THE FORMER VAMPIRE, TOMAS, WANTS HIS 'PAPA' ... 9/28/14

TOMAS AND THE ELFERINOS & ELFERINAS TALK IN A HIDDEN LAIR UNDER A SMALL PRIVATE MAUSOLEUM IN THE FABLED LAUREL HILL CEMETERY~~~

You have to break through one of the coffins to gain entrance. But they already did that eons ago. Tomas sat there with the others. He likes elferinos (pubescent vampires). How basic. How trusting. How innocent they are. Yet each has certain heightened abilities due to the raging hormones coursing through their bodies at the time of 'inclusion.' They fly... true flight... Peter Pan flight, though infinitely faster. Other vampires 'sublimate,' traveling through matter, even air, while elfin-folk need no quantum construct. The vacuum of space is no barrier to them. Albion has seen the lakes of Titan. How did he stay warm in the glass-like frigidity of such a foreign place? It's a mystery. No one knows. You could ingest every word in LA CIENCIA VAMPIRISMO and not find it. Night-folk keep their secrets well. And I know you're seen some lesser secrets here, but please don't think yourself an 'adept,' for 'lesser' is the operative word. 

Celeste prepares a hookah. She fills the four hundred year old, hand blown glass chamber with rose water and a certain tincture made from the blood of (unknown donors), lights the fire and waits. Then she attaches the pipes and beckons the others. Each draws in the sweet and pungent vapors. They sit there on the packed earth floor, lost in the darkness, beneath the crumbling bones of nineteenth century robber barons 'sleeping' up above. 

Tomas says - I can't go on like this.

Marianne (sighs) - I thought you valued mortality?

Tomas - I do... but not for me. I have seen into... I don't know what to call it... 'the fourth dimension?'... And not just in that cave, that grotto, near Baby Philadelphia... not just in the moon... Everything has been like that since my 'inclusion.' A 'life' with few barriers. You know what it's like.

The others say nothing, but he sees their faces in the glow emanating out from under the ancient, Turkish water pipe. They know. He can tell. Elferinos know a lot. Some they don't understand. Yet that doesn't mean they don't feel it.

Marianne says - Is he here? Can you sense him?

Tomas shrugs. Marianne crumbles dried leaves and sprinkles them into the bubbling liquid. Roland draws first. He likes herbs. Not all herbs. Just certain ones. They say he spent his first years in Brazil.

Marianne ~ Take some, Tomas. It helps. Maybe you'll 'feel' something. 

Tomas - Vampires don't need that.

Marianne - You're not a vampire yet.

He breaks down and cries. Marianne embraces him.

Tomas sniffs. He mumbles something - Scottosh beedosh. Beedosht boposht. Boposht skeetosht... Then he just stares...

Albion - What was that?

Tomas - I don't know... I used to know.. but I don't anymore. I don't know what's real. I don't know what's not real... (laughs) I like peanut butter though. I know that...

Celeste - We'll find him. We'll find 'Papa.' We'll get him back...

Tomas nods. Then he tears up some more.... They hear an explosion off in the distance. Street battles between various factions happen all the time. No one says a word.

Then Roland says - They killed a vampire yesterday. I didn't see it, but a lady on a 'bus' (open air trucks) told me. A 'wild' vampire he was. Nobody controlled him. No warlords, I mean. They sealed him in a glass cube... more like a rectangle I guess it was. I think they embed thin strands of lead in that glass to keep them in. Wheeled him out to the middle of LOVE Park (where the original 60's LOVE statue is)... and left him there til the sun came up.... He, uh, boiled. Flesh fell right off the bones... a pink, soupy mess, bubbling away at the bottom.... They clapped and danced jigs. The people, I mean... the mortal people.... Rectangle thing's still there, if you wanna go see.

Celeste - I hate this world.

Tomas chuckles - Anybody got any peanut butter?

The five friends instinctively huddle together, as another explosion rumbles through the night...

<more about the being known as "Papa' next time>

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K D LANG skylark..Vampire life Quickens and the Nights Grow Longer... 8/27/14

Tonight I'm not talking about our current story arc. We'll go back to Tomas in his pre-apocalyptic Philadelphia next time. This is about real vampires. Yes, I know. Tomas, also known as Jonathon is real too. But we know him. We feel him. We savor him. Eight hundred thousand words is a long time. Not that every passage is about him. But in a way he inhabits them all. Even THE LITTLE MATCH BOY resonates with his voice. 



This is a nod to the vampires we don't know. They'll be out soon. Long autumn nights soothe them. They walk the streets inhaling all the intoxicating vapors of life. They watch us from the fuzzy periphery of reality... a bit paler... cooler and incredibly still.



Some prowl the rooftops, stretching out to peer through scattered, illuminated skylights. Most skylights lead to bathrooms, you know and vampires love watching us  during those real, unguarded moments. Milky glass means little to creatures adept at tasting the world around them. They feel our heat. They smell our essence, observing us as we observe birds, or small drifting fish in a fish tank. 



And they like to toy with our world, whispering in the ears of poets... Everyone who creates is a poet... and most have heard the vampires' song. 



You know, you might have been a life-eater (term vampires use for themselves) in a past life. They 'die.' They are destroyed. Ever catch yourself staring at a light bulb in a still, quiet room, or contemplating the patterns, lines and contours of your surroundings? Sometimes those are signs. Are you intrigued by strangers... passengers on a bus... diners in a restaurant... people waiting at the emergency room? Do dogs gaze meaningfully into your eyes? Perhaps they sense something?



And 'goth' culture is but a parody of the truth.



Music plays a part in this too. Vampires love 'the old standards.' 



Skylark is a special favorite.



That's why we have it here tonight.



Close your eyes and listen... October comes... Not September... September is the anteroom of fall, as much epilogue to Summer as prologue to what comes next.



But October is something new.



So enjoy summer's end. Breathe in her showy death... rich deep orange sunlight... cerulean skies... warm, sparkling seas... juicy, ripe peaches... the virtuosity of crickets.



One day she'll be gone, replaced by chilly nights, pumpkin pies and vampires.



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Tomas Tours A Near Apocalyptic Philadelphia ... 8/24/14

Marianne met him at the Sixteenth and Locust Street subway entrance. Figured a stop on the Patco Line would be a little safer. Gets a better clientele and all. Well, it used to. They don't come in town much anymore, unless they're real rich and got like bitches to guard their bodies. And then they roll in on jacked up Humvees. Some convoy. Some got shot up weeks ago when all this started and they dead, stinkin' corpses in a back alley, so who cares?

They all in black. Tomas and Marianne, I mean. He like that look, 'cause it brings out his lean, hard coolness and all. Some people get time before they turn vampire so they can lose weight and buff up a little. Ugly vampires make folks sick and they don't like gettin' barfed on, specially since they fussy 'bout their clothes.

Tomas don't say much. He just look at everything. Most of the stores all smashed up. Maybe a dollar store here and there still open, 'cause you gotta be real dumb to waste time in there, 'less you queer for Off-Brand deodorant and Cartoon Jesus coloring books. Warlords run like general merchandise places... some new merchandise... some used merchandise... stuff what got boosted from rich folks houses... shoes... hot dogs... brassieres... fruit from Chile. Warlords got everything.

Still a mayor, but he like Queen Elizabeth, 'cept without no pocketbook. Don't do nothin'. He jus' a play mayor. Put out Doritos and soda for warlords' meetings and all. Sometime they let him talk. Sometime they don't.  I think he gonna get shot, or maybe pushed out a window. That why he stay downstairs.

Some toilets work. Some don't. Every warlord got his plumbers. Got vampires too. Most only got one, like for an enforcer. Some got two. You might say - How warlord gonna control no vampire?... But these smart warlords. Got that drug. Got dart guns. Vampire collapse. Get collared. That's it. Not like a dog collar or no electric thing. These collars lead. Night-folk krypton. Vampire can't pass through lead. Can't sublimate. If he do his head fall off. But job real cushy, so they don't care.

Bein' a 'free' vampire, dangerous. They get you, they take you to the Lead House. That the old Eastern State Penitentiary... huge, old dungeon-like jail house. Folks been screamin' in there for two hundred years. Used to have' Terror Behind The Walls' Halloween time ... Fake ghosts... real ghosts (actually documented). Werewolves all fake, 'cause real ones too crazy.

Marianne take Tomas to see Roland and Celeste and Albion. They the other elferinos and elferinas (pubescent vampires). Got hidey-holes in Laurel Hill Cemetery. You never gonna find 'em in there. Dark lanes... old trees... lots a bushes... crypts Morticia Addams would love. It like the QUEEN a cemeteries.

All Philly talkin' 'bout what some warlord did. His warlady mush up with kid what brings the pizza. Pizza kid incinerated in genuine brick oven. Made his daddy slide him in and light it up. Warlady got zipped in body bag with gallon jug of purebred Venezuelan bedbugs. They the 'spensive kind. Not that Venezuela got more bedbugs than anywhere's else. They jus' got fancy ones. Took her two days to die, 'cause a the little brass air holes they put in. 

Tomas tear up a little bit when he hear all this. Marianne say - You wanna stay mortal? Might be safer.... 

He jus' shake his head...

I Mister Never You Mind, the old Cajun-Creole disembodied spirit. Been narratin' this here thing for long, long time.... Dead folk gotta keep busy too, you know...

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NIGHT TRAIN... treatment for a short HORROR film ... 8/23/14

Something different. Pretended tonight's post was meant for London's FRIGHT FEST. Click on Twitter.com/Film4FrightFest if you want information about that. It's on this weekend. 

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Pink! performance at oscars 2014... Tomas' First Night Back.. 8/22/14

It was dark down there, not velvety black, not that dark, but dim and shadowy. They were in the tunnels, the ever so deep, never used tunnels of the Philadelphia Subway System.... extra tunnels. Many cities have them, remnants of an age before motor cars. But they do not go to waste. Thin, little trickles of humanity have found their way down there for decades.... a refuge for the homeless... a place of magical exploration. 



Tomas was in a chamber, an old Edwardian restroom. They have them down there... places for business-suited gentlemen to refresh themselves on the way to their concerns.... pull-chain toilets... white enameled, cast iron, pedestal sinks... old mirrors not quite as silvered as they once surely were. A large, zinc bathtub, dragged out from a long forgotten store room, occupied the center of the space. Tomas reclined against an old, canvas drop cloth, folded to cushion the backrest. Sylvia, first daughter to the Mole King, filled it with countless droplets raining down from an old, lead pipe overhead.... eleven decades of never ending subterranean rain. If the tub wasn't there the floor drain would catch it all. Most 'nights' the small, white tiles glistened.



The former vampire leaned back, as the princess of hidden places bathed him.  Neither spoke. They didn't have to. Both knew the routine. Her sister, Aura, knew it too. But she's been missing since the chaos up above first began. Tomas loved the mole people. He enjoyed his time with the underground tribe. Their large eyes were so expressive in the sputtering candlelight. And now, for the first time, he experienced it all as a mortal. The illumination was less varied. Tactile sensations vibrated with a different frequency. But the animal part of it all was deep and overpowering. No blood drinks. That would come later...



When she met him at Penn's Landing, Marianne (the adolescent vampirina) asked if he planned to remain mortal. She, being night-folk herself, was quite willing to change him. But her line was younger and he wanted the old power back. Perhaps they'd reach 'Papa?' Perhaps he'd reappear? Twenty eight thousand year old Cro-Magnon 'life eaters' (another vampire designation) can be so capricious. 



Sylvia dropped the sponge and climbed in. No need to disrobe. She'd already done that. They spooned in the cool, soapy water, then did something else.



After, they dined on grilled mushrooms and roast pigeon. Both raised underground. Mole folk were adept at sun-free husbandry. Some clans kept clean, domesticated rats. Humans can be so resourceful.



Later he'd go up above, exploring old haunts and narrow, cobbled lanes. How different it all was. Armed bands roamed the streets. Flotillas of police helicopters combed the city looking for... well, just about everybody. 'Urban Feudalism' it was called. Municipal government answered to a congress of warlords. And werewolves (they said) prowled the quiet places.



But how had he sublimated down from Franklin's craft? Where did he get the power? ... He didn't know. Tomas just did not know. He wished Sarah was here. He wished Edith was here... even Conrad.



How vulnerable mortals are.



Life is so brutal.



How easy it is to die...



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WEST OF THE MOON AND EAST OF THE SUN ... 8/20/14

It was all so easy. Great seething tides of manic, screaming flesh swept through the streets breaking windows, smashing cars and killing people. After a while even the cops joined in. Psychologists might call it 'mass hysteria.' But it was more visceral than that.... Planet of the Apes, but without all the chimps.

They say it started in France. Somebody firebombed a synagogue in Marsailles right at the start of The Biblical New Year. Burnt, cut survivors struggled through shattered windows, falling down to the grass below, only to be bludgeoned by crazed assassins yelling shrill, scriptural mantras.

The next day they did it in Paris, but the sanctuary was empty. And in the dry countryside of the south a bomb went off... a 'small' more or less tactical device, atomic in nature and approximately sixty percent the strength of Hiroshima.

No one died (they think) but the flash and the mushroom cloud were carefully recorded. You Tube never had so many hits. Some group in West Jerusalem claimed credit. The Sword of Gideon, they were called.

Soon after The Missouri Compromise failed. Four guys shot up a 'Peace and Reconciliation' panel in Ferguson. Within hours St. Louis exploded.... an instant Beirut.  And little by little, older, traditional hate groups crept out of their basement warrens scattered throughout the Pacific Northwest and various parishes out by New Orleans. Look, other cities had them too. We're just telling you where it started.

They called up the National Guard. For a while they were effective. Manhattan was quiet... sort of. But then a plane flew over. No bombs.... just a hundred and twelve, late stage Ebola victims, thrown from the hold like candy from a pinata. Each had a parachute. Guess somebody else pulled the chords. They floated down to the city and few knew what it all meant til they saw the t-shirts... plain, white, Hanes t-shirts, each bearing five scrawled letters... E-B-O-L-A. ... When they ordered the guardsmen to round them up (most survived the fall) half deserted. That went viral too (in more ways than one). Rich New Yorkers fled to the rooftops, where helicopters scooped them up, yappy dogs and all and carried them off to God knows where.

Three kids interrupted Governor Christie's news conference in Trenton with about thirty five seconds of cell phone video. Said it was 'werewolves' running through the woods by some shopping mall in Ocean County. Governor tried to browbeat them, but folks like werewolves and they wanted to see.

'Least it took everybody's mind off what Putin did in The Baltics.

That's how it was when Tomas, also known as Jonathon, came back. Franklin tried to stop him. Tried to keep him up there in The Moon. Baby Philadelphia is a sweet little town. And the various alien specimens scattered about the inner surface of Earth's little sister get along much better than the (mostly) human population we got down here.

Gave him a little version of The Poor Richard, piloted by an android. Brought him in right over Philadelphia. Not Baby Philadelphia. This was the real one. Came in low, just above the river. He 'sublimated' into the city from there. One of the elferinas met him. They say it was Marianne. Where they went, who knows.... Gunned-up vigilantes patrolled the streets. Some have armored vehicles 'liberated' from a military depot up toward The Poconos, others make do with Suburu Foresters.

In all honesty the Foresters are much more comfortable... til they get shot up that is.

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LOST IN A PC-LESS UNIVERSE... 8/16/14

I feel like I'm bleeding. PC was either compromised by virus or screwed up by my deficient digital science. It's in PC -sick bay now. Should have it back by Mon or Tues...(I hope) ..On a desk top thing at public library now. Very confusing. Kids running 'round. People getting paper cuts and screaming...Bedlam. Noboby tempers their voice (including the staff).. It's surreal. My head feels like it wants to buss' open. That probably happens a lot 'round here, cause I see old dried up brain stains on the ceiling. Ewww, the stain two seats over is still dripping.


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