Please scroll down and read the two posts under this. We found them in the vault, exquisite morsels from the first nights of Tomas' nocturnal life. Remember to click on the links at the top of each entry for more.... or wander through hundreds at OUR VAMPIRIC COLLECTION ..... Your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome...
Friday, March 15, 2013
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: Things like this were common practice among the vampirisi in the old days ~~~ This is not fiction. I am not supposed to say it, but I have ...Two 'brides' for the newly minted vampirino. Both preserve him in their own special way..... a 'meal' and a 'mother'...Please know that this is not the actual post. To see that, you must click on the golden link up top...If you want to see more episodes in the lives of our life-eaters, click on THE MAGIC PORTAL ... and as always, your COMMENTS and LINKS are extremely welcome.
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE MARTYRDOM... plucked from the ashes
Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: THE MARTYRDOM... plucked from the ashes: Do you promise to accept this as fiction? During a lull in the hymn singing (their cantor was very good, actually) we heard the pounding ro...How Jonathon ben Macabi (also known as Tomas de Macabea) faced death as a martyr and rose as a vampirino... A very early post. I think maybe eight people saw it back then. But this is how it happened and we only pretend that it's fiction... but PLEASE REALIZE this IS NOT the POST. You MUST click on what's up top to SEE it..... More at WHOLE LOT A ROMANTIC EXOTIC VAMPIRE STUFF ..... your COMMENTS, accompanied by YOUR links are extremely welcome.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK gettin' all juiced up..... 3/14/13
Annie came in and slammed the door. She threw a little paper bag of Scrunchies and other hair ornaments on the hall table. Then she stomped into the little, book-lined den and clicked on the television. Edith (who'd been quietly crocheting in a corner) looked up and said - What the hell happened to you?..... Nuthin' - said the stringy haired, little vampirina, as she punched in the numbers for the History Channel. Something about the Union-Pacific Railroad came on. She didn't like that and yelled - F*CK! F*UK! F*CK! F*CK! F*CK!..... Edith went - Will you shut the front door, you foul-mouthed little thing you?!.... Annie didn't answer, but just burrowed deeper into the throw pillows, scowling at the screen..... Where the hell's Hitler!? Ain't this the ALL-HITLER station? - she yelled. Annie likes to watch killing, perversion and satanic mayhem and this choo-choo train crap wasn't doin' it for her.
Edith went over to the desk, got a little green apple candle out of a drawer, put it in like a big shot glass (from the same drawer), lit it and gave it to her...... Here - she said, calm your little psycho self down, you weird, little bastid. Where'd you go tonight. Before the CVS for all the hair crap, I mean....
But Annie didn't answer... And Edith already knew. She just wanted her to talk about it. Witchy, Piney-Wimmen know everything. They just don't wanna look stuck up is all..... Equinox comin'. Big doings. Red Paint People in the Pines (other more or less human varieties too) got this big 'Matilda' thing comin', 'bout some girl what got herself all killed up 'fore she supposed to. She like meant to be a Talk-To-God women. That their medicine woman. That their shaman...... Horsey Skeezix, the little Jersey Debbil kid (that what you call a baby Jersey Devil) say he see her smoky ghost wafting 'round like a hula dancer. He real surprised. He say -Who you!?..... She say - Don't look at me, you little son-of-a-bitch..... So he spit his saltwater taffy right through her and she go away, flyin' back into them pine trees.
Tomas all juiced up too. He get that way 'round Passover Time. Sit in his talk-to-God room lookin' at candles. Not aroma candles. These religious candles. You can tell, 'cause they ain't got no fancy colors in 'em Look like what old time folks used a burn on top a skulls....... And Johannon, he the disembodied spirit of the guy what saved Tomas from the fire, when them Crusader goomers try an' burn his still mortal self up in some French, Jew-church all them years ago (lemme take a breath)... wanna come back and tell it all. He wanna be the narrator.
But them what knows us understand how territorial Mister Never You Mind can be..... That me. That who doin' the story tellin' now.
Philadelphia after dark really startin' a perk-a-late. But 'least Johnny Jump Up ain't gonna trouble nobody. Not for little while anyway.
Little Bastid Annie see to that...
An' you best remember... We just pretend this is fiction...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
eternal thanks to all you Grand Poobah's who read this. check out and click STUFF YOU PROBABLY MISSED ... to fill you up with all of it. we desperately crave your COMMENTS & LINKS too. .... now I gotta stop so we can see what Justin Timberlake gonna sing... if he do sing....
Edith went over to the desk, got a little green apple candle out of a drawer, put it in like a big shot glass (from the same drawer), lit it and gave it to her...... Here - she said, calm your little psycho self down, you weird, little bastid. Where'd you go tonight. Before the CVS for all the hair crap, I mean....
But Annie didn't answer... And Edith already knew. She just wanted her to talk about it. Witchy, Piney-Wimmen know everything. They just don't wanna look stuck up is all..... Equinox comin'. Big doings. Red Paint People in the Pines (other more or less human varieties too) got this big 'Matilda' thing comin', 'bout some girl what got herself all killed up 'fore she supposed to. She like meant to be a Talk-To-God women. That their medicine woman. That their shaman...... Horsey Skeezix, the little Jersey Debbil kid (that what you call a baby Jersey Devil) say he see her smoky ghost wafting 'round like a hula dancer. He real surprised. He say -Who you!?..... She say - Don't look at me, you little son-of-a-bitch..... So he spit his saltwater taffy right through her and she go away, flyin' back into them pine trees.
Tomas all juiced up too. He get that way 'round Passover Time. Sit in his talk-to-God room lookin' at candles. Not aroma candles. These religious candles. You can tell, 'cause they ain't got no fancy colors in 'em Look like what old time folks used a burn on top a skulls....... And Johannon, he the disembodied spirit of the guy what saved Tomas from the fire, when them Crusader goomers try an' burn his still mortal self up in some French, Jew-church all them years ago (lemme take a breath)... wanna come back and tell it all. He wanna be the narrator.
But them what knows us understand how territorial Mister Never You Mind can be..... That me. That who doin' the story tellin' now.
Philadelphia after dark really startin' a perk-a-late. But 'least Johnny Jump Up ain't gonna trouble nobody. Not for little while anyway.
Little Bastid Annie see to that...
An' you best remember... We just pretend this is fiction...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
eternal thanks to all you Grand Poobah's who read this. check out and click STUFF YOU PROBABLY MISSED ... to fill you up with all of it. we desperately crave your COMMENTS & LINKS too. .... now I gotta stop so we can see what Justin Timberlake gonna sing... if he do sing....
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Annie and The Ghoul... down in the darkness.. 3/13/13
The monster touched her cheek. Annie stood there, motionless and 'dead.' She heard him whisper something in an unknown language. And the darkness was palpable and absolute, as if the air itself was made from dense, black velvet. Then she hissed and lashed out raking his hand with her needle sharp incisors. The ghoul recoiled. And in that instant she sublimated through the air, coming to rest far, far down the track, but she could hear him lapping up the blood.
Though the ghoul knew where she was and in a series of carefully constrained leaps (so as not to crack his head upon the ceiling) streaked down to join her, desperate to have his meal. Vampire flesh has a certain, gamy tang, you know. And even young ones, such as she, possess exotic flavor.
Annie heard the labored breathing. She heard the gravely dirt crunch beneath his shoes. But she knew these tunnels too. They were her labyrinth, her playground, her escape. A skinny, little, white girl hand flashed down, locking around an old, dry femur with a jagged, dangerous end. Come on. She knows every bone pile in the place... and most of the former owners, as well.
The cadaverous flesh eater crashed down before her. She felt his tomb-like stink on her cold, soft skin, as he exhaled and said - 'dirty, dirty, little girl, my dirty little girl.'... But the ghoul hesitated for a moment and chuckled, contemplating pleasures to come. And in that singular instant she lunged up with her ancient spear, slicing through the fabric of his pants and plunging into the soft meat of his groin.
Then she heard a squishing sound and that stopped him, but two heartbeats later she did a quick, little staccato dance on his greasy head for good measure, before vaulting off to safety down the tracks.
But ghouls heal too, you know... and there'll be hell to pay...
The night world has such contrasts. Tomas at his prayers.... Baylah singing 'standards' from the great American songbook in her jewel-like little lounge far down the way. Sarah fills crystalline vials with droplets of her restorative blood for darktime distribution to those worthy of salvation. And Leo kills, just like a cat, for that makes him so glad.
When you go out on the streets tonight, you're in for a big surprise...
Ah... Philadelphia After Dark, awash in the glow of a chill, March moon.
An old town full of tales... and teeth and claws, as well...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
we bow to you, our noble readers. should you require further drugs, click open this fine CABINET ...your COMMENTS and LINKS are always welcome...
Though the ghoul knew where she was and in a series of carefully constrained leaps (so as not to crack his head upon the ceiling) streaked down to join her, desperate to have his meal. Vampire flesh has a certain, gamy tang, you know. And even young ones, such as she, possess exotic flavor.
Annie heard the labored breathing. She heard the gravely dirt crunch beneath his shoes. But she knew these tunnels too. They were her labyrinth, her playground, her escape. A skinny, little, white girl hand flashed down, locking around an old, dry femur with a jagged, dangerous end. Come on. She knows every bone pile in the place... and most of the former owners, as well.
The cadaverous flesh eater crashed down before her. She felt his tomb-like stink on her cold, soft skin, as he exhaled and said - 'dirty, dirty, little girl, my dirty little girl.'... But the ghoul hesitated for a moment and chuckled, contemplating pleasures to come. And in that singular instant she lunged up with her ancient spear, slicing through the fabric of his pants and plunging into the soft meat of his groin.
Then she heard a squishing sound and that stopped him, but two heartbeats later she did a quick, little staccato dance on his greasy head for good measure, before vaulting off to safety down the tracks.
But ghouls heal too, you know... and there'll be hell to pay...
The night world has such contrasts. Tomas at his prayers.... Baylah singing 'standards' from the great American songbook in her jewel-like little lounge far down the way. Sarah fills crystalline vials with droplets of her restorative blood for darktime distribution to those worthy of salvation. And Leo kills, just like a cat, for that makes him so glad.
When you go out on the streets tonight, you're in for a big surprise...
Ah... Philadelphia After Dark, awash in the glow of a chill, March moon.
An old town full of tales... and teeth and claws, as well...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
we bow to you, our noble readers. should you require further drugs, click open this fine CABINET ...your COMMENTS and LINKS are always welcome...
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
THE MONTH OF MIRACLES... Tomas and his faith. 3/12/13
Attend, oh best beloveds. The 'burden bearer' (life eater) known to God as Jonathon ben Macabi and to most of the children of Adam as Tomas de Macabea , feels The Faith at this season for the Month of Miracles is upon us..... a time of redemption and new birth...a season of the year called Nissan, which means 'miracle' and nothing else.
He sits in his chamber, lost in prayer and contemplation. but those of you who know him recognize the pattern. For he has always been like that. Most close to him believe he will one day expand his place in the world and trade this burden for something else.
Is Jonathon called Tomas unique? Hardly. Those known as 'vampires' have always done such things, occupying that place where the spirit meets the mundane. People saw them as help mates and guides, sent from beyond to bring order to the community of men and usher disruptive, unschooled souls from this world to the next.
'Life-eater'..... a noble thing it was. And people remembered their many sacrifices. They sang psalms and healed the sick, advised kings and tutored holy men.
Such was the world til Inquisitional times, when books were re-written, or at least reinterpreted and vampires used for fuel. Witness the trials of the elferina known as Marianne. Search them in these endless records. Do as the moderns do and 'Google' Marianne In Britches by Billy Kravitz. See what can be seen. Read what is preserved.
The month of miracles..... Go and do good things... Bake the Bread of Haste and eat it, for life is short.... at least when viewed through mortal eyes...
You are REDEEMED for a reason...
Know that and go forth.....
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Wow! We really tapped into a good disembodied spirit tonight, didn't we?
Bienvenido al Mundo Vampirismo... And if you TRULY want to breathe in EL MUNDO VAMPIRISMO, click on this ~> BEHOLD!!! ...... Muchas gracias. Your COMMENTS and LINKS are always very welcome...
He sits in his chamber, lost in prayer and contemplation. but those of you who know him recognize the pattern. For he has always been like that. Most close to him believe he will one day expand his place in the world and trade this burden for something else.
Is Jonathon called Tomas unique? Hardly. Those known as 'vampires' have always done such things, occupying that place where the spirit meets the mundane. People saw them as help mates and guides, sent from beyond to bring order to the community of men and usher disruptive, unschooled souls from this world to the next.
'Life-eater'..... a noble thing it was. And people remembered their many sacrifices. They sang psalms and healed the sick, advised kings and tutored holy men.
Such was the world til Inquisitional times, when books were re-written, or at least reinterpreted and vampires used for fuel. Witness the trials of the elferina known as Marianne. Search them in these endless records. Do as the moderns do and 'Google' Marianne In Britches by Billy Kravitz. See what can be seen. Read what is preserved.
The month of miracles..... Go and do good things... Bake the Bread of Haste and eat it, for life is short.... at least when viewed through mortal eyes...
You are REDEEMED for a reason...
Know that and go forth.....
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Wow! We really tapped into a good disembodied spirit tonight, didn't we?
Bienvenido al Mundo Vampirismo... And if you TRULY want to breathe in EL MUNDO VAMPIRISMO, click on this ~> BEHOLD!!! ...... Muchas gracias. Your COMMENTS and LINKS are always very welcome...
Monday, March 11, 2013
DOWN BENEATH THE TEEMING STREETS .... 3/11/13
You've heard us talk about the 'tunnels,' a realm far beneath the deepest subway lines. The thing is, they're really there... and they have been for one hundred years. No one knew how big this 'car' thing would be. Maybe rich gentlemen would have them. They always buy such indulgences. But what business did the rougher classes have with such things? They can't even speak correctly. How are they to be expected to operate such intricate machinery? Look how they treat their horse-flesh...(Do they still keep horse-flesh?)
Philadelphia has many such places, originally intended for trains, yet now used for other things, like hiding dead bodies, or housing shambling tribes of poor, homeless demented. Imagine being born into the darkness, as some of them are. Scurrying through passageways meant for trains. They live on mushrooms, oozing up through wet dirt and layers of pigeon droppings. Some have become quite adept at rat catching. I love to hear them squeal.
Now they come in two castes, the tunnel dwellers, the mole people, I mean. And the demarcation is very simple. There are the 'cleans' and the 'dirties.'
The 'cleans' congregate near old, never used restrooms, collecting water from leaky, rusty pipes. Their mushrooms come from carefully tended gardens. And the leaky pipes furnish enough rusty fluid for washing and laundry, giving both skin and fabric a certain orangy glow. An elite, comprised of the more presentable specimens, squeeze up toward the surface, for begging, procuring certain supplies and light pick-pocketing.
Their nails aren't as long as the dirties, nor are their eyes as large, since they do see sunlight on occasion. Aura and Sylvia, Tomas' former sex friends were definitely of the cleaner sort, though they do enjoy a char-grilled, rat-on-a-stick from time to time.
I tell you this because the ghoul hunts down there. Not always, but tonight he does, picking off young ones of the filthier sort. He produces a certain, forlorn, lingering whistle. It pierces the darkness and the children hear it. Clever ones pull back. But the idiots among them move in closer, the better to explore. And he devours them. Do they scream? Not much, 'cause he cracks open the voice box right away.
Imagine being a child. You hear a ghostly trill and don't want to approach, but you do. Childish voices implore you to reconsider. But you know better, so you inch forward along the rusted remains of virgin subway tracks. Finally your friends depart, leaving you all alone in the velvety, inky darkness.
Then a finger, long, cold and thin, reaches out to touch your neck with a scabby, waxy claw. To late to run back to the never-used platform. You're in the 'narrows' now. And the ghostly tube swallows you, as sure as a giant's esophagus. But first you feel the teeth. And then you feel the pain, as the expert torturer quickly strips the flesh from off your trembling bones.
Annie was there. She 'saw' it. The little vampirina often takes risks.
But the ghoul felt her presence too...
And then she heard the laughter.... thick and low and foul...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. click HERE ... for more. your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
Philadelphia has many such places, originally intended for trains, yet now used for other things, like hiding dead bodies, or housing shambling tribes of poor, homeless demented. Imagine being born into the darkness, as some of them are. Scurrying through passageways meant for trains. They live on mushrooms, oozing up through wet dirt and layers of pigeon droppings. Some have become quite adept at rat catching. I love to hear them squeal.
Now they come in two castes, the tunnel dwellers, the mole people, I mean. And the demarcation is very simple. There are the 'cleans' and the 'dirties.'
The 'cleans' congregate near old, never used restrooms, collecting water from leaky, rusty pipes. Their mushrooms come from carefully tended gardens. And the leaky pipes furnish enough rusty fluid for washing and laundry, giving both skin and fabric a certain orangy glow. An elite, comprised of the more presentable specimens, squeeze up toward the surface, for begging, procuring certain supplies and light pick-pocketing.
Their nails aren't as long as the dirties, nor are their eyes as large, since they do see sunlight on occasion. Aura and Sylvia, Tomas' former sex friends were definitely of the cleaner sort, though they do enjoy a char-grilled, rat-on-a-stick from time to time.
I tell you this because the ghoul hunts down there. Not always, but tonight he does, picking off young ones of the filthier sort. He produces a certain, forlorn, lingering whistle. It pierces the darkness and the children hear it. Clever ones pull back. But the idiots among them move in closer, the better to explore. And he devours them. Do they scream? Not much, 'cause he cracks open the voice box right away.
Imagine being a child. You hear a ghostly trill and don't want to approach, but you do. Childish voices implore you to reconsider. But you know better, so you inch forward along the rusted remains of virgin subway tracks. Finally your friends depart, leaving you all alone in the velvety, inky darkness.
Then a finger, long, cold and thin, reaches out to touch your neck with a scabby, waxy claw. To late to run back to the never-used platform. You're in the 'narrows' now. And the ghostly tube swallows you, as sure as a giant's esophagus. But first you feel the teeth. And then you feel the pain, as the expert torturer quickly strips the flesh from off your trembling bones.
Annie was there. She 'saw' it. The little vampirina often takes risks.
But the ghoul felt her presence too...
And then she heard the laughter.... thick and low and foul...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. click HERE ... for more. your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome.
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