he sits there with a grin. Sometimes he's expressionless. But the voice always has a muffled, distant, metallic sound to it. Makes people feel cold. But they listen, because he's rich in years and exceptionally powerful. Not like Papa, or, dare I say, the Lady Renate, yet strong enough.  And it never makes sense. More like talking in tongues. Some say it's a seminal dialect of Vahmperigo, akin to ancient Basque.  But they're just guessing. One year he 'said' 'Klactu borada nicto' over and over for perhaps three thousand, two hundred and forty heartbeats. Vampires just sat there, staring into space, afraid to move. Once he transformed a supposedly disrespectful vampirino into an earthworm. No, not an earthworm. A blood-worm, I think it was. And he never brought him back. So now he exists, crawling through the mud, for all eternity, or whatever does actually constitute eternity in el mundo vampirido. I don't know what he's mumbling. sometimes it sounds like a prayer. But I don't know who he's praying to.

The space is dark. Not all dark, but almost. The fires are banked down. A headless, female harpist provides soft, harmonious chords in the shadows. No, this one is not the same one as Tomas and Sarah had upstairs, I believe he has a few of them.... captured daughters of a long dead king. Don't know where he keeps the heads. 

But it's like he's commanding some poor, impressionable life-eater to come forth for a 'release.' 'King' Rafe likes a good sublimation, he does.  Some try to melt back into the shadows, only that's impossible, because the dogs are here. The huge hounds silently pad 'round, pausing in front of whoever tries to be most inconspicuous. So most just sit there, breathing evenly and waiting for it to be over. 

A lone vampirino from Croatia clears his throat. Vampires don't get phlegm, so they know he wants to speak. Then he says three words --- I seek release... 'King' Rafe positively  claps and giggles like a little girl, as a tongueless functionary takes the 'young' man's hand and leads him toward destruction. 

He stands inside the inlaid, bronze circle and looks down. 'King' Rafe says - Who frees this soul?...And another vampirino of indeterminate nationality, stands up . All eyes fall upon him, as he scrapes back his chair and walks toward the spot, never slowing, never hesitating, nor swerving to the left, or to the right. Then he locks eyes with the victim, whispers 'Forgive me,' and sublimates right through him. 

Now, as Mister Never-you-Mind said last night, the one doing the walking cuts the still and quiet one to shreds. I don't know why the magic works that way. But it does. Fortunately, the vampirino of indeterminate nationality was a big man, so no part of the 'young' Croatian remained intact. And his body held its form for perhaps six heartbeats, before raining down onto the cold stones. 

'King' Rafe went - 'Awwwww.' But all could tell he was quite pleased.  No one moved, as the dogs lapped up the mess.

Then drinks were served. Icy, thick bottomed, glasses of Grey Goose, I think it was. They switch it up. The headless, long dead king's daughter played a song.... 'We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day.' .... 

After that it was over and everyone prepared to leave.  Annie stayed close to Tomas. She whispered - I don't think I like these vampires..... Tomas kissed the top of her head and guided her out through the commodious vestabule and toward the waiting limousine. Sarah, Baylah, Edith and wilkravitz followed.

All their things were already stowed inside and so they left. No one said much, as they slid through the cold, North country night, on the road to London.

Other night-folk did the same, leaving 'King' Rafe all alone. The hearths were cold. The wide expanse was dark, save for weak and silvery beams dancing in through small clerestory windows set high up, under the eaves.

And he threw out his arms and danced, til all the enchanted furnishings and what-nots, conjured especially for THE REVELS evaporated into the gloom and disappeared. 

After that, he simply walked into the ether and vanished. I don't know what happened to the tongueless functionaries. I really don't. 

But the old, great, venerable 'house' went back to its ruined state and slept. 

While somewhere up above, a lonely harp still played..

Adieu, from THE VAMPIRE REVELS...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
this is the last night to vote. please tweet this on TWITTER... I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of (kindly say something nice)...... thank you.  

LEFTOVER CATTLE-PEOPLE.. THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2/17/13

People got quiet. They wandered around the castle looking in all the old rooms. Some read ancient tomes in the library. 'King' Rafe has a big collection of ancient Vahmperigo (vampire dialect) works. Just in case you don't know, 'To Serve Man' is more or less a cook book. I think it goes back to Byzantine times. 

A few went skating on the pond. Some slaughtered left-over cattle-people. They had like a rodeo...like The Calgary Stampede. Couple Canadian life-eaters organized that. Annie went. Tomas and Sarah didn't want her to, but Larry was going and people said the dealers in Russia were only gonna sell 'em for dog food anyway... No, not dog food... cat food. I got confused. She dressed up like a cowgirl. Wonder if there ever was any real cowgirls? Baylah took her to this big store they had down the road. Like a TARGET or a CAREFOUR or something. They stay open til eleven o'clock, so it was OK. Baylah says let her learn what it's like. Let her see if she wants to wind up a 'noxious.' But Tomas is afraid that's exactly what she wants.  

Did it all out in the 'close.'  Let 'em run 'free.' Poor bastards. Imagine, they saw Tomas redeem some a them. But they didn't make the cut. Then they think they're gonna be cat food, only now it's bronco-time. Vampires were swoopin' down from the battlements yellin' Kai-Yai-Yippie-Yippie-Yay... But they don't know what cowboy supposed a be like, 'cause some a them got Davey Crockett hats on and that's all wrong. Gave 'em branding irons. Tongueless functionaries kept 'em hot. Each vampire get a different one. First they burnin' up cattle-people's butt cheeks. Then they look at all the ass welts and separate 'em so no vampire gets gypped. Each one gets to kill the ones they marked. Annie, bein' puny-like only got three, but two were real fat, so she was satisfied. A few God damned vultures went crazy. 'King' Rafe was laughing and laughing. then he go all catatonic again. 

Human guests get buffet too. Give 'em all the crap what's left over.... dried up rib eye. Gluey mac and cheese. Think it got some 'rubber' bacon in it too. Shrimp so old it taste like pee- pee. Nobody ask no questions though. They all busy trading 'links' and makin' like they love each other. Hollywood contingent snatchin' all the goody bags. Few a them get little vials a vampire blood, but just a few. You can tell who they are. Just look real close. Got mugs like Jack Nicholson when he the 'Joker,' only not made up so nice.

They still cleanin' up from the rodeo. Couple real ugly people still left, 'cause nobody want a bite 'em. Gonna donate 'em to a home for blind vampires. What they know?

Ain't had no vampire-suicide-sublimation yet. Wait'll they get drunk. It'll happen. 

Tomas, Sarah and most a the other real 'noble' ones in the scriptorium, playin' Yahtzee. They can hear some a the noise, but they pretend like they don't. He did call (Tomas, I mean) some made to order shoe guy in London. Wanna get some more trim, black, leather bootkins. You know how he is for shoes....

Edith and wilkravitz lookin' for souvenirs. She found this old, brown skull under a chair in some sitting room. Don't know who it belong to. Skull won't say. Other one, wilkravitz, gettin' phone numbers from people what say they big time promoters and agents. Got a diamond ring he saw layin' on the rug in the hallway. Baylah says it a cubic zirconium. But Tomas says he'll have one of his 'familiars' evaluate it when they get back home.

Look, #SNL over now, so why you not round up your friends and get 'em to read this? 

Mister Never-You-Mind wanna go say goodbye to some ghosts...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
just in case you want to help a little, please tweet this ~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of his (this is the part where you gotta make up something nice).... Thank you.

LAST RITES... THE VAMPIRE REVELS.. 2/16/13

Tomas and Sarah walked over the hills, under a chalk white moon and twinkling stars. Words were few. They just weren't necessary. She held his hand and she knew. She felt his soul and tasted each emotion. He liked his life. He valued his purpose. Tomas missed Philadelphia and wanted to go back. Yes, they might pass through The City. They might go to London. But only for a night or two. 

He missed the narrow cobbled lanes of Society Hill, Queens Village, Old City and all that. He missed the quiet churchyards filled with cool, gray stones.. True, London had such places... very similar places. And it was once his home. Perhaps that's why Philadelphia felt so right? It was built to be the New World London, after all. The huge clock tower atop City Hall. The small antique shops on Pine Street. The tea room in The Wanamaker Building. Even the street accents in some districts. Ever hear how they say bee-yoo-tee-ful? A true Cockney could do no better.

They passed through ghosts and other things. Most pretended not to notice, though one or two said hello.... a child, a little girl exposed to the cold in Druid times, asked their names.... an old man minus half a skull told jokes. He wanted to know by what means they kept their flesh. Sarah told him they were life-eaters...they were vampires. But he was unfamiliar with the breed and so he wandered on.

Baylah helped Annie dress for 'Last Dance.' She brushed her hair and sprayed in an aerosol 'thickener.' It apparently works on vampire hair too. She should write them. Maybe they'll put that on the label? And the headless, female harpist plucked away in the shadows. I believe it was 'Old Man River.' The sad creature had quite a large repertoire.  Annie talked to her from time to time. She was curious. She wanted to know what the strange thing was. But the fleshly automaton never responded in any way. She could have gestured, or maybe even answered with music. But she did not. Baylah thought she was primarily a magical construct, layered over some convenient, brainless corpse.... like a puppet, preserved and dead... 

After 'Old Man River,' she went into 'Eleanor Rigby.' That sounded nice. 

'Last Dance' was special. They had a promenade. They danced a Stompanada. Every once in a while some vampire came forth to 'testify,' asking for release. And that was provided, usually via a sublimation. The petitioning party dressed accordingly, sometimes in their finest, occasionally in plainer clothes. Few came naked. It just seemed too vulnerable.  When it was time they stood in the circle, an inlaid, old bronze ring, created many years ago, waiting for their 'savior' to appear. After a few heartbeats, for prayer and the like (funny, but even the 'noxious' prayed) the savior came forth, walking straight toward the waiting soul in the center. Never slowing. Never hesitating. Never turning, til they passed right through them.... That was it. Very quick. Very simple. 

The body in movement is not harmed. But the body at rest is destroyed. Every particle of the sublimating entity cuts through the stationary soul like a tiny, razor sharp, obsidian knife.... For a moment, the 'victim' stands there. The form remains intact. But then blood runs forth from an infinity of cuts, til the stationary body disappears, cascading down onto the old, stone surface in a fast, red torrent. Even the bones disappear. .... Now so there not be any piece of skull, or hand, or foot, or torso 'living' passed 'the act,' larger people usually sublimate through smaller individuals. That usually works. Dogs come out to lick up all the blood. There's no cleansing blue flame. That does not happen in instances like this. And, no, the dogs don't become vampire dogs. At least I don't think so.

Maybe we'll see one tonight? Then we'll know. Big dogs... they use big dogs, like Irish Wolfhounds. 

But watch their eyes, if such a thing takes place. You'll never see dogs with eyes like that again.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
please help. please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD... tweet this ~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of his (then ad something 'nice') ......Thank you very much... If you're competing and want votes, let me know via Twitter. Tell us your category. I'll be happy to oblige...

Some Vampires are Such Show Offs ..THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2/15/13

The next night was BLOOD DONATION night. That's when the 'noble' vampires fill little glass vials with tiny droplets of their blood for medicinal use and all that. We donate crates of it to Doctors Without Borders and a whole lot a groups. One year they tried using plastic vials, but it did something to the blood and people started getting diarrhea and itchin' and all, so the various governments made us stop. 

Everybody lines up in the great hall. Registered nurses do it...mortal registered nurses. They make these little nicks in our necks and it goes BOOP!... just like a little fountain, right into one a them kidney-shaped, stainless steel bowls. Tomas gave. Sarah gave. Baylah gave. Even little Annie gave. If I had to guess. I'd say about half, maybe a little more than half gave. 

The 'noxious' vampires just stood around smirking and giving us 'the finger.' They smoke cigarettes in long shiny, ebony holders. They grope each other and some of the mortals too. Sarah doesn't like them. Annie thinks they're cool.  They torture the cattle-people. Sometimes the screams travel all the way up from the dungeons. They don't even bother drugging them after the first few days. Like Planet of The Apes, where the apes hunt the humans and take pictures with them, but worse. 

And the 'free' mortals here as associates or guests don't say anything. Baylah says - What are they gonna say? What can they do?... Still, some of those bastards carry it too far. And the mortals do remember. Every once in a while, after THE REVELS, some 'noxious' colony gets it. They got these little robots. You'd never see them. Like drones. Like land drones, although some of them can fly too. Go in anywhere. Never stop. Never get tired. Just do their job. And they find them. They always find them. Come on, how are life-eaters supposed to win? We can't go out in the daytime, for Christ's sake! Yes we have (or are supposed to have) remarkable talents and abilities... a lot of them. They know we can sublimate through them and shred them to bits. Where do you think the micro-fiber lead suits came from? Humans learn. Mortals learn. We might get a few now and then, but they're not dumb. Come on. 

Do you want to know why mortals tolerate the 'noxious?' Because they like to kill. Governments use them. Hidden operatives use them. Globe-spanning business interests use them. And no bodies. That's the best part. Blue flame. Minor, greasy residue, clean it up... All gone. Nobody comes forward. Nobody takes credit. It's perfect. 

I hate the 'noxious.' I hate their sly, judgmental faces. Neanderthal vampires hate them too. It's like an instinctive thing with them.... the noble savage and all that. No Neanderthals here at this convocation. Got them up in Lapland, though and somewhere passed the Urals. ... OH! And you want to see something? You should see what they have in Brazil...Venezuela too.... real 'live' razor-fanged chupicabras. All human. All human, originally anyway. No reptiles. nothing like that. You know what Gollum is like in Lord of The Rings? Well, that's what they're like. That's what they are. Don't know where they came from...but they got 'em now.

You see, it's not the vampires who are special. It's the magic inside them that is. Some of it's outside them too. I don't know where it starts. I don't know where it stops. It's just 'The Magic.'  But it's real and it's out there and it's powerful.

Doctor Franklin knows about it. His Great Armonica taps into it. Edith says it oozes up out of the mud in The Pine Barrens.. She says she got it in her through the soles of her feet.

Tomas doesn't know why he came here. Says he knew it would be like this. His old friends from London never showed up. Only two hundred miles away and they never came. Maybe he just wanted the others to see. Not Baylah. She's old enough. She knows too. But Sarah didn't. And Annie didn't. And now they do...

Beauty is what beauty does.... And magic too.... And especially the vampires who bear it.

Maybe they'll stop over in London for a few nights on the way back? Tomas would like to see a few people. He's sentimental that way...

But then you already knew that. 

Know what he did? He bought a few of the cattle-people.. Paid for their release. Oh, the 'noxious' vampires were up in arms. Mumbling... yelling curses, calling him a 'Jew bastard' and all. Not all of them. Just a few. But still, he heard it. Though he doesn't care. They saw what he did to Sir Richard. Plus, a few of the other 'nobles' stood by him. He liked that...That made him feel real good.

Gave each of the pathetic, ransomed people ten thousand dollars, some clothes... other stuff too. His Philadelphia financial 'familiars' have contacts. They know people here. It wasn't hard..

'King' Rafe is starting to get all slow and dreamy-eyed. Think he wants the quiet, dark, 'haunted' castle again. Wants to drift around up through the rafters, float all over the place. 'The Man on The Moors'...that's what they call him around here. And he likes it.

Not that something 'weird' still can't happen. These 'REVELS' will probably drag on another night or two...another Stompanada... a few more meetings.... but that's it...

The party's over.....

So go ahead. Find somebody. Become a vampire if you want..... We get comments from 'newborns.' We know.

But remember, we only pretend this is fiction... And I've already told you more than I should. And I'm not gonna tell you who I am.

So that's it. Go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD... tweet this ~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of his (say something nice)...... That's all. I won't bother you anymore...

The Night Before Valentine's Night... THE VAMPIRE REVELS .. 2/14/13

Some of the vampires joined certain politicos for a discussion on how to forestall terrorist attacks, but most of the night-folk weren't too happy. I mean you can imagine what they did to vampires in Afghanistan.  Used an old Imperial Chinese trick. The emperors, or their minions, used to do it. Force the victim to climb in and scrunch down in a 'human sized' porcelain spice jar, or ginger jar, or whatever it was they used. Looked like a dinosaur baby inside a petrified egg. Then they slowly poured in some kind of oil. Don't think it was olive. Don't know if the Chinese used olive. Filled it right up to the top. Right over the doomed bastard's head. Stuck a little, tiny, straw, snorkel thing in his mouth so he could breath...for a while anyway.

Sealed the lid on. But made sure the straw was fished through this little notch first. Then they just set him somewhere, like another big shiny, painted, china thing. You know them emperors had a lot a shit like that. Used a smear some kind a putty crap on the bottom, so they wouldn't tip over. Poor bastard inside got all cramped up. Can't move. No room to move. Just like a chick what ain't cracked out yet. Breathin' through that little straw. Every once in a while, when they got hungry, suck in a little oil. Only thing is, oil make 'em shit. Ain't got no pants on, so that part not a problem. But after like a week or so, it get mighty crappy in there and crap soak up a lot a oil. 

Fella inside hope they let him die. Hope they pull that breathin' straw out..... But they don't. They never do, not till whole thing get all shit-ified. Eyes burn. Skin itch. It even burn up the pee hole. It burn real bad. And you hear them Chinese emperors counting rubies, eatin' semi-livin' baby octopus, tellin' guys whose heads to chop off (them was the lucky ones). Feel vibrations shimmy up through the floor when somebody walk. Concubines giggle. Dance around... giggle some more.  Do what they does....

Course vampire... good vampire... gonna sublimate right through that. Little bit a porcelain ain't no big thing. But them what lived 'long The Great Silk Road knowed that. So they made 'em out a lead. Ain't no vampire can get through lead. Some old ones still in there buried in a tomb, deep down low in the dark.  What kind a genie you think that gone make?

One vampire say - Why we always gotta do the shitty stuff?.... He don't talk that way, but Mister Never-You-Mind do...and that who you got tonight....Political bastids don't say nothin', just look at him, but that look sayin' - Don't we hide you? Don't we help you? Don't we lie for you and help you survive?...... No vampire like a hear that.... Vampire like a think he the boss.... And lots a time they are...but not always.

Some got family. Some got human family, mortal family. Them what runs things know that. So they scoop 'em all up and start fryin' 'em in a pan. You know some dictators got real big, people fryin' pans. Guy in New Orleans once cooked up a big mess a paella in one. He not know it all seasoned from people fryin', but it was. 

Vampire, 'specially them sentimental vampirina types, do mos' anything a save they kin. Don't feel so lost, long as the human line go on. That how they get 'em.... the dictators, I mean. Ian Fleming want a put a vampire in one a his James Bond stories, but they not let him. That 'gainst the rules. That 'posed a be a secret.

You know, if you over at The Bilderberg Conference, it a lot like here. 'Cept you gonna see lot a people and jus' a little vampire. We got lot a vampire and only some people. That way it all equal. 

One mortal son-a-bitch say - Why they not get a vampire to fix up the Pope? Give him a little shot...few drops a 'magic' blood.... Did it to Dick Cheney... Worked with him. Should a did it months ago, 'fore he got so bad....... Guess he don't know they got a 'court' vampire. 'Papa' know, 'cause he used to be one...... And it not a easy job.

That a sore point in 'el mundo vampirido.' Wanna free all them 'court' vampires. Say it jus' slavery. Say it a disgustin' disgrace... But then one a them hoomin beans say - What you call them naked 'snausages' you got shittin' theyself in them dungeons?

Everybody get all quiet then. Mortal folk and night-folk do work together.... but they still got they issues.

Tomas feel better now. He out flyin' 'round wit' three a them witches....

Sarah gettin' her hair done... She had an appointment....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for your time. please tweet this on twitter, so I can at least THINK I might win~~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of his pixilated stories........ 

ALLIANCES... THE VAMPIRE REVELS ... 2/13/13

The next few nights passed uneventfully...as uneventfully as they can at 'The Revels.' Annie went on a field trip up to Hadrian's Wall to commune with the spirits of Roman legionaries minced into tiny pieces by belligerent Picts and Scots during the later days of the Occupation... Just perfect for a carne-humano version of Salsa Bolognese , or something like that.... Larry accompanied her. But while the other night-folk held a dark-time pow-wow with a whole mess of Marcos, Luccas and Claudios <the Romanesque 'us' ending existing primarily in the written version>, she and the little vampirino played bocce ball with the ghost of a fat cook named Tinto. He let them taste a cask of old grappa, sealed shut since Marcus-Aurelias.  Do I still have to tell you they can tolerate alcohol? So they were quite drunk by the time they left. 

A Persian vampire graciously provided the group with some of the best carpets in his stable. So they flew back to the castle lying prone upon the fine, wool surface of centuries old, hand knotted Bahkras & Tabriz'. A symphony of jewel-like stars watched from afar, as they sliced through the British night.

Most imagine such transepts to be precarious and frightful. Yet that is not the case. The plush, warm surface feels firm and secure. And small, but strong invisible hands grab hold to keep you safe. Larry sang songs learned from nights spent with Rip Van Winkle and the dwarfs, so many years ago. They shared the rug with a mortal financier from Caracas and a vampire chanteuse from Helsinki. 

The six carpets flew in formation and arrived 'home' in approximately twenty minutes. I believe they ducked into an easily accessible alternate universe to save time. The Persian knew many things.

Sarah spent these nights nursing Tomas. True, due to his vampiric nativity at the hands of 'Papa,' he did heal quickly. But she enjoyed the opportunity for closeness and intimacy. And they did venture down each evening for an hour or two spent sipping toddies in the library. Must seem sociable after all. Tomas answered a few questions from his fans. A bit of the 'schoolyard' effect. They just wanted to know how he did it. Night-folk can be such hangers on. 

I believe Sir Richard's belongings were forwarded to his 'people' back in wherever it is they live. A few of the big business types know. He did favors for them. Goldie Hawn and some of the Hollywood attendees  sang show songs in the music room. Vampires love Phantom of The Opera. They didn't sing that, but nobody cared. 

Some of the cattle-people in the dungeons got loose, running through the place like a bunch of terrified, naked maniacs. Nobody was hungry anymore (the vampires anyway), so 'King' Rafe distributed dart guns and they all went hunting.  Best to aim for the ass. Big muscle there. Sedative works in fast. Most of the vampires understood. They got it right away. Some cruel types didn't care where the barb landed, so there was a lot of high pitched yelping too. I don't think any mortal guests shot at the cattle-people, though.

Baylah sat in with a group working to promote democracy and responsible government in Sub Saharan Africa. A different group tackled North Africa's problems. They planned a series of discrete killings, carried out by vampires embedded in the households of various potentates and warlords. She was from Timbuctu, you know (eighteenth century royal house) and thus fluent in Tuareg, Berber and other useful languages. Plus, the fact that she looked like Beyonce Knowles didn't hurt either.  The potentates in question couldn't help but notice....Like a 'Bond' girl she'd be.

So that's how things went around here. This ain't no disembodied spirit, just me, wilkravitz (or @wilkravitz for the TWITTER-MENSCHEN among us). 

Edith gave a class in rudimentary telepathy for the spouses of high-level, mortal attendees. A Romanian woman had some talent. Must a been part Rom or something. But most of the others just whispered, traded lipsticks (mostly the women) or passed notes. She missed The Pines. She missed the way it smelled in late winter/early spring, when the mud came alive and the creepy-crawlies started to wake up.

Some of the people, both vampire and plain, old, not-vampire, drove into London for the stores and maybe to see a show, or something like that. Think they had a quiet, little get together with a certain person from St. James, but don't hold me to it.

I'm getting good at telekinesis though. So far only up to the ping-pong ball stage. But, hey, I'm satisfied...

Adieu from 'THE REVELS,' for now...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you for your time. if you're willing, please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD. simply tweet (on Twitter) this ~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because of his entertaining narratives..... and visit on TWITTER too.

THE MEAT OF THE BATTLE ...THE VAMPIRE REVELS 2.12/13

Vampire flesh is very resilient.  A human arm would come off, just like a piece of cooked chicken. But these creatures are different. Do they know why? They're vampires. There is no 'why.' Tests have been run. Alchemists gazed at blood. Some say that's the reason the microscope was developed, so a Dutch 'wise man' might study the tiny imps predicted to swim there. Yet he saw no imps, or anything else amiss for that matter. The blood of the night breed runs true, just like yours and just like mine... at least like mine did when I was alive. For I am a 'ghostie,' one of the disembodied spirits telling this tale. My name is Keith. That's all I'll say. Breathing relatives live nearby and they don't like my job. You see, to them, the proper thing for a dead sibling to do, is molder in the grave... just like that nineteenth century American, John Brown.  Would that they knew he was giving hula lessons to sleeping tourists at Waikiki. After all, everybody likes to try new things. 

And the crowd roared as Tomas took off an ear. Sir Ralph thrust toward his opponent's pee-pee, or what he formerly used (partly) for that purpose during mortal days. But Tomas was quick, snapping back through the ether, as if pulled by rubber bands. Two old vampirinos standing very near the action bore the brunt. And if none were behind them, they'd have gone over the battlements and down on the rocks below. 

Sarah tried to send him strength. Baylah did too. Edith mumbled Piney Prayers and Annie just watched, with the wide-eyed wonder of a child. 

Tomas recovered, delivering a sharp head-butt to Sir Richard's belly and black bile erupted from the baronet's lips bathing him and everyone else around him. Then he grabbed Tomas' shoulders and bit into his neck, but the maneuver was reckless and unmeasured. So he pulled away with a bit of flesh, but the arteries remained intact. You know, sudden blood loss can cripple a vampire. In that state a 'kill' would be easy. Gouge the eyes. Amputate the nether regions. Vampire teeth are well suited to that. But the strong 'young' vampirino cantered back, feigning pain he did not feel. Sir Richard moved in, all set to twist the neck and send the head flying. But Tomas sprang forward and grasped his arm, just above the wrist. Then he snapped back the hand, til knuckles met forearm. And the plump 'aristocrat' screamed, as his useless appendage flapped around like an errant glove.

Some thought it funny and tittered with laughter. Vampires can be a childish bunch. Others loudly voiced approval. Though the wily scoundrel soon found himself, lashing out with his good hand, tipped with leonine claws. And he ripped open the flesh o're Tomas' abdomen, sending blood gushing out, down upon his legs. 

Sarah gasped. Even Annie pressed back against her. And her little friend, Larry, was nowhere to be seen. But a plane approached, innocently tracing a path through the cold, dark sky. It was small, probably a four seater, nothing more. Bound for a private runway at the country house of some peer or oligarch living hereabouts.  Yet modern day vampires are wary. Night vision cameras... telescopic lenses and all that, don't you know. So they froze. Even 'King' Rafe stopped hovering about like some grotesque balloon in the Macy's Parade and came in for a landing. 

Now the witches patrolling out on the grounds are well versed in obfuscation, but who knows if they obfuscated the heights as well?  You know how they are when they get a hold of that mead. So everybody waited, still as corpses, until the plane went passed. A couple of mortal attendees from the European Union farted. Somebody laughed. Vampires relish a good fart, they do. Mortal physicality intrigues them, just like little girlies playing with dolls that wet. But it broke the tension and the battle resumed. 

The crowd yelled---- Rip his balls off!!! Bite off half his ass!!!.... Not always clarifying which combatant they were referring to. Tomas managed to land a few closed fist blows, cracking Sir Richard's right clavicle. A ragged shard of ivory bone sliced right through his skin and the flabby baronet groaned, as he fell upon the stone paved rooftop.

Now the usual thing in outcomes like this, is to rip out the backbone and whip it around in a life-eater victory dance. Feral vampires have done the like for thousands of years. Papa's quite familiar with that scene. And some in the crowd expected it.

But Tomas, also known as Jonathon, was never a pagan, and he wasn't the only one. So he brought his foot down hard, breaking the neck. Then he grabbed the head with both hands (by this time, his feline attributes were beginning to recede) and twisted it 'round, till it came off.  For approximately five heartbeats he stared into the still conscious and quite startled face of his victim. Then he set it down near the twitching body just as the first tiny fingers of flame began to tickle their way across the flesh. And seconds later, the post-mortal remains of Sylvia's destroyer ignited with a clean blue flame, til only the grease, plus a few charred bacon-like scraps were left. 

Someone moved to call the tongueless functionaries, so that they might clean it up. But 'King' Rafe said - No, leave it for the birds. And as the witnesses filed back inside and descended from that place, the ravens came back, in the company of friends, and stripped off all corruption.

They still met for dancing later that night. Some attended discussions with learned folk from both sides of the sundown. Others drank cordials in the library. A few tasted mortal food and then threw up. 

But Tomas and Sarah retired to their quarters, where she carefully bathed him in the huge, old tub. Then she tended his wounds with soft blood kisses, before joining him in the vast and ancient bed where they slept. 

In the eyes of THE REVELERS he'd done a great thing. Not so much for avenging Sylvia, but for providing great sport. Even some of the humans agreed. 

Though Tomas and the little group from Philadelphia thought differently......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for your time. Please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD. Just tweet this on TWITTER ~~ I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD in #BLOGGER because his stories and narratives are positively mesmerizing... And as always, your COMMENTS are very welcome...