Johannon Looks In On Boopsie, The Little Witchling They Just Took In... 2/11/14

He thinks he's writing this. Billy, I mean. But he just works that magic-talking-book. The words really come from me. You know me. I am Johannon. I was here a few nights ago and told you a lot... a lot about how it was for me back when I was in my body... back before I met Jonathon (also known as Tomas). Well, tonight I'll tell you more. 

It's cold. The girl with the tight clothes on the big window over the fireplace said 'single digits tonight.' I really don't know what that means. Never grew up with ways to measure such things... not in itty-bitty ways like they do. We had different kinds of cold. There was butterfly killing cold and flower killing cold and cabbage killing cold... water freezing cold and salt water freezing cold. Didn't have no numbers attached to it. Now everything's got a number. Streets got numbers too. Here, in this city named in Greek, Philadelphia, that starts with Second Street. 'Two Street,' folks call it. 

I go out and pass through the town on nights like this. Like to see the steam rise up from them 'man hole' covers. Like to see the shops all closed up snug and tight. Few places open all night, but not too many. Not around here. Not in Society Hill. Most of the cars are parked off the street in big garages. People buy spaces... little bits of property where the machines sleep. 

Sidewalks all old bricks... Houses mostly the same. White, marble steps.... Big, glossy, thick front doors... heavy brass knockers... If Ebenezer Scrooge hobbled 'round that corner and came down here right now he'd feel right at home. That's no lie. I do see people from his time... spirits, I mean. Don't know if they see me. Everybody into 'their own thing' I guess. Besides, on those nights, I am not concerned with those who've already 'passed.' On those nights I 'talk' to the living. Don't really like that term, 'living' I mean. Because I am living too. I see and feel and think and cry and laugh.... just not the same as you.

I whisper in people's ears. They don't hear the words. Maybe a few do, but only a few. And what would they hear... Some Arabic?... Some Hebrew?.... Old Spanish?... A bit of Provencal? No, they know not the words, but the truth behind them. I see a good and stalwart soul, waiting for a bus, alone at three o'clock. They press back against the plexiglass wall, out of the wind and hopefully less visible. But I hover 'round them and send reassurance. None will hurt you now - I tell them. And they feel it. For I can make myself   known to base and rougher sorts... to those with knives and blades and pistols. They see me, not as Billy saw me, or as Tomas often sees me. But as I was in that 'meeting house, in that synagogue, in that house of prayer, after the Crusaders burned it all those many lifetimes ago.... My head, little more than a skull. Skin like charcoal... nose destroyed... lips curled back and burnt like bacon.... eyelids gone, but staring even so. Draped in grey, dry, tattered rags... A wraith... A specter ... A ghost.... They see and they run. I accompany the worthy individual to their place of toil and leave them at the door. They work and they go home 'alive.' I have made myself useful. I am happy. 

Now I drift back to the house. The spirit of a little terrier, scared and trembling, whines and cries over his ruined body. The driver never stopped. I appear to him, not as a frightful thing, but how I truly am. He sees and recognizes our spiritual kinship. The trembling stops. He cocks his head. Listens. Shifts his weight from side to side, pants and trots off, drawn to others of his kind. Afraid no more, for all dogs go to heaven.

I am inside. The rooms are silent and dark. Some night-folk still prowl, others lie snug in their beds. I ascend the stairs, walk the hall and go in. Edith sleeps, snoring lightly, a book opened on her belly. I bend and whisper in her ear - The book. Your glasses... She stirs and puts them away, snorts and falls right back. I turn toward the cradle. The baby stands, leaning on the headboard, eyes wide open. She sees me. Her glittering eyes never blink, but cut right through me. I can't resist. I do it, flickering back to my frightful, loathsome corpse. 

She laughs... claps her hands and gurgles.... I slowly back out, watching her all the way.... And she watches me right back.

As I descend the stairs and can no longer see her, the cradle begins to creak and rock.

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Hoagy Carmichael - Stardust 1933..this gonna be the theme song when 'wonderland' goes cable... 2/9/14

 Whatever they did, Tomas and Luna I mean, Grigori Usipov (in his new body) began to heal. His eyes began to focus and if the images weren't sharp, well, that was better than nothing. Hearing still a little off, but Doctor Franklin was sure that would come along too.  So they continued dosing him with tiny vials filled with Tomas' blood. Franklin felt being 'older' and all it'd be more efficacious that Luna's. It's funny. She is officially a vampire now, but I don't know what she think's she is. Still likes doing her doctorin' and wearin' them crisp, white lab coats. Can't absorb human food. She tried and threw up chicken nuggets and hot apple pie all over some McDonald's on Seventh Street. Kid gave her a dirty look. She told him to drop dead and go to hell, 'cause she's sick and can't help it. Tomas got her a little round, cardboard container of foil wrapped bullion cubes. Got chicken flavor. Got beef flavor. Figured since they don't have a lot of calories, they don't have much food value and maybe she can handle that. So far, so good. She dissolves them in this little tea cup Franklin gave her. He says he got it from Marie-Antoinette herself. It is French, but so hard to determine date, as so many styles continued on for decades. Tomas says he probably pinched it from Versailles when nobody was looking, or maybe it's just an Edwardian reproduction picked up from some auction house on Walnut Street. Ben Franklin was known for his naughty, little tricks. 


They let Usipov swim with the mer-folk for therapy. The facility is really very nice. Big grotto-like tank, underwater rocks.. fine sand bottom... a few cleaner varieties of bright, little fish. Ariel would be quite at home. They're not prisoners, you know. The mer-folk, I mean. A truck from the bureau picks them up off a remote pier down on the Delaware Bay side of Cape May County. Takes some back. Brings some in. It's been that way since they started repopulating the shallows and estuaries. So far few sightings or run-ins with 'civilians.' Them fishy-folk (really more cetacean) are good that way. Old ones, like the wrinkled-up Sea Hag who lives here permanently, can go a bit batty, but what can you do... what can you do?


Tomas went back to the townhouse... last night, just before four in the morning. Right before I went to bed. If you were on Twitter then, you already know this from when I told you my stomach hurt and I couldn't post anything. Yeah, it's me, Billy. But you know what I find when I blog? Mister Never You Mind seeps through. He likes to talk, that one. I don't mind. A true creole gent he is. You know, I've never seen him. The only one I've ever laid eyes on is Johannon and that only happened a few nights ago. Well, the little boy in the basement, maybe. But he doesn't count, 'cause he was here (in this particular residence) before we were. 


Leo met a girl. He claims she knows and doesn't care about the night-folk part. Conrad says she looks like (his 

words) ' a bony old hippie thing.' Thinks she's a Wiccan. Probably imagines vampires are too. My God, what people think about them. Edith tells him to be careful. He can't kill her. He can't feed on her. He gets all nervous and fidgety and says he knows. Girls father owns properties in Center City, mostly east of Broad. Look, half the people in South Jersey, or the city, or the Main Line would recognize the name right away. And the other half... well, who cares about the other half?..... Oh, don't mind me. Living in a big, old Society Hill townhouse like this does that to people. Shhhh, listen to the clocks. Tick... tick...tick. And Downton Abbey's on in the family room. I can hear a little of it in the kitchen. Big doings tonight. Big doings here too.


Sarah wants to take in a child, a little witchling. Mr. 'Edith,' our Edith's husband brought her in from The Pine Barrens. Some forest families take to such things. They look for it and foster it. Others drown such infants. Well, 'drown' is a nice way to say it. What they really do is leave them in the marsh for the snapping turtles. And these are big, alligator snapping turtles. Not that it makes much difference. Says they call her 'Boopsie.' Appears to be nine, maybe ten months old. Cute little thing. Smiles... gurgles... chubby. Got her in Edith's room. Conrad (he is the strangest vampire you could ever meet. think John C. Reilly from STEP BROTHERS) found a Jacksonian era cradle in storage and brought it down. All wrapped up in a quilt it was. Looks new. A good dusting. A little polish. All set. Bet that quilt's valuable too. Ought to go 'google' it. Elferinas say they'll help with the baby.  Sarah's already arranged for a medical doctor to advise on formula and all that. He says a wet nurse would be best. Tomas says the house is Thirtieth Street Station already. Doesn't want too many outsiders about the place. Edith rolls her eyes and says - Too late for that.


They're with the lawyers right now. Sarah wants things done right... trust fund... securities... bank accounts... all that. Tomas says - Who's going to take her to Gymboree? .... She doesn't answer. 


Haven't seen her do any 'slight of hand yet.' Of course if she did it'd be purely instinctive. She's not even a year old.


The little ghost boy, the polio victim, in the basement, says he saw her climb the draperies.... Just like a cat - he said.


But paranormal beings tend to go on so...



Hope you listened to the music up at the top. It's to be the theme when we go to cable.


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HANDICAPPED VAMPIRE-RU33IAN -OLIGARCH, Grigori Usipov PERKS UP, 'CAUSE A THE OLYMPICS AND ALL... 2/8/14

They wheeled him into where the tv was. Doctor Franklin was in there, a few of the technical guys, Luna, the hot vampire-medical doctor and Tomas. He came back from the shore. Baylah and her rich, mortal boyfriend lost a lot of money at an all night poker tournament and got all bitchy about it. Told him to go to hell, 'cause he drank all the flavored vodka. Vampires can tolerate clear beverages and broths and all. So he went out, sublimated through the wall of some closed liquor store. like a booze and snacks supermarket really, and came back with two big bottles of some orange flavored stuff. Slammed 'em down on the table. Mortal boyfriend gives a look. Baylah goes - What are you doing to my table!? What are you doing to my table!? You dumb son-of-a-bitch! .... Boyfriend goes over and runs his finger over this little, tiny dent, more like a subtle depression in the veneer. Makes a noise. You know, like a little grunt. Baylah goes -  That's a twenty two thousand dollar antique, or it was a twenty two thousand dollar antique....... Tomas goes - (to the boyfriend, not to her) Look, I'll buy you another one.... Boyfriend makes a 'no, you don't have to' gesture. Baylah goes - where you gonna find another one!? Gawd!..... So Tomas says - That's it. I'm out of here.... And right then and there he sublimates through the wall and whooshed all the way back to the city. You know what Baylah and the boyfriend did after that? Fixed themselves up a little and went back to the casino. Played blackjack. Won a few thousand. You know, it's not the money. He's got so much and them vampires don't even know how much they got. It's like a common pot, but more than enough. They just don't like to lose. Look, nobody likes to lose, but most people can at least tolerate it. Baylah and her mortal boyfriend can't even do that. She got issues about being kidnapped away from her mother in Timbuctu. Can't stand not being in control. Most vampires got dramas like that. Learn to live with it, but not her. She's itchin' to start something. You know how snot-nosed kids who get famous real fast act? Well that's her. At least now it is. 

Tomas don't even go back to the townhouse. Heads right to the complex. Walks right in. He knows all them secret entrances. Runs down the steps. Finds a guy. Knows his face. Don't remember his name. Says - Where is everybody?.... Guy goes - In the 'quarters.' They're in the 'quarters' (Doctor Franklin's sumptuous digs) ...... Tomas don't say nothing. Goes WHOOSH, right through the air. Cuts through a few walls along the way. Vampires don't like changin' direction when they sublimating. Hard to maintain momentum that way. Some can't even do it. Places he passed through was mostly empty. One had the Sasquatch pit. Lights were real low, 'cause they were sleepin'. Two Chewbaccas all tangled up in the hay. They keep snorin.' Snore like pigs. Smell like dogs. You know how dogs smell when they real dirty and then get wet on top of it? Like stale, pissy, Doritos. How they put up with that? Maybe in the wild they bathe and groom more? I don't know.

Hears a television in the next room. Goes in. People all sittin' 'round, eatin Lorna Doones. Franklin likes shortbread cookies. They like an old variety. Philly had 'em for hundreds a years. The Doctor looks up and goes - So, the prodigal returns..... Tomas says - Leave me alone. I want a drink..... Franklin gestures. Some kid, like an intern, get him a cold, plastic bottle a diet Sprite.  Vampire can drink most diet sodas, 'cause it ain't got no human food value. Tomas grab it and twist off the cap. Take a swig and goes - Is that all you got!?..... Franklin says - For three months it is. My frequency's off. I'm not vibrating properly. The Grand Armonica picks it up. I need to rest. Sit down, my boy. Relax. 

Olympics are on. They watchin' some little Russian girl makin' like she Alice In Wonderland to Stranger In Paradise. Then some choir sing their national anthem. How come all them European countries got real pretty songs? Sound like they part a Les Miserables, or somethin.' ..... Grigori Usipov, the handicapped temporarily bodyless vampire-Russian-oligarch perked up a bit. Kept saying - What's that? What's that? What's that?..... Luna, who's like snuggled up against him, goes - Can you hear it?.... She taps it out in his hand. They got this simple, homemade version of deaf people talk.... Usipov goes - I don't know. I don't know.... But it seems like he's getting something. Starts humming along to the national anthem. Luna looks at Doctor Franklin. He shrugs . Then thinks of something and goes - Get him some vodka..... Tomas says - I thought you didn't have any?.... But Franklin ignores him and adds - Russian stuff. Get the Russian stuff. No  Polish. No French. Russian, alright?...... Intern kid comes back with an 'old fashioned' glass ( like a heavy, wide short, squat tumbler) filled with vodka. Gives it to Luna, who carefully places it in Usipov's hands. He smells it... inhales the aroma and goes - Da da da da da..... Then he starts drinkin' it like lemonade, which gotta burn a little, 'cause he ain't re-vampireized yet. He still mortal, but downs it like a champ.  You know how them Russians are?... Finishes it and goes - Aaahhhh.

Franklin's pocket starts vibrating. No, not vibrating. More like an almost musical chime. Fishes 'round and pulls out a thick, clear, crystal disc. Looks like he slid it off the central bar of a little not so grand armonica.  Holds it between his thumb and forefinger. Gets up and goes over the Usipov. There goes that noise, only now it's louder. Can't tell if it's higher or lower, but it's different..... Everybody looks. Luna too. Usipov goes - What is it? What's going on?........ Franklin thinks for a moment, then says - You, Tomas, get on his other side, like Luna. Snuggle up to him..... Tomas hesitates...... Franklin goes - You're a thousand year old vampire. What the hell difference does it make to you? Do it. Do it. Do it......... He reluctantly complies. Usipov goes - Who dat!...... 

Franklin's crystal changes tone and vibrates a little stronger. The old patriot says - Make like you're going to sublimate. But don't do it, because that will kill him. Just think about it...

They do..... Franklin goes - Hug him. Hug him real hard..... Usipov giggles at the attention. But he begins to blink his eyes and focus, like he sees something.... Franklin notices. So do the other technicians..... He goes - Take your clothes off. The fabric gets in the way.... Luna immediately complies. She's a real exhibitionist. Most vampires are. Tomas is too. They're vain. They like to be admired. But Tomas also likes to be independent. Sucks his teeth and holds back..... Franklin makes a face. He sighs.  Tomas sighs too.... but begins to shuck down....

Usipov goes - Uh oh... and begins to giggle uncontrollably, as Franklin's crystal disc vibrates ever stronger.

The old scientist whispers - Good, good, good, good, good.

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HOW JAY LENO (really does) INTERSECT WITH THIS PARANORMAL TALE.. 2/7/14

They talk about six degrees of separation and it's really true. We all crawl on each other's spider webs more than we know. And this little paragraph or two shows what happened between me and the guy who took the baton from Johnny Carson. 

The REAL Jersey Shore... late seventies (VERY late seventies). I was glorified cub reporter/writer for a nice little glossy called ATLANTIC CITY BOARDWALKER MAGAZINE. Did Best 'n Worst features... What's Hot & What's Not and anything else we could steal from PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE ( a BIG, THICK book, kind of like LOS ANGELES MAGAZINE), where I interned before that.  Celebrity pieces were done by the big bosses, not by me. 

But one night in the RESORTS INTERNATIONAL gift shop, I give a look and the guy standing next to me buying sundries or snacks, or something is a young, shaggy haired comic named Jay Leno, in town to appear on DINA SHORE. (He'd already successfully appeared on many other shows) .  And I never did things like this, but I said - Oh, Jay? Jay Leno? Hi, I'm Billy Kravitz. I write for ATLANTIC CITY BOARDWALKER and, uh, could we do a piece on you? Could I interview you while you're in town? Do you think? Would that be okay? ... He thought for a few moments, nodded and in that trademark 'Jay Leno' voice said - Yeah, sure. You can do a piece on me..... Instantly I felt my heart pounding high up in my chest where it meets my neck. He told me to meet him the next day... BACKSTAGE at THE DINA SHORE SHOW. Think they were filming right there in the hotel. A.C. has big hotels with media set ups and everything, even back then they had them. So I go and I meet him and we talk and I experience the GREEN ROOM (an official major, nationally televised program's green room with food and drinks and chairs and everything) and the make-up room (like an ultra bright barber's or beauticians... the make-up girl looked like Lisa Kudrow) and other generic 'backstage' areas. Jay sees Frankie Avalon. He knows Frankie Avalon. They talk. And I get introduced too. And the kids from FAME, the GLEE of its day, are there. Hello's all around. I'm ALMOST FAMOUS, just like in the movie. An unbelievable experience. 

And all the time Jay talks... about Boston... his family... comedy... his degree in speech pathology.... and (the take away) NEVER take a day job that pays decent money, if you really want to do something else. Because once you cash that first comfy paycheck and spend a little at MEN'S WAREHOUSE or HOME GOODS the 'hunger' diminishes a little and the big shiny dream begins to fade.

Remember that...'cause it's true.

That's all. No ghosts or vampires tonight. Just a much loved memory from back in the day. Thank you to a first rate, gracious guy for giving me a peek into the real 'wonderland.' 

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THE GHOST, JOHANNON, TELLS OF MASSACRES, MARTYRDOM AND CRUCIFIXIONS .. 2/5/14

I sat there in the weak flickering glow from the fireplace studying the motionless apparition sitting across from me.... an almost opaque presence, but not quite. Tiny pinpoints of silvery light sparkled from within the spirit body. Was I afraid? Of course I was afraid. After what happened with the first one, what do you think?  I thought it was Johannon. Yet how could I be sure? Supernatural beings have an advantage. Look what Madam Shang did to Grigori Usipov. We see so much in this house. And since living with these 'people' I've learned to 'see' things. They walk the streets at night... shadowy figures disappearing in the shadows. You've seen them. But you pretend not to, especially when you're driving and can speed away.

The ghost said nothing. He didn't move. But I knew it was Johannon. I heard him in my mind, or rather I felt him. I knew what he knew. His eyes were open, but he didn't look at me. I whispered - Why are you here?..... He 'said' - I don't know. You promised the living souls who read this you'd show them ghosts. I heard that and so I am here.  Where is my charge?....... I knew he meant Tomas. I told him he was off somewhere with his consort, Sarah. Johannon seemed to accept that. I 'said' - Please, aren't you attached to 'Jonathon?'..... The ghost said - That's all I ever called him. The 'Tomas' part came after..... And then he was silent for a long time. but he never answered my question. I said - Please, sir, talk to me of your life..... I figured he'd like a more traditional, old world cadence. He knew what I was thinking. He felt it and he laughed. I didn't see, or hear his reaction. I just understood it. And then he began.

The presence 'said' - I was born in the fabled medina of Granada, in the four thousand, eight hundred, fourteenth year ordained by Our Lord. This age calls it '1054.' My father was a radanite, a long distance traveler, merchant and explorer. He'd been back and forth to Hind and The Tang Empire, what you call 'Cathay' twice. And this was two hundred years before the Trinitarian known as Marco Polo made his pilgrimage. Our home was the equal of any noble residence in the city. Indeed, my father and uncles were contemporaries of the ben Macabi (Jonathon's family). Life in Al Andalus was agreeable, not perfect, but (sigh) less brutal than almost any place in Christendom. Though there were certain cruel, petty, telling limitations. Jews and Christians could not bear arms, or even seek marshal training, though both communities did so in secret, yet against Muslim numbers such measures were pointless. We paid extra taxes, could not wear silk or furs, or for the most part, fill positions of authority over any but members of our own faith. Public religious celebrations were denied us. No bells. No horns. No trumpets. But we could live. Our children were educated. Our livestock unmolested..What more could one ask in such 'primitive' times?. Though in my twelfth mortal year all that changed.  He who ruled over us, the king, known as Badis al-Muzaffar, of a line originally from the Moroccan Shore, named a vizier, one Yusef ibn Naghrela. And that one was a Jew. Needless to say, others wanted that honor. For to be a vizier in Al Andalus was a great and honorable thing. 'The king before the king,' as some called it. And they who were against him spread tales. Were they true? Who knows? How often does anyone save ambassadors, brother rulers, generals, certain nobles or religious teachers come to know such people?

But on the thirtieth day of the month you call December, in the year you call '1066,' our enemy took his revenge. They say four thousand people died that day. They crucified ibn Naghrela . Grabbed him and martyred him right then and there. Was he a true Jew? Who knows? But if he prayed with any other group would they have killed them all? They shattered his wrist bones with black, iron spikes. Did the same to his ankles. And when he called out they smashed his face. Women were torn with razors. Children thrown head first into wells. Those rich in years had their heads twisted 'round til they died. Homes were burnt. Cattle killed. Horses killed. Asses killed. Parrots, felines, monkeys. I suppose the carp in the carp pools met the same fate too. All the pools I saw after were broken and dry, at least ours were.

Valuables they snatched. Slaves they stole. Some who survived were stolen and enslaved too. Do you think they cared? Do you think they asked questions?. But I don't know...I managed to live through it, I hid in the cellars. Oh, they ran down there too, but I escaped through a slews gate, a pipe used to drain the place during infrequent but damaging strong, fast, flooding, autumn rains. They saw me. They ran. One lunged, reaching into the pipe with foul, slippery, bloody hands. I kicked. He jabbed with a short, stout blade of a type mariners use to cut rope. I bore the scar til my mortal death fourteen years later

Some of our brethren had been called back by then..'Good news! We are not killing you NOW'.... The old story and maybe not so old. The Family ben Macabi were among the first to return. Agents kept the house running and even maintained some level of business. They were more or less unscathed, at least in body. I lived on the streets with a band of urchins. We begged, did odd jobs, looked for 'lost'bijou from amongst the trash heaps.... some of which were not so lost. A dangerous life.  I know not if the scripture based courts would have taken the hand of a youngster, although I did see one or two not much older than I so maimed. Look, to be honest, most Trinitarians would have killed us out of hand.  'Out of hand' either way (and I felt him chuckle)...

But one day I saw haulers delivering sealed crates to the back of the ben Macabi villa. I asked if I could help, maybe carry in some small boxes for a coin or two. The foreman liked my smile, so I did. After, I stayed behind, concealing myself in the dining room and when the family there assembled  after Eventide (sun down services) presented myself. I told them my name and how my late father was an associate. Some thought me an impostor, but one uncle, more pious and learned than most asked me to prove it. When I recited The Tenets of The Faith quickly and accurately, without pause or hesitation, they believed. I was taken in, though not as a ward, but as a servant. And I was grateful even for that. At least they gave me clean, new clothes and a plate of hot, stewed lamb.

Is that how you met Jonathon (also known as Tomas) - I asked....... The motionless apparition nodded. The only movement he made all night. But he could not tell me more, for the cold, light of dawn was upon us. And his form began to fade.....

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THE 'GHOST" KNOWN AS JOHANNON 'SPEAKS'... 2/5/14

I didn't go back to the little den/office in the basement. It seemed to sinister. Who was that ghost? Why did it manifest? I know Tomas wouldn't like this, but he's off somewhere with Sarah. They like to explore the woods at night, usually different paths through the Pine Barrens. Oh, they have all different kinds of haunts there...lots of them. But most are possessed of a certain country charm and I've never heard of any attacks. 

Our people on the police force, Tomas' 'familiars' I mean, said the dead girl from last night was labeled a drug fatality. I asked - Was she?.... But the cop who came to the townhouse only smiled. I wanted to know more. I asked questions. He evaded. Edith said - Keep your mouth shut. Don't push. Don't get involved. So I did. I pretended to be satisfied. I pretended to believe the dead girl lying in the gutter was some kind of an addict, or maybe a careless recreational user. Only didn't she fall? There should have been bruises. But nothing. It looked as if somebody (something?) helped her down and drained the life right out of her. Not the blood. Nothing like that. Just the life. Naturally there was no means of identification. No wallet. No handbag. I don't know what police labs do. Maybe they'll find something?

Edith didn't want me to let the second ghost talk. But I said it was Johannon. She knows who he is. Doesn't usually interact with him herself. I do that. But she knows. The door to that little office/den space in the basement is locked. We won't go in there til they do something. I don't know. Tomas knows people.  Somebody'll come in to bless the place. Imagine, a basically reverent, moral vampire calling in a religious adept to perform a 'cleansing.' Edith did some pow-wow stuff, though.  Got a few spoonfuls of dirt from the back garden. Mashed a few bits of bread in it. Dripped in a little milk. Made a paste. Dabbed it all around the door frame. Said prayers. Even played Tomas' old Kol Nidre (old Hebrew prayer for forgiveness)record. I told her I didn't think it was right for the occasion. But she said it sounded 'religious' and she thought we should play something. 

The elferinos and elferinas were around. They had nice little 'day rooms,' sleeping places in the basement, but they didn't go down there. Edith told them to sleep upstairs since the others were away. So the two girls (Marianne and Celeste) slept in Tomas and Sarah's space and the boys (Roland and Albion) took Leo and Conrad's rooms. I think they're down in some deep, forgotten, unused subway tunnel with the mole people. You know how obliging them angel-haired, big eyed mole girls are. Probably givin' each other sponge baths in some semi-functioning, partly ruined, plaster dust filled, candle lit rest room. Some a them pipes still give forth a trickle. Water's a little rusty, but who cares?

So I took one of the big, leather club chairs in the family room. Settled in and opened the lap top.... Edith said - You want me to sit with you?..... I go - No, it's just gonna be Johannon. I'll be alright.... She asked - Are you sure? After last night and all, I mean...... I shrugged - I hope so. Look, if I start screamin' you run down.... The elferinos'll sit with you - she said... But I just shook my head. They may be vampires of a sort. Still, they're so innocent (there's no other word for it, even with all they've been through) I hated to get them involved..... So I sat there by myself, staring at the low, orange glow in the hearth. Edith turned off most of the lights. Disembodied spirits have an easier time maintaining coherence if there's not so many other sources of energy in the room. Then she shot me a wave. I nodded and she went up.

It got quiet. Fire 'popped.' I jumped.  Piece of ice slid down from the roof. I jumped higher. Then the big flat screen over the fireplace lit up. No sound. Completely silent. Think I peed a little when that happened. Wanted to get up and run. But a hand came out from under the front of the club chair and grabbed me 'round the ankle. And a voice, I couldn't make out the individual words, but understood the message, said - No, please stay..... No threat. Nothing like that. Just a simple request. Then the hand disappeared. Not that I actually saw it so much as felt it... But the air in the room felt calm. So I relaxed, as much as I could, and watched the scene unfold. 

Shapes and images took form on the screen. The initial brightness dimmed a bit, revealing a street, a neat, stone, cobbled street running from the far distance to the screen itself. Neat, stuccoed buildings flanked it. Black wrought iron balconies festooned with potted geraniums looked down from upper floors. And colorful songbirds in delicate, black wire cages, mounted down toward street level where passersby might see and enjoy them  provided detail and texture. A figure approached , a man, tall and straight, with short cropped hair and a close dark beard. He wore a trim, grey cassock, long sleeved and buttoned to the neck and finished with a dark red sash. I recognized him right away. It was Johannon. I'd felt his presence before. I'd channeled him and spoke to him, but never like this. He was so real. It was so immediate. He was right there.

Then it was done. The screen went black. I was alone in a dim and shadowy room. But there before me sat a figure, almost opaque, almost solid, but not quite. I looked. He nodded. It was Johannon and after a moment he spoke. The words were Spanish, though archaic, yet I understood his every word.

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: MARIANNE IN BRITCHES: An hour or so before dawn the barrel maker's boy rapped on the trap door..... What? - said the dominee...... You see, vampires are not ...



This is one of our best story arcs.  A fourteen year old (in appearance anyway) elferina-vampirina regales a posh, townhouse salon filled with well-heeled subscribers, with the shocking truth of her adventurous life both before and after her dramatic 'vampirization.' Join her as she shares tales of nights in Old Antwerp and Inquisitional dungeons. Lead is vampire kryptonite, don't you know. Lot a cool facts in this one. 



Scroll up and down to see it all. You know how to do that? You go to the OLDER POST or NEWER POST thing at the bottom of each episode and click on it. Worth it for the harrowing sea crossing sequence alone.



So please click on where it says 'MARIANNE IN BRITCHES just above all this red letter stuff and dive in. 



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