Nathan's Private E-Journal October 6th, 2014 "I May Have Made A Mistake..." Part - II

    Ah, how I love the crisp night air on nights like this. I think Fall and Winter have always been my two of my favorite seasons. Long before my change I used to love these times of year. Something about the cooler weather just made things easier on my achy body. Of course, back then no one had heard of Fibromyalgia, you were just considered "too delicate" or "a malingerer". But in those seasons, I just always felt more alert, more alive and still do. Although now it may be partly the fact that since my body prefers evenings, the shorter hour of daylight probably plays a big part in things.

     In any case the cool air and the signs of autumn are helping lift my spirits tremendously. 

     The barren branches of the trees seem to reach out as if to touch the starlit night sky.  There are a few clouds but not enough to mar the view of the moon or the stars.  Halloween is not far away, and I hope the evening is like this so everyone can enjoy themselves trick or treating or going to parties.  Perhaps I should open the manor to visitors?  Nah, too soon.  Although Richard's done wonders with the place, but it's not ready for visitors.  Or maybe it's just me, which is probably the case, since I'm using all this mental wandering to avoid the problem of Marisa hanging around the old locomotive, which happens to be exactly where I'm headed right now.

     How long has the old thing been there?  Even I'm not really sure.  We were a rail town long before the war started back in 1861 and trains were coming and going on such a regular basis, who'd have noticed if one engine never seemed to be moved?  I'll have to ask Louisa the next time I see them.

     I can see her outline in the darkness up ahead.  One side of her is lit up from the distant glow of a streetlamp.  She's always been impressive looking, in spite of all the rust and weathering from all the years of exposure to the elements.  She's a fixture from another time and will in all likelihood continue to stand there for many decades to come.  Especially since there is no way to move her.  She's anchored to that spot, just as I hinted to Marisa last night.  

     That probably wasn't one of my better moves, but she was so upset at the idea of the thing being haunted I had to come up with something more pleasant and intriguing.  Alas, that is part of my curse for having become a writer.  My mouth works faster than my common sense some days.  Of course, there are those who question whether I have any common sense at all, like Louisa.

     Oh, the haranguing she'll give me if the carnival shows up and finds Marisa hanging around one of their 'anchors' to this world.  That woman can have the sharpest tongue on her at times.  Hell, she could put a ginsu knife to shame when she wants to.  Not that I can blame her.  Like me she's very protective of those in her carnival, and with good reason.  If anyone ever knew the true nature of any of the members of Karneval Schatten, or where they came from...  

   Wow, I'm actually shuddering at the thought.   But who could blame me?  Our first adventure together was a terrifying one.  If it hadn't been for Brandon Elliott and his great-grandson Peter, I don't know if even I could've survived the fire that night.  Thanks to them, we all got out in one piece... well almost all of us.  Brandon stayed behind to keep that white-haired creep at bay, while Peter and I got the trapped employees, along with Louisa and her troupe, to safety.   

     I tried to go back for Brandon, but it was already too late.  The building had begun caving in on itself and the heat had become too intense even for me to mist through.  I felt like a failure that day, until I noticed young Peter, who was standing no more than a dozen feet away, talking to a man that everyone else seemed blissfully unaware of.  It took me a moment to recognize the figure as that of the man who had saved us all, only he was looking much younger.  I thought about going over to them, but just then the figure faded, and Peter came over to me saying, "We have to get the others out of here.  There's a train about a half a mile from here we can get them on.  But it has to be soon, otherwise the opening will close, and they'll be caught again."

     I started to ask why, only Louisa's mother (also her namesake) joined us.  Having seen my abilities in action earlier, she begged me to help get those in her care back to their train.  Most were still exhausted from their imprisonment inside the depths of the factory, while others had been injured in our escape.  Having learned that many of them were, like my Sangui-Sapio half, were not from this Earth, I agreed.  Getting them to the safety of their conveyance had not been easy, but between my mist form and mind control we managed and saw them off.  That was the second time I'd seen a portal to a Para-Earth open, but the first time I saw one close.  However, it wasn't the last.

    They'd asked me to come with them before they left, but I declined.  At the time, I'd only recently lost Madeleine my first wife, and our son Brian (who Lisa's father is named after) was still in mourning and needed me.  So, I remained behind, that time anyway.  But our paths crossed again and again, and always they'd bring me back here to this spot because it's one of their an "anchor points".  At least that's what Otto and Louisa told me once, long ago.  In spite of all my travels with both Otto and my carnival friends, there's still so much to learn about Para-Earths.  Lisa seems fascinated and would like to go with us on one of our jaunts, and one day I might take her.  But first I'll introduce her to Louisa and company the next time they come calling.  

     Whenever that will be.  I never know.  Sometimes they'll come to town and stay a few days, while other times they'll just show up in the middle of the night looking for me because my talents are needed.  They always seem to know where to find me, not that I mind.  I have many friends aboard that train.  I'm just not sure about Marisa encountering them unexpectedly.  

     The Crypt will be open tomorrow night and I know the girls will be showing up, so I'll talk to them then.  If worse comes to worse and Marisa insists on visiting the engine, I'll make sure I'm on hand just in case the carnival suddenly decides to come to town at the wrong moment.  

For those who have read the "The Vampyre Blogs - Coming Home" this entry takes place the night before Marisa and Lisa are taken up to Nathan's art studio, after Marisa's little fight with another girl.  It in the studio that Marisa's first suspicions about Nathan's true nature form because of a dropped compact. 

Until next time, happy reading dear friends.

Nathan's Private E-Journal October 6th, 2014 "I May Have Made a Mistake..."

 *Today's tale takes place during "The Vampyre Blogs - Coming Home" but does not appear in the novel. .  You may consider it an untold tale that happened shortly before the big showdown between Nathan and the Funus-Sorbere  (referred to as the Ghoul Slime in the story).  Yes, we intend to start giving these life forms real names in "The Vampyre Blogs - Family Ties" novel.  For the record, the life form that transformed Nathan is referred to as Sangui-Sapio.  This story also serves as a little prelude to one of the tales in our upcoming anthology "TVB - One Day at a Time".  So please sit back and enjoy.*

      As I sit here in my study, staring into a nice blaze in the fireplace, I think I may have made a huge mistake.  

     All that encouragement I gave Marisa last night with the writing... what was I thinking?  But it's probably too late now.  She seemed really fired up about the idea, especially with Lisa cheering her on.  Any sudden change in attitude on my part would only raise a bunch of questions and self-doubts, which is the last thing she needs right now.  I gave her the idea about taking up writing to help keep her mind busy while we wait to hear back on her dad's test results.  But now I can't help thinking that there may be unforeseen consequences.

     Not that I don't think she should try her hand at writing, I think she could probably become a very successful writer.  She has a very keen mind and I've looked over some of her papers when she and Lisa have done their homework at my place.  Her command of grammar and sentence structure would make any college professor weep for joy.  Believe me I would know, Otto used to give me no end of grief about my writing.  Mind you, I learned to write back in the 1850's and 60's and what was considered acceptable back then was quite another matter.  Furthermore, I went to war instead of college back then.  It wasn't until 194- that I actually stepped into my first classroom and that was at a university.  And that was only after Otto spent a number several years bringing my skills and knowledge up to an acceptable level, while Para-Earth hopping.
    Otto... I wish he were here; he'd know how to advise me and not just because he's at least a couple centuries older than me. Oh wait, that's precisely why he'd know what to say right now.  Sigh.  My mind is all over the place tonight.  Between coming back home, finding out Isabella has been around all this time apparently waiting for me, helping Richard with his drug addiction, and having to keep my secret from Penny and Marisa... it's a miracle I've still got my head on straight at all.
     I so want to see Isabella and talk to her, but as near as I can tell I shook her up pretty badly the night I attacked Richard.   I don't want to make the same mistake with the others, especially Marisa.  She seems to have a deep dislike for anything vampire-like, which is strange because John told me in confidence, they used to watch vampire films together all the time.  I wonder what changed?  Maybe Lisa can tell me, I'll check with her.
      "Not that any of this helps me with my main problem," I tell myself and get up.  Pacing around the room I find myself stopping to stare out the window. 

     Evening has fully settled in, perhaps a walk might help me work through my little dilemma.  Yes, that sounds like a nice idea.  I always think better when I'm out and about on my own.  And then maybe I'll come up with a good excuse to keep her away from the old locomotive on the edge of town...

TO BE CONTINUED...

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VIII CONCLUSION – Epilogue

 

That’s what we had to splash across the posters outside the theater announcing the release of Lost Films of Roscoe Fatty Arbuckle.

And from what I’ve been told already, we’re sold out for the next three nights as well.

The SOLD-OUT part caused quite the uproar, but since I had a ‘in’ with the owner, I’ve been able to assure everyone that we’re adding as many more runs as the public demands. And each showing will involve more of the red-carpet treatment.

What exactly is the red-carpet treatment you ask? 

Well, it involves a number of celebrities and officials in attendance (which will vary depending upon the individuals’ availability, as well as other important folk who had not been able to attend the opening night festivities), along with the red carpet. I’ve also hired a number of actors and actresses from the local and neighboring theaters, as well as students from the high school drama departments, to show up in full costume and make-up as stars from the past to help add to the atmosphere. Those not walking the red carpet will be in the ‘crowd’ screaming, cheering, and asking for autographs. And in fairness, we’re rotating members of the “crowd” with the red-carpet walkers so everyone gets their chance to get the ‘star’ treatment.

Mind you, ‘the crowd’ will be mixed in with those in the actual crowd of news media, and onlookers who show up. We just want to make sure there would be enough folks on hand to make things seem more authentic. Not that we really needed our actors/actresses, quite a real crowd showed up and from what I’ve been told, they’ll be showing up again and again.

From what everyone has been telling me, the look-alike celebrities are a huge hit alongside the important guests, who had a ball mingling with Hollywood’s stars of yester-year. Who knows, maybe a few new stars may be being discovered, or at least given a chance to make their own names known? I can only hope.

Lisa, Marisa, Teddy and a few of their friends are certainly becoming better known. As I had promised Roscoe, I decided to showcase some of the talents I’d learned over the decades from him. Tonight, we recreated a scene from Roscoe’s “The Cook”, which involved perfect timing as I (as the Cook) tossed various items across the stage to Teddy the waiter as he was coming into the kitchen. This in turned into a dance number. We also recreated several other scenes from some of Roscoe's other movies we were showing tonight. And everybody was right on cue. 

This was mostly thanks to Lisa. Roscoe had shown up several time during rehearsal to help give her advice and instructions on how to help the others get their timing down just right. But even with his guidance, more than a few plates, cups, and other breakables (although we started out with plastic ones) met unfortunate ends during those rehearsals. 

And because I’m such a swell guy, I did permit people to film and record our routines. Why? Because having our antics shown all over the internet is going help build interest in this wonderful crew of talented young people. Who knows? Maybe it will lead to some radio, television, commercials, or streaming service projects for some of them down the road.

In the meantime, I already have a few Keystone Cop routines in mind for Teddy and the rest of this little band of actors. After all, I want to do some more silent film festivals in the near future. 

But what I’ve enjoyed most was seeing more of Roscoe, and knowing it was really him. For so long, one of my greatest regrets in having such a long life was knowing I’d have to say goodbye to so many wonderful people I came to know and love. Of course, new people keep entering my life, but it’s still very having to eventually have to let go of the ones you’ve already known and loved for so long.

I’ve not had the courage to ask Roscoe anything about the afterlife. But just knowing one does exist is reassuring. And even more importantly, knowing that 'some' of my older friends from long ago will show up every now and then to spend some more time with me, makes what I assume (based on my already extremely long life) my many years ahead a little less scary.

- THE END

We hoped you enjoyed this not-so-short tale about Nathan and company. We've wanted to do a story like this that demonstrates how in spite of his already long existence and research, there's still so much our hero does not know about his condition. And we're looking forward to exploring and finding out more of what those possibilities are, with all of you.

In the meantime, more re-runs of older past stories will appear here for a while. Allan has a new novel (which does not involve Nathan or the Para-Earths) to release in the next two months. 

Also, we are hoping to release a new anthology titled "The Vampyre Blogs - Two For the Road" coming later this year. At the moment we're aiming for a late September/early October release to coincide with the Halloween season.  After all, what better time of year to release stories about a vampyre and his friends? 

As always we thank you for coming and reading our tales, and supporting our efforts. Please remember to share this site and tell others about the Vampyre Blogs and the Para-Earth book series. We have much more coming and are looking forward to entertaining you with many more stories and adventures.

Take care and happy reading everyone!

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VII

 

In that same moment, Roscoe turns to me and says, “I’d be honored if you would. But with one condition!” He then points to the cannisters still in my hands, “Start with that one!”

I look up at him and ask, “Why this one?”

“Hey, I went to a lot of trouble to finish that one,” he explains, “And your time to shine has been way overdue, pal.”

“No one’s going to see me,” I point out, “That’s why we had to scrap the whole idea of making more movies together, remember?”

“Yeah, but today’s technology can capture your image,” he grins back, “And I know you’ve already made a couple of appearances in those Hallmark and Lifetime adaptations of your work. Don’t be afraid to do some more. Show ‘em what me, Al, Mae, the Marx Brothers and the rest I taught you! And have a blast, while you’re doing it! Remember. I’ll be in the audience cheering you on with Lisa, Otto and the rest of that big old extended family you got.”

Looking at that big, huge smile on his face, along with Lisa beaming at me, there’s no way I can say no. So, I don’t.

“All right,” I concede. “But I have to know one thing. HOW, can you be here? You don’t have any unfinished business, do you? I mean if you do, I’ll do everything…” but he’s already shaking his head.

“It’s nothing like that,” he chuckles, “You just don’t know your own strength.”

Once again, I find myself shaking my head. “How do you mean?”

“Do you remember how you had to put the bite on me that one time to save my life when those thugs tried to burn down the theater with everyone in it?”

“All too well,” I sigh. That had been the night he had learned the truth about me and my condition. He’d been seriously hurt and wasn’t going to last long enough for the ambulance to arrive and take him to the hospital, so I’d done to him what I had once done to Richard and a number of others. I’d bitten him and put a bit of myself into him in the process, using my powers and will to keep him alive. This also meant a special mental and emotional bond had been formed between us, one that always allowed me to know if that person was in danger or needed me in some other way. It was a bond that would only be severed when that person passed on. Or so I had always thought.

I looked up at Roscoe who was smiling fondly at me, “News flash! That bond of friendship, doesn’t always end at the grave.”

After several seconds of stunned silence, I breathed the words, “Thank God!” and meant every word.

I could hear Brian starting to make his way back towards us, so I said quickly. “But it only works with the people…”

“You gave a bit of yourself to,” my old friend finishes for me. “The rest are exactly what you thought. Made up from your memories of them. But me and a few others will always be here for you.”

“Thank you,” I reply and give him a huge hug, just before Brian rejoins us.

“I cannot believe you’ve had all these films restored and transferred, without telling me!” my godson exclaims, as he comes over to me. “People have been scouring the world for a complete copy or at least pieces of some of these films, for decades. You have to share these with the world! Do you realize the number of archivists, celebrities, and other important figures who’d come pounding at your door get just a glimpse of some of these?”

To be honest, I’d never really thought about that before. Such an event would certainly bring a lot of people to Pointer. They would need places to stay, eat, and shop, during their visit. And with Pointer’s parks, forests and historic sites, there’d plenty of other things for our visitors to explore.

Such an event could really revitalize the town. I mean I’ve done what I could to improve the community with donations and other events, but this could really put us back on the map.

But simply showing the films, didn’t feel like enough to me. I wanted to give people something more, something special and really memorable…

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Roscoe and Lisa. He’s teaching her a few of his dance moves from one of his more famous films, “The Cook”. And that gives me an idea…

BONUS MATERIAL: Clip from Roscoe Fatty Arbuckle's Silent Film "The Cook"

Fatty Arbuckle, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

TO BE CONCLUDED...

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part VI

 

For a second, my legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I manage to keep them from buckling with a supreme effort.

One of my dearest friends, who had died seven decades earlier, is actually standing right in front of me. But is it the first time? Was it him on any of those other occasions? And if it was, how?

But before I can begin to find my tongue, Brian comes bounding over to us saying, “Is that true, Nathan? You were at that party?”

“Oh yeah,” I mutter, “And before you ask, no it was nothing like what Virginia’s friend Bambina Maude Delmont told people, or what Randolph Hearst put in his papers.”

As those words leave my lips, a part of me wishes once again that had taken witness stand and testified back in 1922.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Roscoe says stepping in front of Brian to face me. “Remember, the trial took place during the daytime, and those lawyers would’ve kept you on the stand for hours. No amount of blood would’ve kept you going for that long. Plus, all those reporters would’ve gotten shots of you for the front page, only to find you didn’t appear in them. No, sir! There was no way I was going to let you risk everything for me. But, knowing if it came down to it you would have, always meant a lot to me.”

I smile. His words mean a lot to me. Especially, since I now know it’s really him and not a construct from my mind. But again, I have to wonder, has this always been the case? And what about the others I’ve encountered over time? Were they ghosts as well? Have I been completely wrong about myself and my abilities all this time?

“No,” Roscoe assures me, putting a hand that feels very warm and real on my shoulder. “Only a few of us are actual ghosts. The rest are being brought back from your memories.”

Throughout this silent exchange, Brian has been wrapped up in a discussion with his daughter about my revelation of having been at the party with Virginia and Roscoe. The two of them have already covered the case and why I hadn’t testified, with Lisa supplying some of the details she had overheard Roscoe pointing out to me.

As I listen, I hear Brian piecing together the rest of the story from there. Which is not surprising to me, since he’s always been a guy who knows his onions.

Great, all this time going down memory lane has me thinking in slang terms from the 1920’s. Next thing you know I’ll start going on about Lisa’s legs, calling them gams.

“She got nice ones?” Roscoe asks, having apparently heard my thoughts.

“Oh yeah,” I mouth back, keeping an eye on Brian to make sure he doesn’t see me. “And plenty of moxie.”

“Kind of like another young lady, you were rather fond of,” Roscoe observes, then adds, “Lisa’s built a lot like her too. Especially in the upper department.”

Mentally, I shake my head, as I try not to blush.

Mae West had been the first woman I fell in love with after my wife Madeleine had passed away in the 1890’s. I first met Baby Mae, that was her stage name back in 1907, when she was working vaudeville in Ohio. The name was appropriate at the time since she was only 14 at the time, and very petite in height. In fact, even as an adult, Mae was only 5 feet tall.

We met again in 1911 in New York and by then she was using Mae West as her moniker. Our acquaintance started out as a passing one, but after an incident in a back alley, it became something much deeper and passionate. God what an amazing woman.

No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, when I find myself glancing over at Lisa.

“I think I know where your mind has gone,” Roscoe teases, “Now if only you’d allow the rest of you to go join it.”

I quietly shush him, but I know he’s right. Lisa does have a lot of the same qualities Mae had. But she’s also very much her own person. Which makes her even more special, in my eyes and my heart. However, she’s my godchild, one of a great many. One who also has a mind of her own, I remind myself thinking back to our walk over here from the theater.

But now is not the time. Roscoe’s revelation of his existence still has me taking a few mental steps backwards. I swear every time I think I’ve figured out all there is to know about my condition, the more I find out there’s still so much more to learn. First Isabella, now this.

Just then Lisa rejoins us. Looking up I see no sign of her father. “Where’s…?” I begin, but she cuts in with, “He’s going through the filing cabinets to see what else you have stashed away down here.”

“Well, all he’s going to find in there are copies of the films I’ve already had restored and transferred for use on modern projection equipment,” I tell her, then ask. “I take it, you know who’s with us down here.”

“Duh,” she replies with a roll of her eyes, “I am psychic remember? Plus, I have met and spoken with ghosts before.”

I nod my head. She’s right of course. I’d been on the scene for several of those spectral encounters, two of which had nearly ended with Lisa nearly ended with her becoming part of the next world. Just the thought of that happening to her, still makes me shudder.

Meanwhile, Lisa is introducing herself to Roscoe who gives her a dignified bow, which he promptly converts into a bashful comedy routine from one of his silent movies.

I can’t help but smile. It’s obvious the two of them are hitting it off famously. Which brings me back to an idea I'd had about what to run on the big screen for my theater’s opening night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part V

             But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, I make a face at my old friend, while Lisa and Brian finally find their words and begin peppering me with all kinds of questions. Mostly they want to know why I never said anything about a movie career.

Sighing, I head over to them and explain, “My ‘movie career’ as you both call it, was rather short-lived. What you have in your hands was supposed to be my screen test.”

“Screen test?” Lisa repeats and holds up the cannisters in her hands. “This is a two-reeler. That’s not a screen test, that would be full-length comedy feature back in 1912.”

“Two-reels?” I barely manage to get the words out, as my mind races across the decades. Had we really shot that much footage? Obviously, we must have since Lisa’s holding the proof in her hands. But how is that possible?

As the memories of that day unfold in my head, I realize we must have filmed a lot more than I thought we had. Which makes sense, really. Until that day, I’d never stepped on a movie set. So I had no idea what to expect. Admittedly, all the sets, props, and costumes, were much like what I was used to seeing at the theaters, but this was a very different kind of ‘stage’. It was more 3-dimensional and had no place for an audience to sit. Instead, there were cameras and lighting that was different than what I was used to in the theaters I’d worked. In short, the whole thing was oddly familiar and very different at the same time.

After I finally caught my breath, and got my bearings, we got down to business. I spent the rest of the day paying attention to everything Roscoe and Al were telling me to do and how to play the scenes. Looking back, I realize now that a lot of the times I thought we were rehearsing, the camera was actually rolling. Plus, we were all having so much fun together it’s no wonder I didn’t realize how much of our antics were being caught on film. as well.

The chemistry between me, Roscoe and Al, had been so good to the few who had been on hand assisting with the filming, were making plans for more films involving the three of us before we had even finished. Upon hearing this, Roscoe, Al and I spent the rest of the night talking and celebrating, as we all looked forward to working together for years to come.

Alas, none of it came to pass.

You see, a few days later, Roscoe called me in to join him, Minta (his wife), their dog Luke, Al St. John and a few others, to show us some of the footage that had been shot. It had just come back from being processed and we were all eager to see how my performance turned out. It turned out to be a rather empty one.

The scene playing before us on the screen that day was one where Luke had grabbed me by the seat of my pants, making me spin wildly trying to dislodge him. But there was no sign of me on the screen. All we saw was Luke, his four paws completely off the ground, spinning round and round in mid-air.

It was then that I learned that ‘silver’ was used in the celluloid film, as well as a mirror inside the camera, which meant neither could ever capture my image.

We didn’t bother looking at the rest of the film. Or at least I didn’t. I was too heartbroken at the time, and so were Roscoe, Minta and Al. Heck, even Luke padded over to me and hopped up into my lap trying to comfort me. He was such a good dog.

After the initial shock had worn off, I spent a few days with my friends before I decided to head back to vaudeville. There, despite Roscoe and Minta’s urgings, I simply went back to being another stage-hand behind the scenes. Eventually, a quartet of brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo) took me under their collective wings. In time they taught me how to play a number of musical instruments and further developed my comedic skills and timing. Before I knew what was happening, they had me back on the stage to assist in their escapades. On occasion, I even stood in for each of them at one time or another, when that person couldn’t make the performance. Still, the sting of my failed attempt at becoming a film star never faded.

And even whenever I saw Roscoe, we never talked about the footage, so I simply assumed he’d destroyed it. But of course, he hadn’t.

I only found out it still existed shortly after Roscoe had passed away quietly in his sleep on June 29^th, 1933. After the funeral, Addie (his third wife) had asked to see me and that was when I learned the footage still existed. Why Roscoe had kept the footage all that time, even she didn’t know. However, according to his will, it was to be turned over to me upon his passing along with a few other bits of his estate.

Naturally I took charge of the cannisters and did everything I could to keep them safe. Why? Because the fact that Roscoe hadn’t destroyed them meant something. For whatever reason, he’d held onto that footage, so I felt obligated to preserve them.

In time, when film preservation efforts had reached a good point, I had them fully restored and copied, along with the other celluloid treasures here in my vault. Yet even then I hadn’t been able to bring myself to watch it. The ghosts of what ‘might have been’ has always been just a little too…

“So?” Lisa purrs in my ear just then, making me jump slightly. I was so wrapped up going down memory lane, I hadn’t noticed or even sensed her moving closer to me. “Are you going to tell us what’s on these reels?”

“Roscoe dealing with a ghost, obviously,” I reply casually, while trying to quiet my heart which is suddenly beating in double-time for some reason.

“And who played the ghost?” she persists sweetly.

“I did,” I answer with a bit of false bravado, “And for the record I was quite convincing.” Then add silently to myself, ‘A little too convincing actually.’ Again, I look down at the cannisters once more and frown. It was only supposed to be a screen test. And even if we shot that much footage, why would Roscoe not only save the footage, but give it a title?

“Because I never intended it to be just a screen test, you dope,” Roscoe’s voice murmurs in my other ear, making me jump once more.

I quickly glance to my right to see him resting his chin on my shoulder, while Lisa continues to do the same on my other shoulder. I briefly wonder with of them is the angel and which is the devil. That’s what usually happens in a case like this, right?

Mentally, I ask him, “What do you mean?”

“It was always supposed to be your first film, Nate. Your big break!” he smiles back.

Lisa suddenly inhales, which takes me by surprise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she had just heard what Roscoe said. But that’s impossible. This version of him has been formed from my memories. There’s no way she could have heard him.

Shaking my head, I decide to focus my attention on the cannisters once more.

Lisa quietly puts a hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Nathan?” she says, with a hint of worry in her tone.

But I barely notice, as a final piece of the puzzle drops into place for me. And without thinking I breathe, “Roscoe… you finished it?”

Stepping in front of me my old friend nods and gives me a huge smile. “Of course! The way you by me throughout all three trials, meant so much to me. But the fact that you were even willing to testify in my third trial in person and tell everyone that you were the one who found Virginia and then I stumbled in…”

“WAIT!” Lisa suddenly gasps and stares at me. “YOU were there at the party the night Virginia Rappe collapsed?”

Instantly, I do a double-take. She heard him? But how? I know she’s psychic and can see and even hear ghosts and…

Suddenly, I turn to back to my old friend whose smile has become even more broad than before as he says, “Boo!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Merry Christmas Eve...

It's Christmas Eve, so we're taking a quick break in our current story to bring you something different.

In the United Kingdom there is a tradition of telling a ghost or creepy story at this time of the year.

And since according to Ancestry.com based on my DNA sample, I am 49% Irish, plus another 22 % English, I feel it only right to continue this tradition.

So, we're bringing you the audio version of "The Snowman", complete with imagery, providing a picture book experience, much like I did last year with my unabridged presentation of Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol".

As many of you will remember, "The Snowman" was written by my wife/co-author Helen for our "The Vampyre Blogs - One Day at a Time" anthology. It was inspired by hearing the song "Frosty the Snowman" one too many times, before deciding to put a bit of a strange unearthly (or Para-Earth-ly) twist on the story...

So without further ado, here is this year's Christmas story offering...

No doubt, you might be wondering about the opening stating the presentation came from the Library of the Obscure. For those wondering about that, you'll be seeing and learning more about the library starting next month, so stay tuned.

In the meantime, have a blessed and safe Christmas and hopefully a very wonderful New Year.

Love,

Allan and Helen

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS” - Part IV

 

Brian’s eyes find mine, and he smiles. “That’s why you were rushing into some of those burning buildings. You were trying to rescue these.”

“To be honest,” I explain, “I didn’t rush into burning buildings for all of them. A number of those I pulled out of garbage bins, or piles of films that were going to be set on fire. In those cases, I replaced the spools I took with extra copies of other movies, or even blank film so no one would notice they were missing.”

“Wait?” Lisa cries and gives me a puzzled look. “People were burning Roscoe’s films? Was it because of the trial?”

I nod.

“But he was declared innocent!” she protests, while a large man with a huge warm smile on his face quietly appears behind her.

I smile inwardly. It’s always good to see my old buddy, Roscoe.

“You are correct, my child,” Brian beams. “However, the verdict of innocence, came at the end of his third trial.” As he speaks, it’s clear that neither he nor Lisa seem to have taken notice of the famous silent film star, who is currently looking over their shoulders to see which films of his they were holding.

As you can already guess, the fact that they can’t see him comes as no surprise to me. After all, I happen to know Roscoe isn’t a ghost. He’s a mental ‘construct’, so to speak, created by my mind and based on our many years of friendship.

For those not aware, I literally remember everything I’ve ever experienced. Heck, I even have memories of being inside my own mother’s womb, if you can believe it.

And among that mountain of memories is every single person I’ve ever met. Some I met only on rare occasions, or even just once in passing. But I do remember them.

Others, like Roscoe (and a host of others I was really close to), I can remember in complete detail. I can recall their personalities, manner of speaking, all their habits, the works. It’s one of the many gifts my Sangui-Sapio companion has granted me.

And every so often, when I feel really lost or am simply missing one of them, that person will appear to me, just like now.

From my point of view, it’s like they’re in the room with me and we interact as if time had never separated us. I guess the best way to explain it is like having a film projector, in your head. And the film is being shown on a screen inside my eyes, complete with sound, so visually and audibly they appear to be in the same room I’m in. And as is the case right now, my old friends can stand or wander around and even react to any living people who also happen to be in the room. This means I also I get to privately enjoy my old friend’s reactions and antics. However, this occasionally winds up with me reacting and saying or doing things in front of my actual guests which leave them more than a little puzzled at times.

As I stated earlier, my existence tends to be a very strange one sometimes.

Anyhow, I presume my ongoing dilemma of what to run on opening night, and Lisa’s discovery of Roscoe’s ‘lost’ films, is what has generated this impromptu visitation from my old friend. Not that I mind. He may have been known mainly for his comic genius, but like Otto, he was always full of keen insights and good advice.

Meanwhile, Brian continues, “You see, my dear, the first two trials ended with hung juries.”

Immediately, Lisa smacks her forehead while saying, “Which means the accusation was hanging over his head for months.”

“And the newspapers, especially those owned by Randolph Hearst, were dragging his name through the mud the whole time,” Brian adds solemnly.

I watch Roscoe pull out a handkerchief and wipe his brow, muttering, “Pal, you don’t know the half of it.”

Quietly, I sympathize with my old friend. Not a lot of people knew what he went through, but I did. I was there for him the whole time, along with Buster, Roscoe’s nephew Al (St. John), plus a number of others. We all stood by him throughout all three trials. From the beginning to the end, when he was finally exonerated. Yet, in spite of that ruling, which was accompanied by a formal apology prepared by the jury and read out loud by the judge, it had already been too late. Roscoe’s reputation had been irreversibly trashed in the eyes of the public and Hollywood.

No sooner does that thought pass through my mind, Lisa cries out, “Hey, here’s one for the Halloween season. Fatty and the Ghost.”

Immediately, her father leans over to peek and exclaims, “I’ve never heard of that one. Maybe, it’s one of the films that never got to the screen because of the trial. That happened to several others he did. Although, as I recall, some of those did get shown overseas.”

Meanwhile, Lisa is shaking her head. “I don’t think so, dad. Look at the date. This was shot back in 1912, almost 10 years before the scandal.”

Roscoe, who has been looking over their shoulders the whole time, suddenly shoots a devilish smile me and says, “Are you going to tell them, or should I?”

I suppress a smile and explain to the other two, “Portions of that film were only ever shown to a select group of individuals. Namely, those who were involved in the making of it.”

Brian raises on eyebrow as he gives me a curious look. “Your tone of voice tells me you were one of those people who got to see it. May one ask how you were involved in the film?”

Pretending to examine my fingernails, I reply nonchalantly, “Oh, I didn’t do much, just co-starred in it.”

The looks of shock, surprise, and disbelief that flashed across both father and daughter’s faces, accompanied by a healthy dose of stammering and head shaking, prompted Roscoe to stand next to me saying, “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to have caught that all on film. These two would’ve been great in one my movies.”

“I taught them everything they know,” I murmur quietly back at him.

“Yeah, right,” he laughs. “You forget, I’ve seen how many times Lisa has run rings around you. She’s made a monkey out of you so many times, you could audition for the next ‘Planet of the Apes’ movie.”

Now, Roscoe left this world back in 1933. So, the fact he is now making references to movies that were made decades after he passed, were one of those little details that helped me figure out long ago that he (and a number of my other acquaintances from across the years) was a construct made up from my memories.

Or at least that’s what I’ve always told myself. Tonight, however, I was about to find out that there are still more things in heaven and earth than I ever dreamed possible.

E-Journal of Nathanlie Eoghan Steward October 11, 2018 “GHOSTS”

Staring at the empty auditorium, I can’t help but marvel at just how well the restoration of the place has turned out. The gilded wall sconces illuminating the art deco walls and the high arched ceiling and its wondrous art, which draws the eye upwards. It really makes a person feel like they somehow stepped back in time. It’s all, just as I remembered it.

Of course, no one here in Pointer would remember just how majestic this old movie palace had been in its heyday back in the early 1900's. Most would remember it from the 1970's, run down and badly faded. It had closed once and for all during the great recession of 1975. It came into my possession in 1977, although I only learned about it two years ago.*

And ever since then I had gone to great efforts to restore the place to its former glory.

Naturally, there had been several ‘complications’ for the crew during the restoration process. For instance, the question of what the original seat covers looked like had become a real issue. You see, over the years, damaged seats had been reupholstered with whatever material was available at that time. So, when the crew began tackling the seats, they quickly discovered that practically no two seats were exactly alike to guide them. And what was visible had faded badly with age.

The same held true for the wallpaper in different locations of the building. Luckily, I knew and was able to help on those fronts. Of course, there was the odd question about how I could be so sure about my choices. After all, there were no colored photos of the place back in the 1910’s and 1920’s, which was the time frame I was aiming for. But I was able to show them descriptions from old handbills, and diary entries from local historians (thank you Brian). Plus, I had done a painting or two of the old theater back in its heyday, which I was able to show the crew (while carefully obscuring the signature of the artist at the same time).

         But now all was ready. The auditorium, the balcony, the crying room, the catwalks, the lighting, the proscenium arch looming tall and majestic over the stage, while a red velvet curtain shielded a huge drop-down screen from view. And behind that screen, a full working stage perfect for live performances, for both theatrical and music, stood ready for action.

Behind and slightly above my head, loomed a mezzanine, with a fully restored crying room off to one side, where parents with fussing infants could enjoy the entertainment without fear of disturbing other patrons. Next to that, hidden behind an ornate wall, stood a fully operational projection room prepped with both the latest in technology, as well as fully restored older projectors, all ready for action.

Outside the auditorium, hallways glistened with art and mirrors, while colorful carpeting beckoned patrons to explore the premises. Beyond that stood the lobby area, along with the original concession stand, all fully restored to their original splendor, complete with a crystal chandelier overhead.

And of course, just beyond ornate doors, a gleaming ticket booth stood, under the protective cover of a huge marquee, surrounded by lights. Across that marquee, in huge black letters, was the proclamation “Opening Soon”.

"I see the sign still hasn’t changed yet,” a voice says from behind, interrupting my train of thought.

Before I can turn to address the speaker, a second voice, a young woman’s to be precise, adds, “It’s been saying that for almost two months, ever since the renovations were finished. So, what’s the holdup?”

I know both those voices, especially the second one. After all, my dearest Lisa spends more time at my mansion than she does at home. Or at least it seems that way sometimes.

Turning to face her and Brian (her father), I answer dryly, “The management has been encountering unforeseen difficulties, which must be overcome before this wonderful place can be opened. Furthermore, management, knowing the public has very high expectations for what kind of experience this facility will provide the community, are even now diligently struggling to resolve these issues as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, much of their time is being taken up by fielding repetitive and inane questions from uninvited visitors.”

I fully expect Lisa to have some equally witty comeback, but her father beats her to the punch. “Still can’t make up your mind on what film or films to present on opening night, eh?”

Rather than openly admitting that he is correct, I give him the most dignified response I can come up with at that moment. I blow a raspberry at him.

Brian, his smile emphasized by the old-fashion sideburns he had recently began sporting, turns to his daughter and says casually, “And that my dear, is the kind of maturity you can expect from your godfather, should you ever have the misfortune of ever having to live with him on a regular basis.”

To which Lisa cocks her head prettily and responds, “Well, then at least he’d have one mature person around to keep an eye on things.”

Considering she’s only 22, compared to my 171 years of existence, I am more than prepared to differ. However, upon thinking back on some of the many adventures with Para-Earths and other strange encounters she’s experienced over time with me and Otto, she may have a point. So, I do the most grownup thing I can think of, I blow a raspberry at her as well. 

Okay, maybe there is some validity to her remark about my maturity. But there’s no way in hell, I’m about to admit it. At least not out loud.

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Author's Note: this event will be covered in "The Vampyre Blogs - Family Ties" novel which is still being written at the time of this post.*