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Showing posts with label #vampire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #vampire. Show all posts

Sunday, October 10, 2021

E-Journal of Nathaniel Eoghan Steward - October 23rd, 2019 "Red Fang" - Part II

Upon reaching the bottom of the steps I could hear Otto, Penny, Richard and Isabella in the study laughing about something on the internet.

“Well that certainly makes a change from Abominable Snowman sightings,” Richard was saying.

“Maybe it’s a Wendigo?” I heard my sister chime in, “They travel with the snow!”

“True, but I have never heard of one that far north,” Otto’s gentle bass voice pointed out.

Intrigued, I did a 180 and headed for the study instead of the kitchen. Coffee could wait, this was sounding interesting.


Upon entering the study, I saw that they were all gathered around the computer on the big desk where I work on my novels. There are two computer monitors, which makes it easier for me to do research on one while I work on my story on the other. At this point though they had the story on only one screen and their heads were all in the way, so I couldn’t see what they were looking at.

As I strained to look over their heads, Penny suddenly said, “You’re up early, Nathan.”

I did a doubletake. She hadn’t even turned around to look at me. And I know I didn’t cast a reflection on either monitor. I swear the woman has developed some kind of “Mom Radar” ever since she gave birth to her son Richie Jr. four years ago.

Then again it may just be a survival tactic she developed growing up in Detroit. She doesn’t like to talk about her childhood. But one time she did tell me you needed to have eyes all over your head to survive not only the neighborhood, but the apartment building you lived in too.

Before I could respond to Penny’s observation Isabella spoke up again. “Lisa’s visiting some museums over in Charleston for one the college classes she’s taking, and Marisa’s travelling with our carnival friends. He doesn’t have any reason to be tired enough to stay in bed.”

At that point Otto looked at me and waggled his bushy eyebrows at me saying, “You poor boy.”


Ignoring these little jibes at my expense, I finally got to see what was on the screen. It was clear from the headline what movie they got their inspiration from. 

“An American Werewolf in Alaska?” I read aloud incredulously.

“I know,” cried Penny turning to me. “Alaska has been part of the United States for decades, so of course any werewolf that turns up there is going to be American."

“I would have gone with ‘Red Fang’ myself,” added Otto.

I stared blankly at him for a moment, which earned me an eyeroll from my oldest friend.

“What?” I cried, wondering what I’d done this time.

Richard came to my aid. “He’s making a joke off of the title ‘White Fang’. You know, the novel by Jack London that takes place in Alaska?”

“Never mind, Richard,” Otto told him, “Apparently, he doesn’t read modern books.”

“Modern!” I exclaimed, “That was written in 1906. If that’s modern, what do you consider ‘classic’?”


Otto simply shrugged, “The Bible, the Vedas, Ovid’s Metamorphases...”

“The Dead Sea Scrolls, anything you were able to check out of the Library of Alexandria…,” I supplied helpfully.

“I wish,” he sighed.

Laughing I excused myself and went to get some coffee. Otto is way older than me, yet in spite of our being friends for the last 120+ years, I still don't know exactly how old he really is. Oh, he claims he's given me plenty of hints over time (which I know he has), it's just... I have a problem with numbers. It's called Dyscalculia, which is a kind of dyslexia only with numbers instead of letters, which throws my calculations off whenever I'm doing math. I barely passed my classes at the universities, which made me kind of blase when it comes to doing casual math problems, outside of research or for a class. 

Heading back to the study, I found only Otto and Isabella were still there. “Where’d Penny and Richard go?” I asked.

“To wake Little Richie up from his afternoon nap,” Isabella answered, then turned back to Otto asking, “If the creature is real, do you think it might be another Para-Earth incursion?”

“It’s possible, but none of my calculations predicted an opening taking place in that area recently,” he replied.

This piqued my curiosity and I slid into one of the chairs vacated by Penny and Richard, in order to check out the article. There were a few photos, but since they were taken at night, so the lighting was not great. 

Heck, I’ve seen photos of Bigfoot (which never do him justice, FYI) that were more recognizable. And that includes the fuzzy grainy shots like this one.

Turning to my old friend I asked, “Otto? What did you mean when you said you’d have called this article ‘Red Fang’?”

“Well, if you read the article, you'll find out,” he replied curiously.

Obediently, I did as he instructed. The description of the creature varied somewhat from witness to witness. However, they all agreed it looked humanoid with tufts of hair on its back and misshapen limbs. According to those who got a better look at it, one or more of the creature’s limbs was longer than the rest, which made it hard for the thing to get around. Perhaps that was why it seemed to vary running on two limbs and then all four. However it was only towards the end of the article that two people described the creature’s coloring not as reddish, but red. Almost blood red, to be specific. Looking back to the title of the article, I saw that the encounter had taken place on the outskirts of Fairbanks.

I suddenly found myself thinking back to the dream, and now an uneasy feeling was sweeping over me.

As if knowing my thoughts, Otto observed casually, “Of course, the creature could have made a kill and was simply covered in the blood of its victim.”

I shook my head. A century and a half on this, and a number of Para-Earths, has taught me that if something seems ‘sus’, then it probably is.

Just then Isabella said, “The article said this wasn't the first sighting of the creature. There have been reports of a red wolf type of creature being spotted as far back as April. You were in Alaska back in January? Did you see the creature while you were there?”

At that moment I remembered a particular incident that had happened during my visit. “I think, I might have…” I replied.


TO BE CONTINUED...




Friday, October 1, 2021

E-Journal of Nathaniel Eoghan Steward - October 23rd, 2019 "Red Fang" - Part I

 


Woke up this afternoon in my bed… yes, I do sleep in a real bed, believe or not. In fact I do it quite often. I only sleep in the ground when my body needs certain nutrients that can only be found in the soil.

I’ll sometimes wake up to find my little sister Isabella curled up next to me. She has her own room and bed of course. When mom and dad were still alive (back in the 1860s) she used to sleep with them on cold nights or when she was feeling poorly (which was fairly often after her bout with Scarlet Fever) in their room, which is now mine. And of course, since we’re the only actual family each other has these days, I don’t mind having her with me on those nights when she’s missing them. I can’t blame her. Even after one hundred and sixty years wandering this Earth, I still miss them myself. So having her share my bed once in a while can be a great comfort for both of us.

Anyway, from the looks of my sheets and blankets, it’s a good thing she hadn't joined me. Oh, they weren’t torn or anything, they were just all over the place, as if I’d had a very restless sleep. Mind you, I felt well rested. Which is surprising since I did have some rather active dreams. I was back in Alaska, out on the tundra with the stars and the northern lights above, and a pack of wolves all around me.

This is nothing unusual. Whenever I go up there, I usually head for the woods and take one of my animal forms and roam the land. It’s one of the few times I can just let loose with my powers and experience nature in ways no human being can really appreciate. I enjoy the enhanced senses of my nature forms and experiencing the world as they do.

And one of those forms I take is that of a wolf. Whenever I take this form, I like to seek out a pack to run with. When I find one, I’ll use of the greenish mist I can exude and allow them to ‘breathe me in’ so to speak. Once they do, I have access to their minds to a degree and can ease any misgivings they have of my presence and can even get them to let me join them for a few nights. We’ll huddle together, roam, and even hunt.



I rather enjoy those hunts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a cold-blooded killer or anything like that. It’s just that my Sangui-Sapio half (the slime mold-like creature that fused with me in the Para-Earth I landed up in so many years ago) had bonded with a number of other life forms in that reality long before it found me.

Now, in addition to giving me my vampire-like abilities and needs, it also gave me incredible recall of all the things I’ve ever experienced in my life. People, places, events, you name it. I have perfect recall of all of it. Even little things I glimpsed ever-so-briefly, or heard in passing, I can remember as clear as day. But I don’t just have access to my own memories, I also have access to the Sangui-Sapio’s memories which includes those of the other creatures it had fused with before we met.

While this might sound as if my head should be pretty crowded, or that I might have a hard time holding onto my identity with all those memories, I don’t. I’m the most complex being the Sangui-Sapio has ever bonded with before, and I have such a sense of self that it isn’t a problem. Furthermore, my other half makes sure it doesn’t let itself or those other memories try to ‘take over’. Our relationship is very equitable.

However, I do sometimes get cravings to explore my… I guess you would call it, more primal side. Which is part of the reason why I head to places like Alaska, Norway, the Black Forest of Germany or any other place remote with woods and open spaces.

Last night I dreamed about being on a hunt with a pack of wolves I met earlier this year. I’d spent New Year’s Eve up in Fairbanks Alaska to welcome the new year with some old friends. On New Year’s Day I bid them goodbye and headed into the Boreal Forest where I could cut loose a bit. As I hoped, I eventually encountered a pack of wolves. After the usual sizing each other up and exuding my mist, we became quite close and I wound up spending an entire week with them. I was almost sorry to leave. Maybe that’s why I dreamed about them.


Anyway, in my dream we were on the hunt once more, but for some reason there was a nervous tension in the pack. And as much I hate to say it, this feeling seemed to be directed at me. There was no outright hostility, but I was noticing how some of the pack kept eyeing me or moving slightly away as we ran. Sadly, I couldn’t blame them. Even I could tell something was off about me, but before I could really figure out what it was, the scene changed. I found myself alone and on the outskirts of a town and being shot at by some of the townsfolk. I was still in wolf form at the time, which in and of itself was weird because I never go where there’s people when I’m shapeshifted. Yet it felt like I was having trouble keeping my form. I could feel my limbs stretching at times, throwing my balance off as I ran.

I kept calling out to the pack as I ran. I could sense they were nearby, yet none of them answered. Eventually, I finally spotted them way off in the distance, but I could tell they were not happy to see me. They weren’t exactly hostile, but they weren’t welcoming either. If anything, they seemed frightened and confused… then I woke up.

It’s weird. I’ve dreamt of the pack a few times in the last couple of months, which is something I’ve never done before.


After dismissing the dream, I fixed my bed, changed clothes, and left my bedroom. I noticed the clock in the hallway and saw it was mid-afternoon. Risking a quick peek out one of the windows near the stairwell, I saw it looked like rain was coming. That made me smile. I wouldn’t have to contend with the sun or load up on extra blood. I might even be able to head outside for a while. The estate, which is just over a thousand acres, contains swaths of virgin woods that have never known the blade of an axe. Maybe the dream was simply my brain’s way of telling me I needed to get out a bit and enjoy the ‘nice’ weather.

With that thought in mind, I headed down the stairs with a little bounce in my step.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sunday, September 26, 2021

News and a New Tale Coming Soon...

Hello everyone, I hope you've been enjoying the stories shared here for the past few months, even if they are re-runs so to speak. Still, I'm hoping that they have been new to a number of our visitors. 

I'm popping in today to give you all a heads up as to what's been happening for me. I've been going through procedures for a back and leg problem, and have another one scheduled for tomorrow. Hopefully this one might be the 'silver bullet' that corrects the problem. If not, then the doctors are going to have to look into some more invasive procedure options to alleviate the pain which should then allow me to return to work and being more mobile.

In the meantime, I have just about wrapped up my "A Christmas Carol" project, which will be made available to all for free over on YouTube. This will be an unabridged reading of Mr. Dickens classic tale, complete with images from Wikimedia and other public domain sites. The only thing I have left to do for each chapter is record an opening and closing where I will be discussing the novella as well as the importance of Mr. Dickens work at the time of its release. I'll also be briefly exploring themes and why ghost stories were associated with Christmas even before the novella was ever created.

In the meantime, we have another spooky holiday coming up next month and in celebration of the season I wanted to let you all know that I am preparing a werewolf story involving Nathan and Marisa in Alaska.

So I hope you'll keep visiting this site as my goal is to get the tale written within the next week or two while I recover from tomorrow's procedure. My intention is to have the entire story written and then break it up into as many installments for this blog, with the finale being released on October 30th.

Until next time, take care and stay safe everyone.


Friday, September 17, 2021

Nathaniel's E-Journal May 2007 - I'm Now A Published Author

 As I sit here typing my mind is still in a whirl.  The idea that something I've written is actually getting published seems unreal.  Then again a lot of things I've done in my long life feel that way.



The first time I stepped out onto a stage in vaudeville to play a part in one of the Marx Brothers routines I felt the same way.  I'd been helping out in their rehearsals and knew the routine by heart, so when Gummo wasn't able to appear with his brothers one night, I was drafted then and there.  I'm proud to say that I did not suffer stage fright, but that was mostly because I had Julius, Arthur and Leonard with me.  I knew they had my back and I wasn't about to let them down.  In a way, it was like being back in the Union Army, where I knew I had a bunch of guys watching out for me just as much as I was keeping an eye out for them.  When we finished our routine they made sure I took a bow with them.  After that I started finding myself on stage a number of times with some of the other acts who knew me pretty well.

But I digress.  As my second semester taking writing classes was drawing to a close, one of my instructors urged me to try and submit a few of my short stories to a few magazines for publication.  This was in March and I trusted my instructor's judgement and with their help I prepared a cover letter, synopsis and a sample of one of my stories.  Needless to say the results were pretty much what I half expected...


Not to say I wasn't a little hurt, but my instructor was like, "Good, now you're really on your way to being an author."  Needless to say I gave her a very curious look, but nodded and kept trying.  Within weeks the responses, or rather more rejections, came rolling in...


Yet in spite of this, Brian, his family, fellow students, and even other members of the English and Literature faculty kept urging me on.  So I kept at it.  Finally, yesterday, I got a response from of all magazines Playboy, who wanted to publish one of my stories. It was one I submitted on a whim to their college fiction contest last year.  I didn't win mind you, but one of the editors kept it on file because he thought it was really good.  

In any case, somehow they were looking to fill space and he remembered my story and contacted me saying they wanted to run it.  Naturally I said yes so next month, my first published short story will be coming out in Playboy Magazine.  I'm hoping the readers like it, or at least those who read Playboy for the articles, all of two of them.

Still, to have my first published story appear in a magazine of that caliber is an honor.  I'm hoping it will help springboard me into other publications or at least get my name out there.  Or rather my pseudonym Daniel Bachmann.  Bachmann was my mother's maiden name and Daniel was my grandfather's name.   Too many people out there know or heard of Nathaniel Steward over the last few decades who don't know my secret.  So a fake name just seemed more appropriate on this occasion.

So my first published work will be sandwiched somewhere in between naked women and... now I'm jealous.  Time to head out and enjoy some nightlife.  I hear there's plenty of great places here in London, and the lights at night are beautiful.  Who knows, I might get an idea for a few more stories.  Yup... I'm a writer all right.  Always thinking about the next tale.

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Nathaniel's Private E-Journal - August 2005 : "Beginning A New Chapter..."

 


Summer in West Virginia hasn't changed all that much in a hundred and fifty years and tonight is no exception.  It hit the upper 80's which in and of itself isn't so bad, but the humidity makes it feel much worse.  Brian and his family are out of town, so I spent part of the evening with Jack, the town's physician, and his family.  They know my secret and have kept it to themselves for the past one hundred and twenty years.  It was nice spending time with his mother and grandmother.  As much as time has passed I still see them both as little girls who I used to take up into the evening sky on a warm summer night.  

But only when the sky was clear.  Tonight there are clouds overhead so I can't even enjoy the stars.  I'd have spent the rest of the evening with Jack and his family, but they were hosting a party with others from out of town and I didn't want some of our conversations overheard, so I left early and headed to The Crypt.

One of the nice things about having a private club that's located in the basement level of an old building is that it doesn't get too hot down there and I'm not the only one who knows this fact.  Even before I turned down the alley and reached the stairs that led down into my club, I could hear the music playing, accompanied by laughter and cheering.  

 


Upon opening the door I find the room is full bodies gyrating to the latest hit tunes my new disc jockey is playing.  He goes by the name of Scar-Man due to on old wound that runs from his forehead and across his face.  Thank God I got to him in time, otherwise it could've been a lot worse.  I've offered to help him get it fixed but he always refuses.  "I need to remember where I've been... so I don't forget where I'm goin'," he always tells me, so I leave it at that.

He spots me from across the room and gives me a questioning look.  Some nights I like to make a grand entrance, other times I don't.  Tonight is one of the latter.  Instead I find myself in a reflective mood and give a little shake to my head.  He nods and keeps the party going.

I quietly make my way through the crowd in my own unique way.  I pass between bodies that only a fly could navigate without anyone noticing.  Soon I've reached a dark quiet corner of the room where I can observe without being noticed.  There is a table here and I settle in and let my eyes roam.  Oddly enough they fall upon one of the old vaudeville posters I have lining my wall.  My mind begins thinking about how things were back in the 1910's and the 1920's.  Without realizing it, my eyes swing back to the crowd on the dance floor and I see something wondrous.  My eyes are clearly seeing the young people moving back and forth, flirting, and kissing and having a wonderful time.  Yet in the same moment in my mind I'm seeing another image super-imposed over them.  I see uniforms from bygone eras.  One moment I see the Union blue, then the brown ones we wore back in World War I, in another instant I'm seeing the dresses become flapper style, while the young men are decked out in the old Zoot suits.


The styles continue to change, yet the emotions and feelings are still the same as I watch the figures both before me and in my memories.  Something stirs within me as I stare.  Soon I leave my little corner of the club and head upstairs.  Normally, I'd take the actual stairs themselves, but tonight I take my 'mist' form and head upwards until I reach the door that leads to my art studio and slip through the open transom above it.

Once inside my artistic sanctuary I solidify and stare around at my surroundings.  Canvasses, both finished and still under way, line the floor and walls.  

  


I soon find myself studying each one intently.  My mind begins to think back to when I created each one and the story that led to their creation.  But more than just the stories return, so do the emotions that inspired the imagery.  Before long I find myself exploring where those stories and feelings began which culminated in these artworks.  I've often heard people say, "I wonder what the story is behind this art piece..."   Well, I know each and every story behind my works.  Some of them are simple, others could fill page upon page of a number of books.  

"And I'm the only one who still knows most of them..." I murmur to myself as new thoughts enter my mind.  "Do I dare..." I whisper to the silence that surrounds me.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Thursday, July 1, 2021

"Visiting My Family" E-Journal of Nathaniel Eoghan Steward - January 4th, 2005

 It's been two days since my last entry.  I had expected copying the letter I'd left Isabella to be hard, but not like that.  I should have known better.  Father told me in one of his letters that Isabella had kept my note on her nightstand to look at every night before she went to bed.  I had made her a promise that she had hoped I'd be able to keep, in spite of all the news that came back from the front lines.  I had always been able to keep my promises to her.  No matter what the odds were, I always found a way to fulfill them.  Which was probably why she was still clutching it in her hand that December night when... 


I'm getting ahead of myself again.  There are more letters and journal entries that must be copied and saved, but not tonight.  Something happened after I left here the other night, that I need to follow up on. 

You see, after Brian took the letter away to clean it, I left and began wandering the streets.  I don't even remember what I saw or whether or not I passed anyone as I walked.  I just had to keep moving.  At times I ran, even though there was no one chasing me.  It was foolish of course, one cannot can run from memories of guilt, pain, or loss.  Especially not when you've had a hundred and fifty years to accumulate them, and God knows how many more decades ahead to add to them.

Probably that was what my brain was telling me when I finally came to a halt.  Back when I still had a breath to catch, I'd probably have been bent over trying to do just that.  But not these days.  Instead, I simply stood there taking in my surroundings, trying to figure out where I was.  Imagine my lack of surprise when I realized I was standing in front of my old homestead.  Perhaps the old saying you can't run away from the past is more accurate than we think.


I stood there for several minutes staring up at the old manor.  Time had not been kind to it.  Probably because no one has lived in it since the 1970's, when the last of a series of relations tried inhabiting the place passed away.  After she passed on there was no one else to take over the place, so it became another forgotten edifice from a bygone era.  I could have come forward to try and claim the place, but there would be awkward questions about my lineage,  Especially since I'd had myself declared among the fallen back at Gettysburg during the Civil War.  But that's another story.

Anyway, I felt compelled to enter the old grounds.  I did not go inside the building itself, I rarely do these days.  Maybe it's seeing how time has and has not touched the interior.  Oh, the wallpaper has faded and peeled in many places.  Yet, a lot of the furnishings are still there, untouched, preserved by yellowed sheets that have accumulated layers of dust.  On the shelves sit figurines and books, untouched and forgotten.  As if waiting for someone to brush away the cobwebs and clean them off to they can be admired once again.




The portraits still hang in the gallery beneath dust cloths, their colors preserved and vibrant thanks to being spared and denied the light. Forgotten and unappreciated works of art by some of the most skilled painters of their time.

Why has no one ever gone inside and tried to steal any of the these forgotten treasures, I do not know.  Perhaps, some of the rumors of the place being haunted have a ring to truth to them?  I wouldn't put it past some of my 'nephews and nieces' to have come up with story of the place being inhabited by spirits.  They probably even played a few tricks to help reinforce the idea.  Heaven knows the number of times they've begged me to claim my old homestead and live here permanently, so I can be close to them.  Generation after generation have made this plea, and I always refuse.

Not that the idea isn't tempting.  But as I pointed out in my last entry, the longer I stay in one place, eventually tongues wag and trouble follows.  I couldn't bear the idea of the place and all the things within, being destroyed.  I know time will eventually take its final toll, which is why I helped Brian's father create the museum forty years ago.  My goal was to slowly remove the more valuable and treasured items from here and transfer them into the museum for safe-keeping.  Yet, every time I go inside the old place, I cannot bring myself to remove even a simple knick-knack.  It always feels like someone is glaring down at me with disapproval.

I did not enter the house, that night.  Instead I walked the overgrown path towards the family plot which sits a back in the trees behind the house.  There was once a little chapel as well, but that fell during the 'Night of Fire', along with my parents and our servants.  Again, another story, for another time.

The family plot is surrounded by a wrought iron fence which is only a few years old.  The original had long fell into disrepair and I'd had it replaced, with a new one that still had the old world look to it.  Oddly enough, the new gate creaked like its predecessor.  I could have had it fixed, but the sound seemed appropriate somehow.


So when I heard it groaning in the distance I new we had visitors.  Normally, it would be one of my extended family, but not at three in the morning.  Besides, I'd already caught a whiff of smoke in the air.  No, these were most likely unwelcome guests.  And as the only liv... still walking member of the household, it was up to me to greet them.

My footsteps become silent, even thought I'm walking over layers of dried leaves from autumns long past.  Not only do I make no sound, there are no imprints to mark my passing.  I'm still not sure how I manage this little trick, it just seems to happen whenever I go into stealth mode.  Even after one hundred and fifty years, there are questions I have yet to answer about my condition.

I turn the corner and see three figures entering my family's resting place.  Young would-be toughs.  I've seen countless numbers of them over the years.  The costumes may change, but the attitudes and arrogance is always the same.  I'm tempted to wait and get an idea of what kind of mischief they intend to get up to.  But I already hear the rattle of a spray paint can coming from one of their pockets, while another starts brandishing a crowbar.  The third kicks an old white stone I know so well.  It belonged to William, our butler.  It strikes me as disrespectful to see someone of African descent violating the grave of one of his own kind.

I decide to make my presence known.  "If you're not here to pay your respects, I suggest you take yourselves elsewhere and find some other form of enjoyment," I say loudly.

I won't bother repeating the profanity they shoot in my direction.  Needless to say, it was followed with threats against my person if I didn't start running.  Naturally, I did not retreat.  I merely stood my ground and repeated my request in the form of a warning this time.

The one with crowbar was the first to start walking towards me.  He was white, about sixteen, with all the swagger and arrogance of someone who'd watched way too many 'Gangsta' films.  I kind of felt sorry for him, which is probably why I didn't kick the living shit out him like I wanted.  Yes, I do curse and swear with the best of them.  However, I was also raised to be a gentleman and as such I refrain from using unnecessary violence when a simple scare can be far more effective.

He was about  twenty feet from me when I smile at him, put my hands in my pocket, and then and look down at the bottom of the jacket I'm wearing.  It goes all the way to the ground, similar to the style of coats back in my day.  It's a style I've always been partial to and have kept using throughout the years.  Though I make sure the cut and collar are always in keeping with whatever the 'modern day' trends are of the time.

In this case, my coat has what's called a Mandarin or Banded collar, which I leave unbuttoned as is the custom these days.

I glance up at him and smile.  This enrages him and he gets even more angry, which pleases me.  Anger can be your worst enemy sometimes.  While it may give you an adrenaline rush and maybe add a bit more to your punches, it can also make you careless.   He obviously has not noticed the movement taking place at my feet.

He soon does though.  The first dog head slips out from beneath my coat when he's just ten feet away and growls.  That catches his attention.

It throws him for a second and then he laughs, "Oh you got a dog, huh?  You think he's going to stop me from cracking your fucking skull open?  You a dead man, you here me?"

Then the second head emerges from the folds of cloth at my feet.  His blustering begins to waiver as the two hounds emerge.  Both are black with heads the size of  beachballs, with bodies to match.  I decide then to make their eyes glow red, a little something I picked up from the countless movies I've seen over the years.  It may seem trite, but the effect they have are always impressive.

As he takes his first few steps backwards, I can see his friends coming out of the gate looking worried.  There's just something about seeing something that looks like a Pitbull, but is the size of a Great Dane that is really off putting to people.

Tough guy yells as the first dog lunges for him.  He takes a step back and tries to hit it with the crowbar.  He connects and the dog's head splits in two.  For a moment he thinks he's won, then realizes that each half is now shaping and becoming whole.  Now he's dealing with an angry two-headed beast.

Unfortunately, I can smell the urine running down his legs as he screams like a girl and flees.  His buddies are already far ahead of him, chased by the second hound which had silently shot past Mr. Crowbar before he could blink.

Once I'm satisfied that they've had enough I retract my pets.  I've not moved an inch from where I'm standing, with good reason.  Thanks to the darkness, none of the trio noticed the long black lines stretching  from beneath my coat, across the ground and all the way to where the dogs should have hind quarters.  As the canine figures distort and stretch back beneath my coat, I sigh.  I could've easily shape-shifted into the form of a huge wolf, but that would start rumors.  And as you know I abhor those.

After my 'pets' are back in their proper place and I can feel my legs again, I enter the family plot and right the headstone.  I'm relieved to see that it hasn't broken, or even cracked.  I was worried, considering its the original stone and fragile.  Eventually, I'll have to replace it, but not yet.  Maybe in another few decades, but for now it's still quite legible and beautiful in a weathered sort of way.

I check on the other graves, none of them were harmed.  I got here just in time.  But the flowers have been trampled, plus there are a few looking rather wilted.  I know what needs to be done.  As sacrilegious as it sounds, I slowly walk over each grave.  As the tails of my coat pass over them, the flowers are looking strong and healthy once more.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I take a final look around.  There's no one near. I can even hear the trio still running, they're at least a mile and half away.  Good.

I knew they wouldn't be back, but I checked on things last night and stayed in the shadows until I sensed the dawn coming.  I intend to do the same tonight.  Brian is insisting on coming with me this time.  He wants to keep me company and go over some of the other letters I have to transcribe.  I think he's going to bring his laptop with him in case the mood to type strikes me.

If he offers to do it for me I'll decline.  Those letters and journal pages tell just a part of the story, only I can fill in the other sections.  No matter how hard or difficult I may find it at times, it needs to be done.

I can see it's almost nine now, I've been here for over an hour already and Brian is looking antsy.  He wants to read what I've typed, which I will let him do.  He's a good man, just like his father and grandfather and so on all the way back to his great-great-great grandfather, the first Brian Weston.  Or rather I should say Captain Weston, hero, and childhood friend.

I'll probably speak more of him in my next entry, since the next letters will begin mentioning my military service.

Good night.

Friday, May 7, 2021

Nathaniel's Blog January 7th, 2014 "A Night At The Crypt"

First off, a note from the author. Due to health issues (back problems with a pinched nerve) and being very busy with recording and editing audios (which will soon include short stories involving Nathan and company), I haven't been as productive on the story front. Aside from trying to focus on the next book in this series "The Vampyre Blogs - Family Ties", and "The Door", I'm limited in what I can do at this time. So for the next few months there will be re-posts of some of the earliest stories about Nathan and friends. However, I will also be posting to sneak peeks into TVB - Family Ties as well. So please enjoy this tale from seven years ago (wow, it's really been that long since I started some of these - I'm amazed).  Any happy reading and stay safe everyone...

At The Crypt...


Brian talked me into taking the night off from transcribing more letters, and going to my dance club.  It's an older building.  One of many I purchased during the Depression.  Like many I felt the pinch of the stock market collapse, but I wasn't destroyed by it.  I lost a fair amount mind you, but I never kept all my eggs in one basket.  For one thing gold never goes out of style, no matter how bad things get.  Nor do diamonds and other fine jewels.  Plus I had investments that did not suffer, especially those overseas.

Not that I've had to worry about money for some time.  I don't have as many needs to spend money on, and I've had many jobs over the years which paid nicely.  What can I say, I like to keep busy doing things and learning new trades and skills.  It also helped that my first wife also left me quite well off.  Ah Madeline, even after 110 years I still miss her.  She was a wonderful woman and we enjoyed our time together.  Benjamin Franklin was quite right in his advice to a young man about being with an older woman, I learned so much from her.  Unfortunately, it also meant our time together was not nearly as long as I would've liked. 

These days however, I'm surrounded by younger women all the time.  Which is only natural.  It's hard to find someone your own age when you're a 167.  Many are in their teens, some in their twenties, with the occasional 30 or 40 year old as well.  I admire them all, but keep myself somewhat distant.  Sex is still quite enjoyable, even being what I am.  But I've learned to be careful about who I partner up with for the pleasure. 

But tonight, I'm just enjoying the company of the crowd itself.  Love watching excitement and pleasure they get from being in a place where everyone knows they're safe and can and enjoy themselves.




I've just finished running the turntables and turning them over to my main DJ "The Scar Man".  Former gang -banger I met a few years back.  He's a great guy and helps keep an eye out on  the younger crowd for me.  I prefer things being friendly around my place, not that there aren't the occasional upsets and punches thrown.  After all, a lot of my clientele are in their teens.  Hormones are running rampant, and status is oh so important.  

They mostly patrol themselves, because they know better than to have me intercede. If a weapon comes out, then I'm all over them before they know it.  God knows I've been stabbed by or even shot by accident more than once.  Most of the culprits freak out because they can't believe what they'd just done.  A rare few, don't care and even make another attempt to get past me.  They learn the hard way.  I make sure they never pull a weapon on anyone ever again, unless their own life or someone else's is at stake.  I try not to be stupid with my powers.   Not everyone is as long-lived or hard to kill as I am.

Tonight, I see trouble brewing but of the lesser kind.  

Over in one corner a boy named Teddy is asking the head cheerleader for a dance.  I've watched Teddy for a while.  He's not one of my nephews, but he's friends with a few.  He's a good kid, on the quiet side, not good at sports and certainly not a stoner.  So in short, a prime 'bully' target.  When he was younger, I heard he cried a lot when he got picked on which led to getting beat up.  Although others intervened on those occasions, he seemed to suffer more than one would expect from a few simple punches.  These days I think I know why.  And now I see the football's quarterback Cory coming over with a few of his buddies.

He grabs Teddy and gives him a body check that sends him into a couple of chairs.  Teddy hits the ground hard.  I pass through the crowd without their even realizing it.  Not one gyration or step is missed as I pass between the smallest of openings.

I'm standing before Cory and his friends before they can let out their first guffaw.  Their mouths clamp shut instantly.  I glance down at Teddy who is clenching his teeth in pain.  I can tell from here there's only going to be a bruise or two, but I know what's really going on.  I had it when I was a kid, only we didn't have a name for it back then.

Cory starts telling me that he'd warned Teddy about bothering Sherry, the cheerleader.  They're not actually dating, but he's one of those alpha males who thinks they are destined to be a couple.  Someone's been watching too many movies.

I nod and tell him he's not in trouble with me.  But I also point out that I know for a fact that he's been riding Ted since elementary school.  That's another benefit of being around for so long, you hear a lot of things. "While I'm glad you've channeled your more aggressive nature into sports, it doesn't give you free pass for tormenting those who are ill," I tell him.

He gives me an incredulous look.  "What are you talking about?  He's just a drama-queen who likes to have people feeling sorry for him," he shoots back.

Turning to Ted I ask, "How bad is your Fibromyalgia acting up today?  What are the pain levels like?"

The young man stares at me in shock.  "You know?"

I nod and say, "Of course I do.  Takes one to know one.  I had it back when I was a kid.  I suspect you have too."

"Yeah," he tells me and looks away.  "It's been this way my whole life.  They only diagnosed me with it two years ago.  Everyone kept telling me I was a crybaby, or a wimp who needed to toughen up.  My dad kept telling me I needed to be a man.  He never believed me until the doctor's told him what was wrong.  He still doesn't, but Mom does.  So do my sisters."

Behind me I hear one of Cory's crew muttering, "Shit!  My mom's got that."

I reach down and help Ted up onto a chair.  He hurts more than he's letting on, but I can sense it.  One of the other cheerleaders, comes over and sits down with us.  I remember her name is Tina.  She's one of the back-up cheerleaders.  She starts telling Ted that she knows where he's coming from and that she has it too.  Which is why she's a second-stringer.  Her ability to perform is erratic some days.

I leave them all to sort things out amongst themselves.  A few friendships may arise from this, even possibly a romantic relationship.  Mostly I'm hoping to see tolerance come from this encounter.  Invisible illnesses can be quite a difficult thing to contend with.  Both for the person suffering it, as well as for others to recognize.

My own father never fully recognized it in me, but I learned to hide it with time.  He wanted a son who was strong and able.  I did my best for years to live up to that expectation.  It was also one of the prime reasons I went to war, besides wanting to protect my friends.  I no longer feel those old pains at least not physically.  But I remember them as well as if they were still plaguing me.  I can't do anything for the physical pain, Ted is feeling, but at least I may have lessened some of the others he's known for so long.

I glance back once more.  Cory and most of his crew have moved on, but Tina is still with Ted.  They seem to be getting on pretty well.

Katy Perry's "Roar" is winding down, so I head over to the keyboard.  A little slow dance music seems to be in order.


Friday, March 19, 2021

Lisa's Private Thoughts, December 24th, 2017: "My Christmas Ghost Story" Part-VII Conclusion


It was hard trying to keep my eyes on Madeleine, while that all-too-familiar mist opened a secret panel in the shelves and deposited its bundle inside the compartment. Knowing Nathan was actually here in the room with me was reassuring, but worrying at the same time. He'd upset Madeleine last time so badly she'd turned violent and had gotten the better of him. I really didn't want to see a rematch and possibly get caught in the crossfire. So I needed to keep her attention totally fixed on me. 

Finally, I said with complete honesty, "I know what you're saying. I even sympathize, because I truly know how much pain you're in."

"Do you?" Madeleine asked politely. All too politely, if you know what I mean. Her eyes never left mine as she took a step closer. "Pray tell me, how do you know what I feel? Does your situation run along the same exact path as mine?"

"No," I replied with a sigh. "Although we both share the knowledge and anger from being told we have to wait, I've never resented my family to the point I'd resort to violence against any of them. And I certainly would never raise a hand against my younger brother... not even accidentally."

That made her pause and she nodded. "It was an accident," she murmured, "I never meant for him to fall back and..." she cut herself off and raised her eyes and I could see both the pain and anger in them. "If he had only told me where they were when I'd asked, it never would have happened?" she screamed.

I think she expected me to flinch or recoil, but I didn't. That look in her eyes had confirmed everything I needed to know. "How did it happen?" I asked gently.

Her eyes never left me, as if she dared not look past my shoulder where her younger brother stood just a few feet away. "I think you already know," she said evenly. 

"I know you had started out being nice to him, just the way you used to," I replied, not tearing my eyes away from hers, I could feel Nathan was behind me which was giving me courage. Only, then his presence began to fade, as if he were moving away and out of the room. What the hell was he playing at? I needed backup right, like right now! Meanwhile, I continued saying, "Then you began asking about your mother's jewelry, and when he refused to tell you where they were you began losing your temper and started shouting at him. Eventually, you grabbed him and were screaming at him... just how I found you when I burst into this room."

Madeleine's gave me a cold smile, "That's right, you're so right. It was exactly like that, only then I began shaking him and he started to pull away. Eventually, he struggled so hard I lost my grip and he fell backwards." Here her voice cracked and I could hear the pain in her voice. "He fell away too quickly for me to grab him and struck his head against the stonework of the fireplace."

A faraway look crept into her eyes. They were still locked with mine, but I knew she wasn't seeing me as she continued...

"He began to fall into the hearth itself. I barely had time to keep him from falling into the flames. But I did!" A mania had crept back into her voice as she grabbed my hand. "I did, and that's when he finally told me where they were... and I retrieved them. I finally had them and could join my Jonathan, but..." Now, her gaze slid away from me and over my shoulder. "But I couldn't leave my brother..." her voice started to become hard again, "He needed me. He was hurt. I couldn't leave him lying there on the floor, bleeding."

Her breathing became harsh along with her tone, as she continued. "If he'd only told me where they were when I first asked, none of it would have happened! And I'd have been able to get to my Jonathan outside, instead I stayed here... and then the door opened and... WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WHEN I ASKED?" 

Those last words and her glare were aimed at Reginald who was still behind me.

Turning, I saw the tears in his eyes as he stood there, not having moved a inch from where I'd left him when I'd come between them. 

In the background I could still hear the approach of the carriage, it was practically just outside. 

Madeleine heard it too and tried to push me out of the way, only I held her back. 

"TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE! I CAN'T REMEMBER!" she shrieked, struggling against me. "HE'S HERE! TELL ME SO I CAN GO WITH HIM REGINALD! YOU CAN COME WITH US, WE CAN LEAVE THIS PLACE TOGETHER AND FINALLY BE FREE!"

I had no idea how much longer I could hold her back and was about to tell Reginald to tell her what she wanted to know when I heard a familiar voice say, "Tell her, Reginald. It's the only way."

Both Madeleine and I froze for a second then I turned and looked over my shoulder. Nathan was standing in the doorway. His gaze was fixed on young boy behind me, who finally blinked, as if waking from a bad dream. Finally, the boy turned to Nathan and said, "Buy our Uncle told me..."

"I know," Nathan cut in gently. "But this is very important. Especially for her."

Reginald still looked uncertain but turned to his sister and said, "They're behind the panel in the bookcase behind you. The third shelf."

Madeleine looked stunned. "There's a room behind there?" she breathed. 

"No, just a compartment," Reginald told her, his lip trembling. He looked more scared than before to me, but I said nothing.

Meanwhile, Madeleine raced to the bookcase and began searching the third shelf until she found the panel and opened it. Immediately, she reached inside with a look of delight which quickly changed to confusion as she pulled out not only an old velvet bag, but the stack of papers I'd seen Nathan place in there moments ago. 



To my surprise, Madeleine put the velvet bag aside while staring at the papers. "They're calling to me..." she breathed and then started studying them more closely. "This handwriting, it's my Jonathan's. What are they doing in there? He only ever wrote to me. Are these my letters? No, they're something else... along with papers from my uncle. I don't understand."

I felt Nathan's hand on my shoulder as he drew next to me. On his other side, was Reginald, whom he had his other hand resting on. "Be ready to get behind me, this could turn ugly," Nathan told both of us, in a hushed voice. 

"What did you put in there?" I whispered at him.

"The truth," he murmured back. 

For the next five minutes Madeleine examined each page, some more than once, before finally raising her eyes to stare at us. "No!" she whispered in a ragged breath. "It's not true! It can't be! He loved me! He wanted to be with me... he'd never... These papers are all lies! Tell me none of this is true!"

This was directed at Nathan who sadly shook his head. 

For a second I thought she was about to attack us, but instead she nodded then fell to her knees. A moment later, she began pounding the floor, while sobbing hysterically. "Please tell me it isn't true..."

Nathan started forward, but I stopped him and shook my head firmly. "No, not you. The last thing she needs is a man telling her she'd been wrong." Then without another word, I walked over to Madeleine's shaking form and I knelt beside her. 

"You couldn't have known..." I began but she cut me off with a violent shake of her head.



"You're wrong. I'd been warned... I'd been warned by so many people. My father, my uncle, even several of my friends, but I wouldn't listen to any of them," she rasped and finally raised her head. "I'd only listen to him. He made me feel so special, like my opinion and beliefs mattered. He'd listen and tell what a tragedy it was that other's refused to see my wisdom or even listen to me."

I nodded, "That's how men like him work. They put you on a pedestal and make you believe you are the center of their world..."

Now it was her time to nod. "Exactly..." Now she turned her gaze to her younger brother, who had not left Nathan's side. "Did you know?"

Reginald nodded.

"What did our uncle tell you?" Madeleine asked gently.

"Only that I shouldn't tell you where mother's jewels were, because you'd leave and that Jonathan might do something bad to you," her brother replied in sad voice. 

"Oh God," Madeleine wailed, "You were trying to watch out for me and I... I..." Once more she buried her face in hands and doubled over sobbing uncontrollably.

This time she did not pull away when I reached out and held her close. In fact she returned the gesture and clung to me like a lost child. I spared a look over to Nathan who gave me a reassuring smile.  It was only after I started stroking her hair that she slowly began to calm down.

Once she found her voice she turned to Nathan and said, "Please, take Reginald with you when you leave. Let me remain here until the final day of Judgement. Let the place of my crime be my prison, my place of penance. Seal the door with mortar and stone, then cover the entrance so none will know this room exists. This way I will not disturb the residents and they can live in peace."

I shot Nathan a look to ask him what we should do, but Reginald was already rushing towards his sister and pulling her close. 

"No, I will not leave you," he told her earnestly, "If you stay, then so must I."

Madeleine shook her head, "No, Mother and Father have been waiting for you. I'm sure of it. You mustn't keep them waiting any longer."

"But they told me that when I became into my title I was always to take care of you. And I promised I would. So I cannot leave without you," he insisted, holding onto her even tighter. "We're family, and I love you." 

Outside I could here the carriage come to a halt. Getting up I went over to Nathan and whispered, "There's someone outside."

"I know," he assured me. "But it's not who you're expecting."

"How do you know?"

Instead of answering, he gestured to Reginal and his sister.

Madeleine was gazing at her brother in disbelief. "But I hurt you," she breathed, "I didn't meant to."

"I know," Reginald smiled and touched her cheek, "That's why I forgave you."

Madeleine looked stunned, "You did?"

"That he did, Miss," said Billings as he entered the room, dressed in the finery of a butler instead of a simple manservant. "I'm afraid you had already fled the room at the time, but he spoke those very words as I held him in my arms. I tried calling to you, but I'm afraid my entrance and poorly worded question had sent you into a panic. A terrible mistake on my part. And one that I've long regretted and have hoped to make amends for some time. "

My eyes had widened at that. HE had been the servant who'd found them that night. Then he was a ghost too! And, yes I'm still kicking myself for not realizing that sooner. 

Anyway, Billings continued, "I pray you can find in your heart to forgive me, both of you." 

"Of course," Madeleine told him, without hesitation. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were trapped here as well."

"Not trapped, Miss Madeleine," he corrected her gently, "The decision to stay was my own. The welfare of you both have always been my responsibility. And now, if you will both come with me, you're parents are waiting just out front."

This time I caught on before the siblings did. I turned to Nathan and whispered, "The carriage outside, it's their parents not her murderous suitor!"

He smiled and nodded.

I turned in time to see Madeleine and Reginald accepting Billing's extended hands and began to follow him out of the room. All three paused at the door to thank us and also with us a Happy Blessed Christmas. 



As soon as they left Nathan grabbed me by the hand and led me over to the window. Down below we could see the carriage. It was a fine looking vehicle, with four horses pawing at the snow covered ground, eager to be on their way. As Billings and his charges appeared, the door to the carriage swung open and a man and woman climbed out. After a warm embrace everyone, including Billings climbed back inside and the door was closed. A moment later, the coachman looked up at us in the window and gave us a salute. Then he snapped the reins and the carriage gently moved forward and disappeared into the snowy night.

"It's finally over," I heard Nathan sigh, "Thanks to you."

I shot him a look. "ME? More like US," I pointed out, then after a thinking about it for a moment I added, "Well, I guess I did actually deal with both of them more than you did."

"Yes you did," he admitted, much to my surprise. "I couldn't have done it without you. There was no way she was going to listen to me, or any man."

"So you did bring me here just to help with you," I accused, well I wasn't exactly angry, it was more like I wanted him to admit the truth to me.

He gave me a sheepish grin. "Let's say I was hoping to use your talents as a last resort. I really hadn't planned to bring you into things unless I really had to. I never expected trying to find that pile of papers was going to take as long as it did."

"Is that what you and his lordship been so occupied with ever since we arrived?" I asked, thinking about all those little private meetings they seemed to be having.

Nathan nodded. "He found out the papers existed but was having a devil of a time locating them. And in case you hadn't noticed, this place is HUGE. Not to mention there are a number of hidden corridors and secret compartments throughout the entire building. Although, at his point I think we now know where they all are... I think. Anyway, I only finally found them after I heard you tearing up the stairs and running down the hall tonight."

"So that was you I heard calling my name," I murmured.

He nodded. "I had hoped that Billings would get you out of here before things started happening up here..."

"Only I insisted on hearing the whole story after I ran into Reginald earlier this evening," I finished and then told him about the game of Sardines.

"I see," he nodded, "I should've known your abilities would get you caught up in things."

"Stop it, I'm not psychic," I insisted, then added, "Am I?"

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Oh, you are. Trust me, I've known a number of psychics. And so have you, Alex and Cassandra for instance."

"But I'm not anywhere near as strong as those them," I said looking away. I was really feeling embarrassed. I'd seen our friends do some incredible things with their talents, which I'd never be able to do.

Nathan laughed and put a finger under my chin and made me look at him. "It doesn't matter how much power you have, it's what you do with what you have. You're a sensitive with a big heart. And that's what allowed us to help Madeleine, Reginald and Billings find peace."

That made me smile. "Thanks." 

"Thank you," Nathan smiled back. Together we gathered up the papers from where Madeleine had left them. I saw they were transcripts from her beloved Jonathan's trial, including a written confession that he himself penned of his own free will. The man had not only been a sociopath, but a narcissist to boot. There was not an ounce of regret in the pages I scanned, while picking them up. Apparently, Madeleine's uncle, the magistrate who had excused himself from overseeing the trial, had collected all of this paperwork to keep it out of the public eye. But had never brought himself to destroy any of it, as a reminder of his own failure to protect his brother's family. 

Finally, we grabbed velvet bag of jewelry and headed back downstairs. Once there we settled down in front of the fire to wait for our hosts and their guests. 

As we sat there, Nathan remarked, "Are you okay? You've been awfully quiet coming back down here."

Nodding I smiled and answered, "Of course. How many women get to say they helped bring an end to a haunting? At Christmas time now less?"

"Some would call it a Christmas miracle," he pointed out. 

I thought about that for a moment and looked at him. "Was it? Did we pull of a Christmas miracle?"

Holding up a hand he began ticking off the facts, "We helped not one, but three spirits cross over and find peace and in the process reunited them with their loved ones. And we also freed the current family, and their future generations, from the threat of a terrifying haunting. I'd say that qualifies, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," I agreed.

Just then we could hear everyone returning from the chapel. I can't tell you how great it felt great being able to give our hosts the gift of knowing the haunting that had plagued their home for over a century had finally ended.