I never knew it was coming. They invited me to a party...more like a symposium, actually. I believe Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was there too. There was a house in London, a stylish townhouse, owned by a group given to paranormal investigations and magical experimentation. They brought a goldfish back from the dead once. But the West Indian stevedore stayed that way, so he wound up in the Thames. Perhaps he revived down there.
An older gentleman, though quite well preserved identified himself as 'the facilitator.' Some of the others seemed to know his name, but I did not. He said we would attempt a levitation. None of that parlor game nonsense... No rigid body 'tweet two chairs. They had a subject already picked out. Now I know she was obviously a vampire. Yet those in attendance hadn't a clue.
She wore a blue dress... quite dark... almost black. They said her name was Jeanette and she sipped some type of French cordial from a small green glass. I believe it smelled of chocolate.
They had us stand up and hold hands. We formed an oval. She lay on the rug. It was quiet, save for all the clocks. Inquiring folk in the nineteenth century had quite a thing for clocks. Maybe it was the intricate mechanisms? After all, computers were still very far away.
An attendant came in with a long metal chain. I think it was aluminum.... back then a precious and little known substance. He draped it 'round our shoulders. The facilitator said a prayer and we replied in Sanskrit.
Approximately twenty four heartbeats later, that Jeanette, laying on the floor between us started giggling, as if tickled by unseen fingers. And then she began to rise up. Our charade had nothing to do with it, but we believed that it did. Vampires can do many things and this simple demonstration was a specialty of hers. Needless to say, the night was a success.
We repaired to the library, an octagonal chamber with a leaded glass roof, for light refreshment and conversation, quite secure in our new found wizardry. Khartoum was the big thing back then...Lord Kitchener and all... the eighteen eighties... the Mahdi. And this group was very progressive, since the ladies joined in too.
When we left, I shared a cab with the vampire woman. The coachman was her 'familiar,' but I didn't know that. Two squares hence, she had him turn off the thoroughfare and proceed down Rotten Row, an equestrian lane much loved by the horsey set, though quite dark and empty now. I noticed, but said nothing, for I was young and desperate to appear less so.
She began to kiss me and nuzzle my neck. I pressed against the door. She moved closer. Her fingers were quite adept. Five minutes later I was naked.... and six minutes after that a vampire, although the shedding of the skin had yet to occur.
We exited the park and entered a little mews. One of the well appointed bijou was hers. She gave me a black, satin cape, neatly folded for that purpose. I put it on, lest any neighbors saw us arrive. When the coachman hopped down and opened the door, I followed her out and into the dwelling, more or less oblivious of my hasty transformation.
Once inside, she pulled it off and then I began to learn.....
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explore more at ~>Billy Kravitz' VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ..... please COMMENT here or join us on Twitter, click ~>@wilkravitz ... thank you..... tomorrow night the tale will continue.
James Gandolfini lost his physical body today. But the rest of him is here. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed... and boy does he have a lot of that.
If I did this right, the video I 'shared' should have a real nice tribute. I'm not too digitally savvy, but I do my best.
Take care of yourselves. Eat right. Move and jump around a little. If you do it to music, you can call it dancing.
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Now here's what our night-folk have to say. I believe we've been talking to RENATE (reh-nah-tay).....
And she says ~~~~ I pity your mortality. Even if you endure for one hundred years that is still but 36,500 days... Maybe a little more, allowing for the leap years. Such calenders you have. Such artifice. Such conceit. Every little tribe thinks they have it right. But who cares about the details? Renate goes by the moon. What more do we need?
Am I the first life-eater (vampire)? No. Those who've journeyed with us for a while know that. There is no first. There always was. Time is only an explanation for accumulated entropy. They who have 'passed' are not erased. All lives still exist.
Though I can tell you a bit about changes you (or your descendants) will see. The primitivism you relish will begin to evaporate. It already is. Each will know the other and nation states will wither. Or rather, Earth will be your nation... and perhaps some other orbs along the way.
Your children shall conquer the stars. Pity you were born so soon. Yet the atoms of your body will be there when it happens and they will cheer.
Renate knows. I've seen the birth of Sumer and polities far 'older.' Mud and stone and wood were always there. And even children build temples out of blocks. They always have. Legos are not new. There are records of those days. But you will not find them, for the seas have swallowed them up. And calamari swim through tombstones in the depths.
It's hot. Summer hastens decay. Tiny piercing mouth-parts spread disease. But that's their job. And vampires do the same. I take lives at will. No moral vows for me. I am far too practical for that and was already old and set in my ways when organized morality appeared.
But I lie. The being you call Jonathon thinks me a saint. And since we are but one or two links apart on the great eternal chain, I permit him to have his illusions.
Now I rise from the waves and walk toward the shore. Tiny phosphorescent lifeforms say hello. There are houses near the coast and salty, blood-filled people within. They sleep, as I creep close, scratching at window screens and whispering through doors.
And the black beetles run and dance. They say - Renate comes....
Night birds sing my name.....
Flowers kiss my feet....
And even though a human soon will die...
the atoms of their body will go on.....
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for more peeks into our world click on~>EL MUNDO VAMPIRIDO ... please leave a COMMENT. please SUBSCRIBE. Share with your friends and visit us on Twitter at Twitter.com/wilkravitz ..... thank you...
Must rest. Even disembodied spirits need to re-charge every once in a while. Flickering in and out like a weak cable signal. So here's a trio of varied, talented and well known people to fill the breach. Plus Andrew's got some real good paranormal serial fiction too.
1) see Andrew Harding's fiction ( a PG or PG-13 taste of what's in his books) at ~~>http://AHardingBooks.com .. attractive, near-vampire cops fight perverse killers and get kinky in their spare time... plus they're real rich too... Google ~> THE HYBRID SERIES by Andrew Harding for more.
2) Erin Morgenstern, author of THE NIGHT CIRCUS orchestrates a magical blog filled with writerly insights and whimsy from her eccentrically cozy garret at ~> erinmorgenstern.com ... Perfect place to visit for a warm, little night time chat...
3) Joe Hill, author of just released supernatural thriller NOS4A2 (nos-for- a-tu...you know, that vampire word... only this isn't that, but something innovative and different) can be reached at ~>joehillfiction.com ... He's penned many other worthy tomes too. He wrote the story for Graphic Novel series LOCKE & KEY... re-defines the genre.
4) and, as always, if you'd care to look through my 700,000 word universe, highlighting vampires, settlers on Mars, poor little children on the icy streets of Old Prague, hard scrabble romance under the 'el' tracks and a whole lot more (think of them like movie treatments), Google ... Vampire Wonderland by Billy Kravitz... THE LITTLE MATCH BOY by Billy Kravitz... EL RANCHO TEXACO by Billy Kravitz... or BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz... can also click on ~>browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland ...
Thank you. that's it for now. must sleep. starting to break out in hives. please grace us with a COMMENT or tweet YOUR LINKS to me at twitter.com/wilkravitz ... and I'll re-tweet them forthwith. (just give me a day or so). and now we swim off to dreamland ><> ><> ><> ><> ><>
I am not knowing why I even communicate with you. Many have seen me pass through this nuanced account. But I never trade words carelessly. Those who devour what comes forth from these magic triptychs care not for the truth. They tingle for copulatory acts, blood drenched dismemberment and cents-off coupons.
Renate knows. She can hear the worms of ignorance feast on your brains. Well... not all. Renate recognizes the vibrations of certain spirits. Those friends in the Tin Isles and various large population centers scattered about the land mass called North Americky, plus the duskward edge of what you call 'The Old World.'
Forty thousand years of consciousness. I saw the ice sheets melt and witnessed other facets of humanity, or near humanity, waste away and die. Scraps still remain... but only scraps.
And I have no recollection of my own transformation. I can't even tell you who did it..... A feeding.... I saw a feeding.... Wandering 'vampires' perhaps two or three, devoured a human play thing... a mutilated one. The creature had no legs and no arms. It's crotch parts were excised as if by sharpened ice-cream scooper. And protruding facial appendages.... nose... lips... ears... were missing too. That is how we dealt with strangers, for no good came from the unknown.... In a sense, each small band was it's own 'humanity.' All others were but thieves.
Do you know when living spirits are thrown into volcanoes they do not scream. The shock is too great, as red hot, viscous rock envelopes every part of their being. And even when they slip beneath the surface life remains. A brain is a wonderful thing and takes so long to die.
Why do I tell you this? No, really, why? I am hoping there are brain-readers among you.... 'head shrinkers' I think you call them. For I do not know.
But until the others, the ones you know best, regain their voices I will tell you things.....
What it is like to glide through the clouds as monstrous waves crush people like chalk, or to walk across the surface of the sun....
My spirit has done many things..... And I have eaten many souls.
Right now I sit beneath the sea, down in the blackest depths, watching crab-things play amidst thermal vents. 'Devil's Chimneys' I call them... calliope reeds from hell.
I close my eyes and taste their sulfurous breath.
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for more click on ~> SECRETS OF THE VAMPIRE WONDERLAND ... please leave a COMMENT and tell others. thank you...
I do not even remember My nativity... My life-eater nativity, I mean. And the details of my mortal existence are just as lost to me. They say I come from an area north of the Black Sea. But of course it had another name back then. We lived in houses made from bones... ivory shells for human habitation. You call them Woolly Mammoths. Our names was more poetic... The Rock that Moves... The Horn of The Spirits.
Can you imagine how cold it was then? Urine froze upon leaving the body, starting on the ground and working it's way up.... arcs of icy piss. Animals would snatch one and run away... I suppose for the salt. and when one of the people died during winter we'd eat them. There was no other alternative. The ground was hard and cold. Even in summer graves were shallow, for the ice never strayed too far.
We had a captive. Later generations would term her a slave. To us she was a curiosity brought from the warm, arid lands to the south. Only we did not say 'south.' To us the four directions were hot, cold, dawn, dusk.
Some men brought her to us as barter for hides.... musk oxen... woolly rhino... things like that. Mammoth pelts were never sold, for they were sacred. Babies were whelped upon them. Transgressors died in them. Do you want to know how? Wrapped up tight and sewn shut like a burrito. Odd that I know that word, but I do. For I have been walking forever.
Those who study the lineages of mankind would say we were first. First to call the gods... First to name the children... First to capture souls.... By that I mean the creation of images. Others came before us, but they were different.... Simple folk... Brutal folk.... And they died very young. I'm told some still live in the endless woods among the Siberiaks. You've encountered one. The 'Old Man,' or the 'Old Bones,' I think you call him. Well, maybe not you, but they who tell the tale.
And if I am to tell the truth, we were brutal too. Though to us it served a purpose. Don't ask me what. I have forgotten. Yet I remember the practices even now.
A man would be caught. One leg, below the knee, would be taken. And the same fire used to seal the wound would cook the meat. We ate it right in front of him. Next full moon was for the other leg, then the arms... Sometimes we'd feed them. Sometimes we'd keep them alive, until a need arose. They did make good bait you know... for bears, or great cats, or 'snow people.' Yetis, sasquatch, big-foot I think you call them. I can still remember their cries.
And sometimes we fed them to night-folk. No one watched. None dared see the deed.
But I did.... And so I was abandoned...
Please... this is still a very painful thing. Let me sit and keen my ancient songs.
Renate needs her rest. See the captured dream displayed below.
When next the sky grows dark I'll tell you more...
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the tale is endless. for more click on this ~>THE BOOK OF ALL THINGS ... grace us with a COMMENT. for more beguiling reads, look here ~> http://AHardingBooks.com ... http://kaye-francis.blogspot.com ...more will appear next time. I meant to make a list but I forgot. if any were entered incorrectly, the mistake will be rectified. if you'd like your link to appear, tweet me and it will. thank you.
If you want to live long and prosper, watch the clip down below and see what Mindy has to say. Mindy KNOWS.... Go to ~> PRETTY_VEGGIE ... and click on the blog too ~> prettyveggie.com .... The vampires I blog for CARE about the physical state of humanity...Thank you. Let food be your medicine...ENJOY!...And please tell others...
There is no video tonight. I do not know why. Perhaps the disembodied spirit orchestrating this couldn't find any? I have such a hard time deciphering disembodied spirits anyway. Let the dead take care of the dead and the living care for the living. I am an elferino. Tell me, where do I belong?
Tonight we wander the financial district... the mid-town thoroughfares housing great banks and brokerage houses. Philadelphia has a stock exchange, you know. And it's quite a respectable institution. Indeed, when Gotham was laid low during the Twin Towers catastrophe, trading resumed the very next day down our way.
But the arteries of commerce run slow in the dark. People go elsewhere... to Rittenhouse Square, or Fitler Square, or Society Hill, or Old City... to the condominiums and cooperatives of style and grace. Yet the streets are not empty. Isolated smidgens of consciousness make their way through the shadows.... Drug dealers looking for quiet, though convenient corners to hawk their wares.... Temperamental, bashful doxies seeking to fill the emptiness and earn a centime or two.... semi-runaways searching for imagined independence.... They sit on benches passing bottles... Cups are not necessary. Alcohol kills the germs.
We see them. We nod. They respond. We sit down and talk, mostly in whispers. Nighttime quiets things. Perhaps a behavior learned in prehistoric times. No telling who else (or what else) might be listening.
Do they know what we are? Who cares? There is brotherhood in darkness. We taste the grog and smoke the crack, sharing our wealth liberally... an emerald here... a Krugerrand there.... could be a greasy wallet fat with bills..... Night-folk pick up many things. Victims are so rich.
I dance for them. Elferinos are good dancers. And they tell me how much they appreciate the show. The whores dance too. Drug dealers don't. They just do not.
Police cars cruise the streets like silent barracudas. We freeze, blending with the shadows til they pass. Hungry souls trolling for narcotics or sex, or both, or whatever approach, standing in the distance and looking... always looking. But our friends know the signals. Each side knows the moves. And in that way trades are made.
I tell them stories of Old Amsterdam... of vampire brothels in Vienna and elfin pick-pockets in Glasgow alleys. They like the stories... and my accent... not quite French... not quite German... I teach them Vahmperigo... My Vahmperigo... the night-folk tongue... Not like what Jonathon speaks... His is based on Spanish... Mine is a northern dialect, more akin to Flemish.
Before dawn I buy them pancakes. Sometimes I drink the syrup. I can tolerate small amounts. Alcohol is a syrup... a fermented syrup. Perhaps that's why.
Then I fly off to sleep away the fiery day in thick walled tombs. God bless Laurel Hill ( a vast necropolis for wealthy bones).....
Shhhh, it's time for pancakes
The waitress sees my pointy ears. But she has Mayan plugs in hers. I think she's not impressed.
Look, I know the vampiric world 'round here is dull, what with Jonathon and Sarah running off and all. But something will happen.
It always does.... Johnny Jump Up still walks....
Oh, God, why did I say that name?...
(until next time)
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link to more ~~~> 700,000 WORD UNIVERSE ... leave a comment here or on @wilkravitz ... that's Twitter. good night.
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