Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: The Book of Sarah: I make myself known to her now. She does not fully understand just what I am. But she is open to new things. I suppose that comes from being...A really good Tomas & Sarah episode, from the early nights when she was still mortal. Click the link above and come back with us to the tick-tock, little book shop known as PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK. Drink the potion. Feel the magic. Let the night sink in.... thank you. find more at browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ...your COMMENTS & LINKS are always welcome...

HOW THE GHOUL FACED HIS INJURIES ... 3/16/13

The stark, clammy, animated wraith known as Johnny Jump Up laid in the inky shadows.  No one came into these unused tunnels. Mole people knew better. Prey animals have a sixth sense about such things. But the ghoul needed help. His body was torn and slimy bits and pieces protruded from the scrotal gash. Would he heal? Of course. Yet even loathsome beings like he feel pain. 

Food... He needed food. Hot, warm flesh to make him whole. Human food... living food... Sometimes a rat catcher came through. They had to. Mole folk stuck together. Outsiders (except for the occasional vampire... they had a 'thing' with the vampires) stayed outsiders. Rat catchers weren't part of that.  They formed a separate caste. They wandered alone and they slept alone, wrapped in their greasy sheets and blankets. Know what they used for spears? Broom sticks. They used broom sticks. Everything was primitive. The end laboriously shaped via countless strikes with a chipped, hard stone. Neanderthals worked like that. Some said that's what they were (the rat catchers, I mean) , lost scraps of an ancient culture, hiding among a more or less contemporary, 'enlightened' breed, like us. It's not that they enjoyed hunting such threatening environs. They had no choice. Food was food. No one gave them any coins. No one bought them sacks filled with burgers from the dollar menu. They weren't your normal homeless. I don't think they even thought of themselves that way. Some people knew about the vampires. They had 'familiars.' They had contacts. Some knew about the Mole People too. The cops did. They had too. A small group even knew about the ghouls. But no one, save an occasional vampire, plus a few technical necromancers from Doctor Franklin's people ever saw them. Well, the ghoul did. I forgot to tell you that...

And he laid there, drinking in the darkness and biding his time. He heard the stubby scrounger scuffing along. He heard him jab the stick into a crevice. Sometimes there'd be a squeal... a small, little high pitched sound . Then the 'man' would cough and mutter, pick it up and stow it somewhere among the folds and tucks of his filthy attire. After a bit, he drew closer. The ghoul painfully rolled over, slow and deliberate, like a lizard.... still and quiet on the damp, sharp gravel. Then he silently inched along on his belly, like a slug toward a plump, green shoot. A dead looking (had you been able to see it) bony arm reached out from a tight, black sleeve. He flexed his claw-like fingers and waited.

Meat was coming. He couldn't eat the rats, even had they not avoided him. But this was different. This was food. This was his salvation, or at least the beginning of it.

So he grinned... And he watched... And he dreamed...

How he savored the ripping of the flesh.... the 'silver skin' encasing every muscle... the bitter, pungent tang of the viscera.... the mushroomy softness of the brain.

A few nights... A few meals... A few faces (cheek meat was so sweet) and he'd be whole....

You can't kill a ghoul..... You just can't.....

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TREASURES FROM THE VAULT... tastes of Tomas' early nights .. 3/15/13

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...

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.

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...

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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...

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