THE EVENT... Papa Likes Drama... 1/19/15

And then we saw it... a pressure wave... a ripple in the air, or whatever passed for air in this place raced toward us... a tsunami made from ether. It tore the clouds asunder. Birds attempting to flee before it lit up like sparklers, as it passed. Sarah and I moved away from the raw, stone 'window' and hid under the bed. God knows it wouldn't have saved us.... a piece of wood shaving in the path of a blow torch. But I was still 'mortal' and she wanted to protect me, so we cowered there, under the huge, carved bed. Funny, what you notice. The illusion (what else could I call it?) was so complete, down to the spider patrolling her web beneath the bed slats. How calm she was... a black and yellow, glossy beauty, delicately knitting a bunting 'round what looked like a plump, green eyed marsh fly. Though upon closer inspection I saw it lacked the loathsome, insect mouth parts and instead had a neat, tiny Betty Boop arrangement, complete with lipstick and a little beauty mark affixed to its shell-like carapace. Was it looking at me? How could I tell with eyes like that? Besides, at any moment I expected to be incinerated and pulverized by the miles high wave. Sarah kissed me. I kissed her. We said our prayers and composed ourselves for the coming ordeal.

Then the tower began to vibrate. Stone resonates to a musical pitch when heated. I could almost hear it 'singing.' Maybe it was screaming. Next came the noise... a sky crushing roar, akin to the monstrous wail rising up from the depths of hell. I was deaf. Blood ran from my ears. Sarah's hands flew to hers, for she could still hear it. 

Blinding light sliced in through the narrow, open slit, blasting shards of stone from the opposite wall. Blisters rose on the backs of my hands. Sarah lay motionless as a corpse, her eyes glazed and 'lifeless.' Vampires face destruction differently, you know. The 'death' part has already been attended to.

And then it stopped. In an instant, in a micro instant it was over. The very stones of the place moaned and fell back into position. Outside, the crushing immensity of the pressure wave froze, each suspended particle of soil and dust contributing toward a translucent ocher hue. We crept out from under the bed and looked through the 'window.' A dead dragon hung there in the ether, it's heraldic countenance twisted and broken... how sad.

Two heartbeats later he spoke. I jumped. Sarah turned. 'Papa' was back, this time in the buckskin attire of a Scythian horseman. He pointed to the incredible sight outside and said - That is who I am..... Then he sighed and just like that, it was gone. All was made right. The highlands were green once more and songbirds swam through the air.... 'Papa' gestured toward Sarah and said - She does not burn. Your blisters are gone. And the stones are all healed...... I said - Is this all an illusion?..... No - answered my once and ostensibly future progenitor - More like a magical construct. Real, when I want it to be real and gone, when I want it to be gone. I was already 'quite formidable' the last time I brought you over. But a lot happens in a thousand years, not counting my brush with Madam Shang. I almost said 'time,' but it was far more complex than that....... I couldn't resist. I asked - Is what we have now 'real,' or is the whole thing also a construct?.... He looked away.... 'Magic' seems an inadequate word for such as this - I said.... 'Papa' nodded. Then he asked if I was ready. I know he meant 'ready' for the unimaginable abilities I'd receive in addition to his blood and I assured him that was so.

Thus it began... and Sarah was there to witness it all. I left this temporary mortal state behind. And Jonathon ben Macabi, also known as Tomas de Macabea, returned to what he was, guided by a miraculous being who many say resembles no one so much as a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere.

But he'll always be 'Papa' to me....

<more next time>

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: .. 1/18/15 .. A VAMPIRE ROMANCE IN OLD TARANTO OR POSSIBLY BARI

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: A VAMPIRE ROMANCE IN OLD TARANTO OR POSSIBLY BARI: The cozy, little bistro closed for the night and so the vampires returned to the street. It was two in the morning. The city was quiet. Som...



Many people from places all over the planet like this passage. It speaks to Papa's changing nature and the fluctuating levels of vampire security... not just vampires, mortals too.



Tomas and Sarah travel through Europe so that she might learn a bit of his early times.



If you like this 'peek,' click NEWER POST at the bottom and see more, or click OLDER POST, depending on the direction you'd like to take.



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< we'll return to Papa's Highland Tower next time>



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POSSIBILITIES IN THE ENCHANTED WORLD... 1/16/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~~

And then we slept. That's all I know. When I awoke, we were in a large, carved bed, snuggled into the hollow of a straw filled mattress, made up with a homespun linen sheet and covered by two down filled comforters. The round, tower room was still dark and chill. Papa still sat in his throne-like chair, there by the foot of the bed. Still in full, Scots regalia (though of a seventeen forty five type). And I thought, how strange for him to observe us like that. But then I noticed he wasn't there. I climbed out of the bed and went closer. The eyes, his eyes, were glass... clear glass. I fished a long piece of straw from the mattress and lit it on the brazier. Then held it up before what passed for corneas. I peered inside and saw weak, orange light reflecting back from the interior surface of his skull, if it was a skull. Papa had left the building. His skin looked like fine, bisque porcelain. The clothes did too. 

Sarah opened her eyes and whispered - What are you doing? ..... I said - I don't know.... She said - Is he conscious?...... I said - I don't even think he's here..... She threw off the covers and joined me. I blew out the tiny flame, lest it burn my fingers. She softly ran her hand along his jaw..... Where is he? - she asked.... I just shook my head. I'd seen magic, horrific magic. I'd seen the Earth encased in an over head ocean. Above the clouds, a shimmering, translucent, emerald shell. I'd seen a girl in Medieval Jerusalem consumed by what was essentially a huge maggot. The crushing immensity of Jupiter's lurid cloud decks.It's all here. It's all in the record we call Vampire Wonderland. Google it. Search for it. You'll find it.

And you want to know what magic is? It's manipulation. Everything is everywhere, like pages in a vast eternal book. 'Magicians' just have the ability to leaf through it and find things. I could do some as a vampire... telepathy... sublimation... the manipulation of small things, coins, knick-knacks. But Papa was something else all together. And time meant nothing to him, or those like him. He could sit at the bottom of the ocean, beneath the crushing sea, watching little crabby things crawl over giant tube worms for decades. Perhaps he conjured just a bit of weak illumination to witness it all? Maybe it emanated from his skin?.... He could climb to the heights, throwing himself from a mountain top, arms outstretched and sail around the world on thermals and jet streams, always staying in the dark. But sunlight didn't harm him. They say he could 'transfer' himself to the vaccinity , of our parent star and hover there, transfixed, encased in a sphere of ether, inviolate and unchanging, staring at the planet sized 'mountains' roiling 'cross the surface, as monstrously huge flares arced over his head. Why did the light not blind him? Well, let me put it this way. In your world it would. But God knows what world he was in. And God knows what additional 'tricks' he'd acquired from Madam Shang. She's even older than the Lady Renate. I don't know if she was ever human. Which is not to say she was not mortal, just from some other place.

Had he already forgotten us? Were we stuck here, imprisoned like Rapunzel in a high, remote tower far, far away? Would he return in a timely manner, or wander back after centuries? Were 'centuries' even the right frame of reference?

I was getting hungry. I was still mortal, after all. Would Sarah, being 'night-folk,' become desperate enough to feed on me?

Do you see how complicated 'magic' can be? Precision is everything. So much can happen. There are so many variables. There are so many pitfalls. 

Yet I want to go back there... to that special place... where all things are possible and everything is everywhere.

That's when the room began to grow warm...

<more next time>

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PAPA'S CASTLE IN THE HIGHLANDS ... 1/13/15

JONATHON SPEAKS ~~~~

First of all, my name is not misspelled. I write it that way as an allusion to the Hebrew original ----- Yo-nah-tohn. That's all. We get tweets and Emails and all manner of digital messages about it. Please know that a name is a personal thing and mine conforms to basic rules of phonetics, so that's it.

<now back to our story>

Papa doesn't sublimate. He can, if he wants to, but after twenty eight thousand years of paranormal evolution, he has other choices. So at the same instant we left the tunnel, deep under Center City, Philadelphia, we appeared in the castle. And this is not a romantic redoubt out of a courtly fable, but rather a stark, grey fortress set atop a high place on the treeless, Scottish uplands.

There was a huge iron brazier in the middle of the room and if we were mortal we'd have breathed steam. That's how cold it was.  Papa sat down on a large wooden chair. It looked like a feudal throne such as a local laird would have occupied while dispensing justice to his tenants. Maybe it was. Sarah went to the window, really just a narrow opening in the wall. I came up behind and hugged her.  She was so cold.  I looked at Papa. He never made eye contact, but he knew. Two heartbeats later the brazier glowed with a deep, red light. Peat, I think it was. Such a warm, natural fuel. Whether real or just an illusion conjured by our host, I do not know. Does it matter? Soon there were other furnishings in the room. Sarah and I sat down on two, deep, Romanesque chairs, by the brazier. Moonlight streamed in through the window. Save for the occasional low 'pop' from the fire, all was silent. We almost fell asleep...

Then he spoke. Papa said - Please excuse what to you must seem to be unbearable lethargy, but this is how we are..... (more silence)... Sarah said - Who is we?...... Papa studied his hands and said - Old ones.... I said - Where are we?..... The 'Old One' smiled and said - With me..... Then he pointed toward the window and whispered - Look...... We turned. Since the opening was small, we couldn't see much, but a dragon flew by. It was far off and bathed in a silvery, lunar haze and when it passed, two small ones followed after.... Other than that time in London at the Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn House, I'd never seen anything like that. Certainly not a family. And I know Sarah hadn't..... I looked at Papa and said - Are you a vampire? I mean 'still.'...
He thought and said - At this point, I don't know and I don't care..... Will you bring me 'over?'.... With that, the sound of Judy Garland singing 'Over The Rainbow,' straight from the nineteen thirty nine movie, quietly radiated out from each and every rough hewn stone of the place..... Papa said - I like that song and don't worry. For your purposes, I can be anything..... A vampire? A life-eater? - I asked. He just nodded and smiled.

The Judy Garland song faded away, replaced by a low, quiet, old tribal chant. Guess he liked that song too. In twenty eight thousand years you hear a lot of them...

Soon I saw the dragons fly back the other way. I suppose they were going home...

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HOW TO MAKE A VAMPIRE... Part III ... 1/13/15

Papa held out his arms and Jonathon went to him. This was, after all, the being responsible for his preternatural existence. They embraced. All was still, save the tiny, dancing flames upon the many candles. The two elferinos and two elferinas hovered about them like angels in a seventeenth century altar piece..... Then he gestured toward Sarah and she approached. Papa hugged them both.

For approximately twenty three heartbeats no one moved. The mole-folk just stood there, like congregants at a strange service. Then, one, wide-eyed mole-girl with a soft mop of dark ringlets, began to sing. She went - I think it's so groovy now that people are trying to get together. I think it's so wonderful that people are finally getting together.... Some of you must know that song.  The others began to clap to the beat. Papa looked into the eyes of his two descendants and smiled. He felt like a mortal, but he was so much more. Blood was a special delicacy, though not a fundamental necessity. And please know, to ordinary  vampires, it is not so much drinking blood, as it is taking lives. They exist independent of the physical world. Oh they feel it. There's gravity and pleasure and wind and rain and music. But they don't need it, though some are weak in that regard.

Papa raised his hand. Instantly, all were silent.... Papa said - Bring me the girls. The mole-people were reluctant to do so, for they so craved the show and none moved, at least not fast enough to satisfy the uber-vampire.... Time for a lesson. Papa pointed to a shifty-eyed mole-man squeezing a pimple. Before the man could go - Me?.. he immediately bounced from the floor, smashed his skull and shoulder into the ceiling, crashed back down and repeated the whole thing two or three times in quick succession, til he was an eighty seven percent dead bloody mess. Some of the mole-children began to cry.... Papa paid them no mind. Just focused on the mole-king (you can tell mole-kings by the squirrel-skin scarf they got wrapped around their neck... some say it ain't exactly squirrel-skin) and said - The girls..... Mole-king looked at Zeke and Ed, his two acolytes. They're real cooperative types. They like being acolytes. Getting a ladder and fishing those two girls up out of the pit (really a storage space that never got its heavy metal door) is a whole lot better than scrapping up an eighty seven percent dead guy. Besides, the girls were naked. They climb out so fast, like an invisible, crazy monkey biting their ass. Not that they got the same ass. Each got an individual ass all her own. First one's a pickpocket. Second one's still saving up for pickpocket school. You know the government don't help with that.
First one's supposed to be Jonathon's 'First Meal.' Number two's the 'Seed Carrier.' I know it's brutal and primitive and wrong, but that's what vampires do. Seed Carriers conceive before he's fully changed, while his seed is still viable. They have a different routine for making female vampires, but I don't know if they want me telling all that. 

Papa looks at the mostly dead guy and snaps his fingers. Guy groans. You could hear shattered bones grind back into place. Heals up real fast... Like a messed up string puppet getting pulled up straight. Now he's just maybe seven percent dead, which is pretty good, since in his natural state he was like nineteen percent dead. 

Naked girls look worried, 'cause being bare and all, getting zapped with magic can hurt. Papa says - Cover them up and get them out of here....

Two mole women lead them off...

Jonathon whispers - W-won't I need them?
Papa caresses the back of his neck and says - No.... Sarah looks pleased....

Then Papa addresses the mole-folks and goes - People of the subterranean tunnels, we bid you adieu...... With that he grabs Jonathon and Sarah. They instantly sublimate up through the ceiling, the actual subway tunnels and the sidewalk, into the cold, night air. Of course all the sublimation power came from Papa. Garden variety vampires can radiate it out a foot or two from their bodies. No telling what a specimen like him can do.

Fourteen heartbeats later a big, black car rounds the corner and stops. Motor purrs. Window comes down. Papa sticks his head in and says - Much obliged, my good man, but I believe we'll manage on our own...

Then he grabs our two main vampires (though Jonathon is still technically mortal) 'round their waists and pfft! they vanish into the ether.... headed for a place, known only to him..... there to do the deed and bring his long lost son back into the fold...

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: 51ST BINGO BOY episode 12/22/12... 1/12/15

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: 51ST BINGO BOY episode 12/22/12: BINGO BOY - post 51 Welcome. Welcome, Oh, best beloved. Witness the first day of the New Beginning. Yes, I heard many of you saying we w...



This is a peek into our BINGO BOY story arc and this episode is narrated by the disembodied spirit of an ancient Mayan nobleman. That's what some dead folks' spirits do when they pass on... find work as muses or narrators. Who do you think tells you the stories in them books?



This tale's all about a rough, crooked bingo hall and all what works there...shills... kids collecting quarters... number callers and bosses... But they got dreams... And they got complications. 



Please click on up top where it says 51st BINGO BOY EPISODE... part takes place at the Jersey Shore, if you like the Jersey Shore. Part takes place in like a jail cell down a little row house cellar.



Even got a cute, pudgy baby in it... Not the jail cell... the story...Please jump in.. Look around.. Click 'OLDER POST' to see older episodes or NEWER POST to see newer episodes.... this was a NaNoWriMo thing, but people say it'd make a good movie



BINGO BOY by Billy Kravitz (that is if they let me direct)



How to Make A Vampire III comes back next time.



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HOW TO MAKE A VAMPIRE Part II.. 1/19/15 plus, watch this too... Goth Andrew De Leon Amazes The Judges With His Voice

The world, or rather 'all worlds,' the omniverse, I might say, is quite an unusual place. So please, do not be self-limiting. Don't let others plot your course. Do that yourself. 


Jonathon experiences many things this night. He is emotionally 'busy.' That's why I'd like to ask you all to permit me, Johannon, his faithful servant since the beginning, to channel this. You know me. I've done this before... one of the disembodied, spirit, narrators and all that. Let me say the words...


And they assembled in the underground 'station,' a never used, subway stop, deep beneath the streets of Philadelphia. The mole-folk were there. Sarah was there. The elferinos and elferinas saw it all too.


I suppose there were other spirits in attendance. Nobody counts the ghosts. But that doesn't mean we don't see things, even if we fail to see each other. Now let me tell you what I saw...

Flickering light from the many homemade candles gave the place a neolithic look. Such an assemblage... wide-eyed, grey skinned mole-folk, pubescent, elfin vampires, other more mature life-eaters and God knows what else was in there. I suppose the ghosts buried alive during the cave-in when they built the place (or at least some of them) were there. I saw two or three eighteen nineties mustachioed navvies (laborer, ditch digger) myself. One with a half crushed skull and eyeballs dangling from optic nerves looked interested. His buddy, flopping along like a seal on mashed arms and legs seemed intrigued too. I don't know what fixed-in-place entities endure. They are like sentient pieces of furniture... abiding and absorbing every worm, dust mote and beetle. Apparently the entombed navvies can move about a bit. They have a certain 'radius of operations' so to speak, perhaps governed by their spirit-strength at the time of their deaths? A student of the ethereal world I am not. I just 'live' here. Thank the Lord I am not fixed in place, but rather tied to the physical form of my 'charge.'... I am tied to Jonathon, also known as Tomas. And that arrangement is largely consensual. Nine hundred and fifty years (roughly) a body servant. I saved him when the Crusaders burnt that Provencal synagogue and was there (in spirit form) when a vampire found his sooty, barely living form in the moonlit ruins. But enough about that.

Let me focus on what went on in that never-used subway stop.....

All eyes looked up at a point in the center of the rough, moldering ceiling, originally painted in a rather Maxfield Parrish sundown motif.  Though most of the image planed down like snowflakes long ago. Right where the nucleus of a streamlined comet used to be came 'a something.'.... a dark presence... a huge drop`of tar-like excrescence that grew and hung there fat and pendulous for an instant, before plummeting down to the (what was once) polished concrete surface with a sharp, concussive force.

Inky fluid splashed everywhere, peppered with tiny bits of pulverized cement. Everyone moved back, as noxious smoke rose from the spreading stain, coiling into a column and condensing into a 'human' form....

Jonathon (standing by Sarah) froze... 'Papa,' the very same being who saved him from the smoking ruins all those centuries ago was back. And, you know what?... Jonathon was resigned. Sarah was too..

And who is 'Papa?'.... Well, maybe 'What is Papa?' would be a more natural question. If you've been attentive, you know he is a vampire. Though that breed has many variations. This one is said to resemble a thirty two, or thirty three year old Richard Gere. At least that's what Sarah says. And he's twenty eight thousand years old, 'mothered' by the great Renate, herself even twelve millennia older. They move in and out of the world capriciously. We see much more of him than her. 'Renate' is not her birth name. No one knows that. She just picked it up somewhere. Imagine her time... her mortal time, I mean. Among the first 'modern' humans to venture into Europe, or that part of it uncovered by ice. Vampires, you see, go back to the Neanderthals. They have this 'prayer.' They say --- 'Each but a link in a chain. May no one know the source. 

Sometimes Papa's benevolent. But only sometimes. He did save Jonathon, after all. But he did destroy the Etruscans and Mohenjo-Daro too...

So there he stands, dressed in full Highland Regalia, of a type worn in Jacobite times ... seventeen forty five... last gasp of the Stewarts and all that....

Papa can do many things... a 'man' of many appetites.

And now he's back...

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