The Vampire Tomas Falls Through A Thin Brittle Membrane ... 10/3/14

Tomas wandered through the dark, mossy cemetery. The air was cool and damp, with just a bit of old bone smell around the edges. Vampires like that smell, because it's indicative of long forgotten sepulchres and silent, black retreats. True, our hero formerly sheltered in more commodious surroundings. But times change and so did he.

A tiny rabbit hopped along the path. If he'd taken the time for a closer look, Tomas would have seen its human face.... neither male, nor female, or young, or old... just human. But he did, absentmindedly begin to follow. And that's when things began to change. Trees stretched up toward the stars. Stars grew large as camel eyes. He could see monstrous flares around their edges. And the strangely white, pre-dawn clouds arced out toward Byzantium. 

Then the world grew smaller still. Pebbles became mountains and garden slugs swallowed kingdoms. The very atoms in the air pelted him like sleet.  Next came light... a multitude of incandescences, issuing forth from every point and trailing off to nowhere.

Soon even that disappeared and he hung suspended in a charcoal grey void, more vast (in its way) than all the Pleiades, a trillion times over. Seconds equaled eons and eternity but a sigh. But Tomas just breathed. He existed. Is this death? - he thought. Is it Nirvana? .... And then he really didn't think at all.

After a time, if there was 'time,'  bells began to jingle in the distance and he realized he was falling, an infinitely tiny singularity upon a snowflake dancing through a foreign sky... It landed on an endless red, lacquered plain, the side of a sleigh gliding through a snow covered parkland. There were passengers in the sleigh. He heard their thunderous voices. They laughed and made jokes, but he didn't know the words.

Then he slid off, tumbling down to the surface. By the time he stopped, he'd grown, perhaps to the size of a fruit fly. The sleigh was but a distant thing streaking toward the horizon, which in this white and snowy land was, at best, an indistinct approximation. 

But another sleigh, pulled by not-quite horses, came after. As it drew closer, he saw the beings inside... gigantic (compared to him anyway) beautiful, well groomed, canine things, wrapped in furs  and since they had thumb-like dew claws, handling the reins quite deftly.

Tomas, by now as big as a green, plastic, army guy, followed. Bit by bit, even though he was abroad in some sort of daylight, his vampiric abilities began to return. And he streaked through this alien atmosphere (a rudimentary form of sublimation) toward wherever the collie/wolf creatures were going.

<more next time>

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TOMAS FINDS A PORTAL TO ANOTHER REALITY IN LAUREL HILL CEMETERY ... 10/2/14

I mus' be writing this in small, little letters, for I am very shy and this makes me feel less observable. You may ask what I am. I would tell you, if I knew, but that knowledge is not known to me. I am a wraith... a thing. Not disembodied, for I never had one of those. I float. I see. I taste. I die. But my death is not like yours. What befalls me is more like a sleep... a deep, blackness... a cosmic 'off' switch. Though at any moment, whoever's in charge of such things might turn me on.

I saw neolithic settlements, desolate and alone, embedded deep into the post ice-age tundra.How grey the sky. How cold the air. Smilodon roamed that boggy plain, ripping the flesh from huge, white aurochs, juvenile mammoths and solitary humans. And bats, such as they were, had wingspans three cubits wide. Twenty four was middle aged. Few reached thirty. What misfortune to have lived back then.

I saw beings from afar touch down in glowing orbs and lie with frightened girls. They whispered secrets, bit off fingers (just the little ones) and swallowed them down like hors'doeuvres.

Ur had ziggurats. Kemet had pryamids. Mohenjo Daro had what Mohenjo Darans liked and Sodom had brothels. No age is unique. Even yours. You're not so special. What? You got lipstick, burger joints and lap tops?... Wage slaves... You're nothing but wage slaves. Rome had more style. Cathay more intrigue. Hellas better athletes. Hurry off to bed. The boss wants you bright and early. Make him rich. Go on. He'll throw you some coins. How I miss the Viking Age. No hypocrites there. Tear it off and make it yours. Kill the boss. Kill his kids. Kill everybody's kids. Then eat and drink and hump and sleep. I must say, they did put on quite a show... Some of the Arabs do that now, ISIS and all that. The only difference is 'time.'... It moves so quickly now. What will come next?

I know a portal... a passageway 'tween this place and somewhere else. Speak to me not of parallel universes, or intersecting universes, or other plains, or whatever they tell you to call it. That's the trouble. 'They' tell you. So few people create anything now. They wait for others to sanction their very thoughts.

Want to see inside? Tomas comes this way. A new Tomas. A different Tomas. Unafraid to be hungry, or to satisfy that hunger. I'll show him. I'll take him.

Shhhh.... He smells something, an electrical frisson... a convergence of energies. None can see inside, til they are inside. Then the whole thing opens up. Tomas has seen other things before...

But this time he brings something back. This time he isn't afraid. A surfeit of human blood will do that. It provides strength and heat and courage.

Assert your power. If you don't have it, get it. I don't care. Just get it. Get it. Get it.

Or create it out of thin air. Maybe I, myself, should not be so damn shy.

<next time --- The Laurel Hill Doorway>

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: TRADING OTHER PEOPLES LINKS TO RAISE PAGE RANK FOR...: Our narrative story continues later tonight. This is something else. I happened to see a post that said sharing easily clickable links to o... OK, we're putting up the assorted LINK LIST before our next post. If you want your link on the list, tweet it to us now and it'll go up. This HAS helped some people draw traffic and (potentially) inch up in Google Page Rank. Click on where is says TRADING OTHER PEOPLES' LINKS up above to see who's up now. Thank you. If you want, click on Twitter.com/wilkravitz and tweet your link right now. 

המוסיקה היהודית האנדלוסית يهود الأندلس Jewish Sephardic music 500 year old SPANISH SONGS THAT TOMAS REMEMBERS ... 9/30/14

He left Marianne's dark refuge and went abroad in the world. Certain streets were clean and orderly, cleared of refuse and undesirables by the warlords, so they and their clients might have respite from the madness. Influential oligarchs strolled through with their retinues. Well dressed ladies, some wives, some demi-wives drank rare and costly coffees at sidewalk cafes. Fire jugglers and conjurers regaled crowds at intersections. Electronic entertainment, save for sporadic, scratchy radio broadcasts, did not exist anymore, so they played out on the streets for lesser grades of fame.



Tomas breathed it all in, savoring the menu available to him that night. How like the mercados and souks of his boyhood in Old Al Andalus. And in his soul he heard the music of that place, ancient cantorials and Sephardic love songs, sung 'round fires in courtyards and caravanserai. He went into a small establishment, a perfumery in what used to be a chocolate shop. In a way, to a scent intoxicated vampire, it still was. The woman behind the counter, an olive skinned

beauty, bewitched him. Not that she meant to, but her form and mien was so like the ladies he remembered from his youth. She smiled, sold him sandalwood and laughed. He politely bowed his head, forever the well bred, Spanish courtier and paid her in the accepted currency of these times, cut up bits of silver from salvaged tableware.... one teaspoon bowl and a fork tine. Then he put the small bottle, once home to aspirin, in his pocket and left, but he came back later, just before dawn, and took her as she tidied up. A scared, girl, her daughter, watched through a barely opened store room door. Tomas pitied her, all alone in such a place, so he took her too. Then he sauntered off to rest among the crypts and bone safes of the great Laurel Hill Cemetery. 



Like a passenger in a speeding train, he was. Like a slave, deep within the hold of a rancid, creaking ship... along for the ride, though unable to change the course. And in a sense this saved him, absolved him of all guilt. He had no choice. He was compelled. Any resistance would be futile. Besides, it all tasted so damned good and there was so much of it. 



Not my fault - he told himself. This new body makes me do it. The morals and the appetites and the 'need' are not natural to me..... Maybe he was right? And maybe he wasn't. 



But he had an excuse... And an excuse is a dangerous thing for a vampire to have.



Now if you'd like to peek into his mind and share his memories, listen to the music up above, sung in medieval, Ladino, an old Sephardic Castillian dialect.



Memories can be quite overpowering...



<more next time>



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VAMPIRINO TOMAS encounters his friend the ELFERINA MARIANNE .. 9/27/14

She took him to this place, a cellar, or maybe a deeper, second cellar like they used to have generations ago. He sat down on an old bean bag chair. It was ripped, but most of the beans were still in the bag. Place didn't have any electric hook up. Regular electrical service didn't exist anymore. Some had generator. Stealing generators was a big thing. 'Motor hopping,' they called it. But Marianne didn't even have that. She made due with a few cartons of batteries in assorted sizes and a whole mess of battery powered candles. Flickering light... She had flickering light and an old 'camp' radio that also used batteries. You could crank it up too. But that didn't really work.

Then she collapsed onto a broken up, dirty mattress and rattled away in Flemish, or Walloon French, or whatever it was. Tomas put his hand up and said,'I know you don't know Spanish and your Vahmperigo (Mediterranean, Romance, vampire dialect) is abysmal, so stick to English. OK?

The animated, elferina bit into the back of her hand, sucking up the blood... a vampire 'cutter,' if you will... took a few deep breaths and began again... 'When did you wake up?' she said.... He didn't answer. Marianne didn't care. Tomas didn't have to answer. He knew what she meant. She could tell. 

'You know I killed an eight year old little boy tonight?' she said. The mother tried to make it real nice for them. Just him and her. Just the two of them. Covered everything up with sheets. Tucked them in real tight. Pinned them in place and all. Don't know where the flowers came from. Maybe they were weeds that looked like flowers. He had board games and army guys. High up in an attic they were. Thought it was safe. The people in her building grow potatoes in the back yard. Well, now there's one less mouth to feed. Got him while he slept. The mother was sleeping too. She never knew. Twelve feet away and she never knew. Stink woke her up. Smelled the blue flames. Saw him burning and saw me standing there. Started screaming. Threw herself right on top of him. But she can't put him out. Blue flame's not like that. Keeps coming back til he's gone. Like trick birthday candles. You know what I mean? (eyes him) Who cares if you know what I mean... (eyes him again) So, you are not crazy anymore. How many years were you like that? Since you came here?

He just plays with a little mouse crawling through her crap.

'Albion (a male elferino) says we should kill you. But I say you are too powerful. Only now I'm not so sure. You got all your talents back, but something is  not right. They say the body is switchboard to the soul and you have a different switchboard. One eye goes twitch-twitch-twitch. I can see. You got to kill. You got to drink. You know that?

He nodded. After more than two hundred and fifty years she still had that accent... like the girl in AFTER MIDNIGHT. Tomas liked that.... Now it's not like vampires don't have to be careful in this new, almost apocalyptic landscape. They do. Warlords run everything. Oh, the National Government still exists, but at street level it's all the warlords. Washington just takes a cut and keeps the foreign low lifes away. Most vampires have been domesticated. They help the warlords... enforcers and all. Afraid of The Lead House. You go by there late at night, hell anytime, you'll hear them screaming... vibrates right through the metal.

Rogue vampires, like the elferinos and Tomas and whoever else is out there have to watch themselves. Sleep somewhere else every day. Marianne has maybe twelve 'nests.' Tomas gotta start finding twigs.

She let him spend the day there. But he couldn't sleep much... too self conscious 'bout that eye twitch and all. You know how vain that Tomas is.

Kept petting that little mouse. Blew on its fur. Poor thing died of fright, but he just kept petting it...

<more next time>

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Philip Glass - The Kiss (HD) ... como suenos de vampiros locos... Tomas in THE CITY... 9/26/14

They assembled in an old auditorium. I believe it was once  the Theater of The Living Arts, on South Street, where they used to have midnight showings of cult films, like Rocky Horror. But 'Apres Le Deluge,' with the death of civilization and all, the place was definitely not what it was. Though it retained a certain tattered ambiance, like a ruined manor house in Dickens. 



There was a stake on the stage... a thick, tall, upright log, minus the bed of kindling usually found 'round the base, since an open flame in these surroundings was a no-no. Though a ritual of death would take place just the same.  And the witnesses quietly mumbled to each other waiting for it to start.



Tomas slid in, taking a seat near the back. Just another almost-post-apocalyptic hipster abroad in the town. His hair was long, black and wavy and the requisite fine, soft, black, leather bootkins were also in evidence. The man in black was back. And in this second body, gleaned from a twenty eight year old victim, he had a certain worldly air missing from the eighteen year old original. But everything else was the same. They really searched hard for a duplicate.



The lights, already low, grey and smoky, fluttered and dimmed. Everyone stopped talking, a monotone congregation (black was the new black) waiting for the spectacle to begin..... 



Seconds later, a chamber ensemble in the pit began to play... something by Philip Glass. I believe we have an illustrative video up above. Then they brought her out, a naked, young woman. How white she looked in the pin lights from above, an alabaster statue with long, dark, glossy hair. I believe she was drugged. 'Snake bite,' they called it. Her attendants, dressed as nuns, or some type of female, medieval pilgrims, bound her to the rough, wood pillar with grey duct tape. Then they bowed their heads and hurried off. That's when the real fun began. 



I don't know where they got them. Philadelphia's 'cherubs' were never like that. Benign, innocent things they were. But these were different, twisted, vampire babies, with keen, sharp appetites and dark shining eyes.  They flew onto stage, darting about like insects. Beautiful things, resembling Renaissance angels, or juvenile godlings. 



The naked girl flinched. She knew their purpose. Warlords and street bosses had used them before. Brought in from Europe, people said, or from remote fincas along the Amazon. How feral and determined they were, armed with sharp-tipped, whip-like tongues, since at the time of their transformation they were much too young for teeth. Like hornets they were, diving in, taking a drink and zipping off, only to circle back and do it again. The girl screamed. An eye was gone... an ear... a nipple. She oozed and dripped blood like a fountain. With each pass the pace quickened. She writhed and strained against her bindings. A few in the audience groaned in sympathy, but only a few.  Tomas watched, transfixed by it all. Soon bone began to appear... on the knees... the scalp... the clavicles. Not that the tiny vampirinas craved flesh, but they had to rip through it to free the blood.And the boards became covered in gore and meat. Some sat with eyes closed, listening to the music.



Tomas watched til just before the end. He left when the ribs were exposed, returning to the street in order to search out his own food. Gone the reverent rationalizations of his former self. Now he was insane, if that's even the right word. Perhaps vampire nature is hard to fight? Perhaps after all those years it just asserts itself? 



He killed two victims before midnight. What did they mean to him? Such transient, short lived creatures they were. My God, in five hundred years even their distant descendants would be gone. Like flash paper they were.



After midnight he killed some more.



Marianne, the pubescent, elferina, saw him. She saw him take a victim in a narrow, alley-like thoroughfare in Queen's Village. And she watched his blank expression in the glow from the cool, blue flames, as the corpse he'd just drained disappeared.



Then she silently approached and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned. She smiled. Tomas smiled too.



But these were evil smiles, for these were evil times.



She led him 'round the corner and all was quiet.



When the flames were gone some crows came down to pick at all the scraps.



<more next time>



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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: TRADING OTHER PEOPLES LINKS TO RAISE PAGE RANK FOR...: Our narrative story continues later tonight. This is something else. I happened to see a post that said sharing easily clickable links to o... HERE IT IS! easy way to spread links around the internet and, as a result, your link too. Quickest way is to hit that little BLOGGER.COM icon at the bottom of your blog posts (if you have it and are on BLOGGER). 



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