An Early Halloween Treat From Me To You!

*HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone!  I decided to give you all an early treat by sharing a snippet from "The Vampyre Blogs" novel itself.  Unlike the other entries you've seen here on this blog, this entry actually shows up in the book.  I was careful to choose this particular entry since all three characters are well known to you by now.  Plus it doesn't give too much away, while hopefully leaving you with some questions to think about until the novel's release at Christmas.  So without further ado, here are Marisa, Lisa and Nathaniel.  I hope you enjoy*

MARISA’S MUSINGS - October 7th, 2012

It’s been such a strange day, especially this evening.  I still don’t know what think at the moment. 

Waking up and finding Dad was still at home sitting in front of the TV just like in my dreams, gave me a start.  Especially when I saw he looked a little greyish, but then Mom opened the curtains and I saw he was just tired.  I literally blew a sigh of relief, but it still set me on edge for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, most of my classes were on the quiet and boring side today, which meant I kept worrying about my dad.

Thank God Lisa was in all of them with me.  I don’t know what I would’ve done without her around trying to distract me.  But I still couldn’t get that damn dream out of my head.  It had felt so real.  Then, just as we arrived at The Crypt, I started wondering if it had actually been some kind of warning. The idea it might be really put me on edge. 

Unfortunately, that’s when Dianne showed up and started in with me, as usual.  Normally I can ignore her comments, but tonight, I just couldn’t.  God I feel so bad about what happened.  Poor Lisa got caught up in things and could’ve wound up getting hurt if Nathaniel hadn’t stepped in when he did.

I still feel bad about blowing up at him the way I did at the time.  But that’s not the only thing that’s bothering me about him.  After tonight, I can’t look at him the same way I used to.

Finding out he was once married and that his wife pass away in his arms, really hit me hard.  I guess that’s why I kissed him the way I did.  I just wanted to wipe away the pain I knew he was experiencing at that moment, along with my own.  I didn’t tongue him or anything, but for a second I nearly did.  Something about him that made me feel so alive that I didn’t want it to stop.  But I remembered Lisa was with us and I know she has a crush on him.  So I backed off.  But a part of me wanted to go right back to kissing him.   I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so bad in all my life. 

And truth be told, I still want him.  But I’m also a little leery of him, because of because of what happened next. 

I excused myself and started to fix my make-up.  After all that crying I’d done earlier, I knew I must look like hell. 

Nathaniel was kind enough to walk away and give me my space, while Lisa checked on me quick before she went over to join him at the window.  As I heard the two of them talking quietly, I stole a glance over my shoulder.  Lisa was hanging onto him in a playful way, and I started to get jealous for a moment. 

Quickly, I shook my head and pulled out my compact so I could use the mirror as I fixed my make-up.  Surprisingly, I didn’t look too bad and was able to make myself presentable rather quickly. 

Then I decided to use the mirror to take another at Lisa and Nathaniel to see what they were up to.  And that’s when it happened.  I could see Lisa still acting if she were draped all over Nathaniel, only he wasn’t there. 

I blinked and stared at the mirror again, but the image had not changed.  From the way Lisa was positioned, I knew she had to be hanging onto someone, because there was no way she could keep her balance in that pose.  But there was no one there. 

Carefully I took another look over my shoulder and saw the two of them just as I had before.  Then I looked back at my mirror and saw only Lisa holding on to empty air.  I let out a little gasp and dropped everything, including the compact which shattered on impact. 

Immediately, Lisa came rushing over to see what was wrong and quickly helped me gather everything.  Nathaniel on the other had stayed by the window.  He seemed to be in deep thought. 

Naturally, I didn’t tell either of them what I saw, or rather what I didn’t see.  Instead, after Lisa helped me get all my make-up back in the purse, I told them I felt like going back down to the dance floor.   I’d remembered there were huge mirrors on the walls down there and wanted to see what would happen when we got down there. 

To my amazement and relief, I saw all three of our reflections in every one of them.  At that point I was fully ready to believe my eyes had simply played a trick on me. 

But now my mind has gone back to the day in my Aunt Betsy’s office when I first met Nathaniel.  She had brought in those beautiful fresh cut flowers.  But after he went near them to get his coat and hat,  we’d found them black and withered.

Is he what I think he is?  I’ve seen enough movies to know all the signs.   Yet, I saw his reflection in the mirrors of the club.  Plus he has a bunch of mirrors in his home which I’ve seen him use.

No, I think I’ve just been stressing out too much lately.  There’s no such thing as vampires.  Right? 

Nathaniel's E-Journal July 10th,2011 "My Goddaughter Is A Psychic"

I've walked this Earth for over a hundred and fifty years and never tire of the surprises the world still has in store for me.  This summer I've been touring Europe with my godson Brian, his wife Annie and their daughter Lisa (who is also my godchild).  Annie is expecting their second child in a few more months so I'm keeping a close eye on her as we travel.  

Brian is a history professor over at a college back in West Virginia and had wanted to travel overseas to get some firsthand looks at historical places.  Knowing that I'd spent a fair amount of time in Europe actually witnessing many events in the early 20th century he'd asked me to act as tour guide.  I did point out to him that I wouldn't be available for a lot of daytime excursions, to which he said, "True, but I know you have a lot of extended family connections over there who could show us around.  Plus they'd love to see you I'm sure."

I had to admit he got me on that point so rather than take just him I brought his whole family over.  I figured it would be educational for Lisa and a wonderful change of scenery for Annie.  

We spent a good three weeks just in England alone, before crossing the channel into other places.  After a short stay in France we moved on to Germany, where I first began to notice something different about my goddaughter, Lisa. 

                                  

With Brian being a history professor, he naturally wanted to see the old concentration camp at Dachau.  I arranged for a private tour, but did go with them.  I'd seen such places in action long in the early 1930's, long before the war began.  Some folks never realized how long they were going before the first shots were fired. The memories of what I saw and experienced inside those places have never left me.

Mind you, the ones I had been to were mostly the temporary camps, which had been hurriedly built to hold 'detainees' while the main camps like Dachau and Auschwitz were being constructed.  Those temporary facilities were completely dismantled afterwards and most of their names have been lost to history or mysterious fires that wiped out the entire facility.  Not many people hear about those, because no one likes to speculate how the flames seem to claim only only the officers and guards of the facilities.

Anyway, at Dachau they were met by Gustav Schuster, another of my godchildren.  Gustav was  only seven when the war began, but like many children he had kept his eyes and ears wide open.  He was able to tell Brian a number of fascinating details that often get left out of most history books. 

Lisa went with him, and being a typical fifteen year old wandered about on her own apparently.  For when I saw her later that evening she looked badly shaken.  I asked her what was wrong and she turned to me and whispered, "It was horrible... the suffering that took place here... I could almost hear their cries on the breeze..."

But I didn't say anything.  I've heard others say similar things because they were so moved by the history that surrounded them, so I didn't make anything of it.  That had been a week ago.

Tonight, her words came back to me and I began to realize there is much more to my favorite goddaughter than I ever suspected.

Having left Dachau behind we'd continued our travels out of the cities and into the countryside.  We were now settled in a little heard of town up north, not too far from Denmark which was to be our next destination.  I had been to this place before and several of the older families knew me and were only too glad to put us up when I called a month ago.

Once dusk fell, I was free to wander the countryside and decided to do so.  I had a particular destination in mind and had planned on going alone, but Lisa and Annie (her mother) insisted on joining me.  To tell them I wanted to be alone would've have been rude.  Plus, I know from previous experience, Lisa would've followed me anyway.  So I let them come along.

We drove a couple of miles out of town and then came to a wide open field surrounded by trees and flowering fields.  As soon as we got out and took a few steps Lisa suddenly froze in her tracks and visibly shivered.

Immediately I sensed what was wrong.  Putting an arm around her I said, "You feel it... don't you?"

She looked up at me with eyes full of pain and confusion and then nodded.  "But I don't know what it is."

Yes, she could feel it.  The girl was a 'sensitive' or psychic as they say.  I pulled her close and whispered, “It's the echoes of human suffering.  You see, the Nazis had temporary concentration camps throughout Germany.  They acted as a stop-gap while the more notorious camps were being built.  And because they only lasted for a while there are little or no records of them or where they stood.”

“There was one here,” she murmured in a hushed voice of awe.

“Yes,” I told her and led her back to the car, lost in my own thoughts.

Hardly anyone knew about the the camp that had been here in 1933.  It had been one of the temporary ones which had housed almost a thousand 'undesirables', specifically Roma (more commonly known as gypsies).  Like the Jews, they had been persecuted and hunted by the Nazis, although not to the same extent.  But for those who were taken to this place the results were the same.  Torture, forced labor, unclean facilities, sickness, starvation and systematic executions.

Mind you, these were not the rogues and thieves that so many writers and Hollywood produces depict in their works.  These were good people who chose to roam the country, partly out of choice and partly because no one wanted 'their' kind living among them.  I know this for a fact because I was living among them in 1933.  How I came to them is a tale for another entry.  It is enough that I became part of their family.  And yes, my secret did not remain hidden from them for very long.  They'd found out early on my true nature, but accepted me anyway as one of their own.  As well as their protector and guardian.  I even married one of them.  A teenage girl named Magda who loved me like no one else had ever before.  And whom I lost in this place.

She'd been taken from me months before and I'd spent the entire time searching for her nonstop.  When I finally found where she and the others had been taken I came as quickly as I could.  But it was already too late.  We were reunited long enough to say goodbye and for me to save those who were still alive.  As for the soldiers and officers who were running the place... my wrath consumed every single last one of them, with only a few exceptions.  (Again a tale for another entry)

Afterwards the place mysteriously burnt to the ground never to be rebuilt.  Perhaps the burned, bloodless bodies discouraged them.  Or perhaps what happened to the soldiers who came later to exact revenge on the town for the escape of the prisoners and the destruction of the facility, made them think twice about trying again. Whatever the case, the Nazis avoided the area forevermore.  Convoys of trucks and soldiers would take a wide circuitous route around and away from the town and forgot it was even there until after the war ended.  Although I heard many time through the grapevine that it was sometimes mentioned in hushed, fearful whispers among the Gestapo who made sure to erase any mention of it from the records.

After getting Lisa and her mother into the car, I quietly excused myself and returned to the field.  Normally I would walk the entire spread of the open area, but due to Lisa's reaction I did things a little differently.  I rose up into the night sky for about twenty feet and my lower half dissolved into a greenish mist.  This cloud columned down to the ground and spread across the entire field. Soon the flowers which were already withered or browning suddenly began to bloom as if it were early spring instead of mid-summer.

This is my special way of 'laying flowers' at gravesites.  Cut flowers wilt and die within seconds of being in my presence.  As long as they are in the ground and are still alive to some extent I can bring them back to full health, but once dead or dying after being severed, my 'field' seems to accelerate the decomposition.

As soon as the field was lush and full of color once more, I reconstituted and returned to earth.  Once there, I knelt down and offered the for those who had been lost.

Much to my surprise, before my prayers were finished, Lisa and her mother appeared on either side of me and knelt down to pray along with me.  I had lost family in this place, especially one closer to my heart than any before.  But I did not remain alone.  I always have family and I will always fight to protect and keep them safe.

Another Note From the Author....

Hello everyone, sorry for the slow updates recently.  I had planned on another post today, but life has a way of kind of being really getting in the way sometimes.  Especially when you're going back to college.  I started attending my first university this week.  Prior to that the past few weeks have been chaotic with my wife getting a new job. 

She got her Bachelors Degree last spring at the same university where I'm going now.  She studied to become a high school math teacher.  This summer had been a rough one for us for several other reasons as well, including her taking special summer courses for her credential to be come a teacher.  I had to drive her around a number of places including a couple of schools where she was interning.  A lot of that driving meant time away from the keyboard both for this blog and the novel itself.    There were a lot of things to be done around the house that only I was available to do (cleaning, laundry, errands, etc.)

I also had to go through some skin cancer surgery, which didn't always leave me in the best of shape to be working on things.

However...

These last two weeks, I was spending a lot of time on the novel itself thanks to my wife's new job.  She had to go through the interview process, be offered the job, accept it, and went through a couple of weeks of training at the new school so she could settle in.  Now the location of her job was in another town about 1/2 an hour away from where we currently live, which is actually quite a nice drive. 

But even better, the town where she's working has the most beautiful library, where I parked myself for hours working on the book.  I'm happy to announce that the 1st draft is almost finished.  I'm within pages of finishing it off.  Once that's done, I'll be doing a second draft to iron out certain issues such as clarity of thought, spelling, making sure the story flows, and finally getting to work on the actual cover.

After the 2nd draft is completed it will be going to my proofreader/editor.  Then I will do the 3rd draft at which point it will be unleashed on some willing Beta-Readers.  Once I hear back from them, a final draft will be completed and the book will be released. 

How long will all that take?  I don't have a clear idea yet, but the release will happen between late October and early December.  That much I can tell you.  It will all depend on how long it takes for others to get back to me (editing, beta-reading, etc.)  Once the 1st draft is completed the second one will come fairly quickly.

So hang in there, the actual novel is coming.  I will be posting more blog entries by the various characters you'll be meeting in the book very soon.  Some will be funny, others interesting, a few tearful, but I'll try not to leave you bored.  

A new post will be here in a week.  From what the characters are telling me, we'll be hearing either from Nathaniel, Lisa, or Marisa.  Or someone completely new.  Some characters can get kind of pushy.  

For now I bid you a pleasant week.  Come freely, visit frequently, but always leave a bit of the happiness you bring to this blog.  (paraphrased from Bram Stoker's Dracula).  This is my copy.  As you can see, I've read it a 'few' times, give or take...

Lisa's "Private" Journal June 16th, 2011

*Author's note: Today I'm introducing Brian's daughter Lisa, who is also Marisa's best friend.  Like her father, Lisa is fully aware of what Nathaniel is and has no problem with it as you will soon see.  She too will be a key player in the actual novel.  So please sit back and relax as Lisa introduces herself to you all.  I hope you'll find her as charming and fun as I do...*

SQUEEEE... ENGLAND IS SO COOL!

Oh my God, I've been having the best time since we got here.  This place is so incredible.  I really didn't know what I was going to think of this place when I was told we were going, but I'm so glad we came.  My whole attitude about coming was kind of 'mixed' so to speak.  I'd really been looking forward to enjoying the summer with my best friend Marisa, only to be told we were heading overseas for three months touring Europe.

My dad is teaches history over at New River Tech College and had been wanting to visit the continent for some time in order to take in some 'history' in person.  But he didn't want to just visit, he wanted to really explore and have the time to do his research.

Enter my godfather, Uncle Nate, who thanks to his inhumanly long life, was heading to England to visit some of his 'extended' family there and other parts of Europe.  While he was looking to going, he hates to travel alone.  So he decided to 'drag' us along with him on this trip.

As exciting as the trip sounded, I was pretty annoyed about not being with my bestie as planned.  I even tried to talk my parents into letting her come with us.  Much to their credit, they did like the idea and would've loved to have had her along.  They like to think of Marisa as another daughter and would've watched over her like a pair of hawks.  However... there was Uncle Nate to think about.  Marisa does not know about his being a hundred and sixty-four year old vampyre.  None of my friends know, which is why I have to keep this blog "PRIVATE".  It's more like a personal diary where I share my adventures and experiences involving Uncle Nate.  The only people who will ever read these entries are myself and any children I have when I'm older.  I want them to know and understand what makes Uncle Nate so very special and amazing.  He's been part of our family since 1866 when he married the widow of his best friend and commanding officer in the Union Army.  He's been our 'guardian angel' ever since.

And we're not the only family he watches over.  Since coming here I've met at least a dozen families who know and adore him as much as we do.  They too know his secret and guard it with a vengeance.  I've been told that before we finally head back home, I'll have met many more who call him "Uncle", "Friend" and even an "Angel" with dark wings..

But what I want to talk about right now is this new thing I'm getting into.  As soon as we arrived in London's Heathrow Airport I started seeing people in the most amazing outfits.  They're Goths, but not like the ones I've seen in school who do the dark clothing and black hair routines.  These people take it a step further into like living history meets art.  We're talking Classic Goth clothing and make-up done with STYLE.

I totally fell in love with the clothing at first.  I mean, some of the styles border on historical with an added touch of modern clothing.  Like this dress...

But I'm not just getting into the clothes.  The make-up is fascinating me as well.  It turns out one of my 'cousins' over here is into the Goth scene, and she's been taking me under her wing.  She's been showing me all kinds of cool make-up and looks I can go for, like this one she did for a party we went to...

I've started accumulating a new wardrobe.  Kate (my cousin) gave me this little outfit to take home with me.

I can hardly wait to show it to Marisa when I get back.  That's one of the major drawbacks to being here.  I can't phone her from here because it's too expensive to make an overseas call.  And we're kind of on the move a lot, so I don't get much of a chance to get online except for a few minutes, like now.  So I'm mainly using my computer time to write all this stuff up, while I keep sending postcards and short letters back to  her.  I hope I can tell her about Uncle Nate one of these days, he's really an amazing guy and I think she'd really like him.

Great, Mom's getting on my case about getting off so I have to stop for now.  We're heading to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum tonight and in a few days we'll be in France.  What a wild trip this is turning out to be.  I can hardly wait to see what comes next.

Later all! (kiss)

Nathaniel's Blog March 23rd, 201- "Me and My Easel"

Just got back from the museum.  Transcribed more letters onto the computer, while Brian tended to a new exhibit.  I'm pleased to say that the transcriptions are getting easier with time.  Occasionally, I find it more difficult and emotionally draining, but it mostly depends on the content of the letters and who wrote them.

Tonight I was mostly working on letters to friends while I was serving the in the 7th West Virginia Volunteer Infantry Regiment, more commonly known as 'The Bloody Seventh'.  We didn't start out with that moniker, it came later.  But for the first six months of our existence we were basically guarding the railroads from Confederate raiders.  These letters were from that period.

I enter the building where "The Crypt" is located.  But instead of going into the club itself which is located in the basement level, I head upstairs.  As I've indicated before, I bought the entire structure back during the Great Depression.  It's a four story affair that takes up a small block downtown.  I keep the place in good shape so no politicians can get any funny ideas about declaring the place 'run down' or an 'eyesore' that needs to be pulled down.

The ground floor is currently being renovated to become roller skating rink.  Yes, you read correctly.  A Roller Rink.  There's already some really good hardwood floors and open space down there. It won't be a huge affair, more like a couple of small rinks.  The smaller of the two will be for lessons or private parties, while the other will be more like a regular place.

I had thought about making one of them and Ice Skating Rink, but the refrigeration equipment would have to get run down into the basement area.  Plus there was the risk of any leaks dripping down into The Crypt itself. 

Anyhow, above what will become the roller rink are three floors.  The 2nd floor is comprised of mostly empty office spaces, while the 3rd floor contains empty small apartments.  Occasionally I'll rent a couple out, but not for very long.  I'm not keen on anyone living full time in the same building where I stay whenever I'm in town.  

Then there's the fourth floor, which is closed off to all unless I invite people up.  The entire floor is one gigantic open space that I use as my art studio.  Mostly the room is filled with canvases, oil paints, pastels and the like.  There's a big window that looks out into the sky that I love to work near, especially on nights when there's a full moon, like tonight.

I wander over to where my easel is and pull out one of the many canvasses I've been working on.  That's one of the tricky things with oil painting, you have let each layer dry before you continue.  So whenever I do settle in to work in here, I'll have several pieces under way and a lot of paint on my palette.

I tried my hand at painting after I 'came back'.  It was in the late 1890's, shortly after the death of my first wife Madeline.  We'd been traveling in Europe at the time she passed.  Feeling lost and alone I'd found myself wandering the streets at night.  One evening I'd run across a gallery where a local artist was giving a demonstration.  I wandered in and sat down to listen.

By the time he'd finished, I was eager to talk to him about doing a portrait of my dear Madeline.  Alas the  speaker refused, but another fellow who had attended the talk was only too happy to talk with me.  He was an older man, Professor Otto Hofstadter.  I often wonder what turns my existence would've taken had I not met him that night.  Much of man I have become I owe to him.

We spent many evenings talking and eventually Otto found an artist who was renowned for his portrait work.  I still treasure the portrait Mr. Sargent did of my Madeline, but I remember him more fondly for taking me under his wing.  I studied oil painting under his watchful eye for three years, but then I had to return to America to deal with issues regarding my Madeline's estate.  

But like any good pupil, I continued to learn more from other teachers, some of them recommended to me by my mentor.  I did not see him again until 1918 when we met in England.  He had just been hired by the British Ministry of Information to paint a series of images depicting the Great War (World War I for those not familiar with the original name of that conflict).  His depiction of the victims of 'mustard gas' I still find hauntingly realistic.

I like to think it was my time with Mr. Sargent that got me to try and learn new things.  Otto, being a professor, got me to take night classes and expand my education. But that's a story for another entry.  Right now it's time to get down to some painting.  Light is just right and I know what I want to work on. 

I turn to my unfinished paintings and pull out the one of Brian's daughter Lisa.  She's going to be turning sixteen in a couple of months.  And since I'm doing her portrait in oils, I really want to make sure its fully dried and finished in time.

We Interrupt Your Regular Blog Reading With A Word From The Author....

My sincerest apologies for not updating the untold chronicles of Nathaniel and company.  I've been very busy these last few weeks working on the 3rd and 4th drafts of my second book "The Ship" which is coming out in May during the Memorial Day Weekend.  Naturally, a lot has to be done between now and then to get that book in proper shape.  So it's taking up a lot of my time. 

That said, I want to reassure you Nathaniel, Marisa and many others will be posting here again soon.  In the meantime I thought I'd share a little of my inspirations and thoughts on Nathaniel's personality.  

I've been a long time fan of Doctor Who since the 1960's when I saw my first Dalek.  Naturally, I became fascinated with the series and the many incarnations of the Doctor and his companions.  But what really struck me sometimes was the concept of someone having such a long life.  While the Doctor is not immortal, he has been around for centuries and he's always kept himself busy.  Each incarnation makes reference to some famous person they'd met years ago such as Houdini, Einstein, HG Wells, and many others.  

In a lot of vampire fiction I've seen over the years, it seems many of the undead spent time staked or sleeping while the centuries passed them by and they awakened into a whole new period so different from the one they remembered.  For them there is the storyline of adapting and becoming familiar with how the world has changed, in addition to whatever mischief they were about to unleash on others.  

I didn't want that for Nathaniel.  I wanted him to be a man who has witnessed and been part of the changing times.  Like the Doctor, he loves seeing how humankind is moving forward, making new discoveries and even getting to be a part of it.  

However, there is still an old-world charm about him as well.  He still carries the lessons and values his parents instilled in him when he was growing up.  He'll use modern idioms and phrases, but there's still a lot of mannerisms that make one think he doesn't quite fully belong to this era.  I took some inspiration from Dark Shadows vampire Barnabas Collins, in this respect.  Barnabas was originally intended to be a villain who would be destroyed when the show ended in a few months time.  But his brooding nature, and tragic past, endeared him to viewers so much the show went on to last for several more years, with him becoming a dark guardian angel to his descendants and the town they lived in.  

Barnabas Collins was also one of the first good-guy vampires ever seen either in books or on television and has been a huge inspiration to those creating heroic undead.  However, he was also one of those vampires who was locked away and never fully fit in with the modern times.

I've been careful to make Nathaniel a mixed bag of old and new world.  If you were to meet him you'd find him funny, amusing, a bit dry in his sense of humor, but quite enjoyable to be around.  But he does have his moody side.  He's outlived a lot of people he loved and watched over.  But he doesn't get bogged down in the past, because there's always so many new things happening and new people to meet.  In this respect, he's a lot like the Doctor.  He remembers and respects the past, but knows he can only move forward with the times.  

He's also used his long life to keep busy.  Nathaniel is a man of many talents, because he's had the time to study and develop numerous skills.  He paints, has done stage work, plays several instruments, has worked various jobs and has gone to a number of colleges and holds several degrees including a doctorate and three masters.  I won't go into detail about what he's studied because that will come to light in the novel.  He chose his studies carefully and with a purpose.  

I really gave a lot of thought about his life when I came up with him.  What kinds of things would you do if you had an extended life-span that lasted centuries and you were fairly young all the time.  How many hobbies and skills could you learn?  What kind of talents would YOU want to develop.  Give it some thought and share some of them with us in the comments below.

Finally, I wanted to share a final image with you.  If I ever got the chance to see The Vampyre Blogs get turned into a movie for the theater or television, the person I'd most like to see as Nathaniel is Derek Hough.  His normal expression is kind of intense thanks to the arch of his eyebrows.  But he has such an animated personality, I could so see him going from intense to funny to moody all quite convincingly.  So if you've been wondering what Nathaniel might look like Derek's my choice.  Well that's all for now.  I hope to have Marisa or another new character post an entry in about a week or so.  So stay tuned, there are a lot more stories to be told.  Until then, happy reading everyone and thanks for sticking with me.

  

Nathaniel's Blog March 19th, 201- "An Evening With Family"

Finally got back into town after several weeks of book signings. Of all the things I've done over the years, I thought becoming a writer of novels would be the least demanding.  Boy was I wrong.  Writing the books was one thing.  I made my own hours, wrote when I felt like it, etc.  That was all well and good.  No one told me about the other half of the equation.  

Finding an agent to represent me was a bit of an issue for a while, but I had time on my side and I eventually got one.  Then having them pitch and find a publisher was a bit of a wait, but nothing I couldn't handle.  Once we found one and their editors got a hold of the manuscript, then things started to change.  Seeing my oh so wonderful pages come back covered in so much red I had to run to my 'supply room' just to make sure I hadn't spilled any bags on the pages without realizing it.  

Mind you, the day I got to see my first book on the shelves at the bookstores and online, was a real thrill.  It got even better when I found out it made the NY Times Besteller list.  I was so proud.  My hard work had paid off and I could sit back and relax while planning out the next installment in the series.

That's when reality decided to come knocking at my door, and it brought it's buddy 'The Learning Curve' along with it.  

The demands for book signings and the interviews started pouring in.  It wasn't easy getting people to understand I rarely do daytime appearances, and even those I keep short and sweet.  I have to glut my cells with fresh blood in order to handle the exposure, even at a minimum.  Unfortunately, this gives me a very 'pink' complexion that people often comment on.  I usually tell them I got a bad sunburn the day before.  Actually it's partly happening right at that moment, but I can usually last a few hours so long as I'm not in direct sunlight. I learned this little trick decades ago out on the battlefield, but I also learned the downside of too much blood and the nasty side effects it could have.  It's a delicate balancing act, but I've learned how to maintain a balance.

Anyway, with the latest round of publicity for the newest installment of my 'Love Across Time' series out of the way, it felt good to come back here and spend time with my godchildren.  Or rather, this particular set of godchildren.  Lord knows I've got a number of them out there, including a few overseas.

But, Brian and his family are rather special to me.  Their ancestors were friends of my family before I joined the Union Army.  One of my best friends was David Weston.  We fought and nearly died together several times.  He became highly decorated and became my captain in time, or rather just in time.  It was shortly after his promotion that I... became what I am.  I confided in him what had happened and he helped keep my secret by assigning me to night duty and scouting missions.  

When David fell at Gettysburg, I had myself listed among the fallen and came back here in secret to break the news to his widow Madeline, who was expecting at the time.  She had braved the lines to be near him and had been sent back home after becoming pregnant.  Upon hearing the news she went into labor and I was all she had available to help her with the delivery.  Long story short, I managed to keep my own needs in check while I helped deliver the first of my many godchildren.  Although, that boy, also became my step-son, two years later.  But that's another story.

In any case, you can understand my attachment to this family, who also consider me one of their own.  Especially, Brian's children Lisa and Geoffrey.  In spite of a thirteen year difference, Lisa is very attached to her baby brother.  Who sometimes attaches himself to me with a vengeance.  Like tonight.  

He's been well-behaved, but I couldn't help noticing how he keeps watching me intently.  As if he's hoping for something, but is afraid to ask.  I can't figure out what he wants though.  I did the 'money-shake' thing with him as soon as I came in.  He loves being turned upside down and watching coins suddenly rain down around him.  I used to do it to his sister too, until she complained she was too old for that sort of thing.  Too bad.  I was going to start using dollar bills in her case.  Oh well.

Anyway, we'd just finished dinner and were sitting in the living room when Geoffrey finally comes up to me and asks, "Are your feet going woof yet?"

It takes me a moment to realize what he means.  I got into the habit of using a phrase from the 1930's to complain about being on my feet too much.  The last time I did it in front of little Geoffrey, I'd used a little of my shape-shifting ability to produce two smaller versions of my 'Black Dogs' to play with him.  Poor little guy is allergic to dogs, which is sad because he loves to play with them.  

I smile and grab a blanket from nearby.  After covering my legs with it I tell him, "As a matter of fact, my dogs are barking."  Then I look down and he follows my gaze. 

There is movement under the blanket and radiates down to where my feet would be.  A moment later, two black puppy-shaped heads peak out from beneath the blanket.  

Immediately, the boy's face lights up as they bark happily at him and pounce.  Since they're smaller than what I usually produce, I was able to give them complete bodies this time.  I let them detach from me so they can play with Geoffrey.  As the three roll around on the floor together, Lisa comes to sit next to me.  She knows I won't be able to move for a while, or at least until her brother gets tired and goes to bed, which will be in about an hour or so.  I hope.

"Would you like to come with me to The Crypt tonight?" I ask her, knowing it will be all right with her parents.  I checked with them earlier.  "It's Friday so there's no school tomorrow."

"YES!" she cries excitedly and kisses me on the cheek.  

As she takes off to get ready, I turn to Brian and his wife Mary, "Don't say I never give you any time off from your kids.  Just make sure you enjoy yourselves.  Maybe you can make me another godchild."

"No way," Mary replies archly, "I got my tubes tied after Geoffrey was born."

"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy going through the motions of making another one," I smile.

She blushes furiously, but I can tell the idea has a lot of appeal to her.  

Behind her, I see Brian grinning broadly and mouth the words 'Thank you.'

I simply nod and continue to watch Geoff and the puppies at play.  He'll be good and tired by the time they're done with him.  The boy will sleep soundly tonight.  An earthquake wouldn't be enough to wake him up.

It feels good being part of a family, every once in a while anyway.  Maybe, one day, I'll even let myself settle down and stay put.  The question is where?  

My family homestead is nearby.  I know it's just sitting there empty, waiting for me.  The problem is that there might be another who's also waiting for me, within its walls.  A person I made a promise to, that I failed to keep...

Nathaniel's Blog January 7th, 20-- "A Night At The Crypt"

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.

Brian's E-Journal January 7th, 2005

I'm beginning to think I may have made a mistake in getting Uncle Nathan to transcribe all those letters and journals.  He hasn't been himself since he started.  I'm guessing that even after a hundred and fifty years some wounds just don't heal enough.  Though he already told me he's determined to finish the task.  He really laments all the journals, pictures, and personal mementos  that were lost to him over the last century and a half.  At least in cyberspace they can never be lost.  Plus he really wants those of us who know him to really be able to understand all he's seen and done throughout his long life. 

I still find it hard to believe that he's been around for almost a century and a half.  I don't mean just the fact that he's existed all that time, but what he's seen and done over the decades.  He didn't just sit around brooding and despairing about outliving all the friends and family he knew.   The man keeps looking ahead, eager to see new things will come.   

I mean think about it.  Here is a man who has witnessed the birth of movies, television, computers, and so many other inventions that have changed the world.  Plus, he's witnessed or even been part of historic events, both good and bad.  But that's just the start.  

He's attended night classes at a number college and universities.  I know for a fact that he has at least two doctorates, three masters and I don't know how many A. A. and B. A. Degrees.  He's learned to play several musical instruments and is a master of ballroom and modern dance styles.  

There are photos and posters from the stage and theater.  The man was actually part of Vaudeville, for crying out loud.  He knew some of Hollywood's biggest names before the movie industry ever even existed.  God knows he's made so many of us laugh performing some of his old skits, recreating some performances by other legendary figures like Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harry Houdini, Rudolph Valentino (before the movies when he was mostly known for ballroom dance) The Marx Brothers and Mae West to name a few.

  

The Marx Brothers had a huge influence on him.  He learned to play the piano from Chico and later the harp from Harpo.  Right now, we're in 'The Crypt' and Uncle Nate's tearing up the piano in Chico's style.  

*Author's Note: click here to see Chico in action:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfIVnzpj1vM

While his teacher was well known for polka and classical, Uncle Nate likes to let loose with a mixture of Jazz, Hip-Hop, and others while still using the same finger movements and comedy.   Even the youngest of the Hip-Hop crowd love to watch him in action.  Especially when he uses some of those comedic skills up at the turntables when he sits in for the club's DJ.

He never has to worry about the owner of the place being bothered by his antics, he is the owner.  He acquired the building back during the Great Depression.  "The Crypt" is in the basement and is always open most of the night.  Alcohol is never served.  That came to an end back in Prohibition and he never lifted the ban.  He just wanted a place for everyday people to enjoy themselves.  

Right now he's up there getting his and everyone else's groove going.  I could go on and on about him, but I think it's better when these things come from him.  Which I'm going to try and encourage.  Transcribing the letters and journals are still important, but so is existing in the present.  This is something he's taught me and so many others over the years.  I guess that's why we love him so much and help keep his secret.  At least half of the club's visitors know and keep quiet.  They also donate regularly so there's always a supply for him in the refrigerators.  He only takes from people directly on rare occasions.  But that's an entry for another day.  Right now, he's stepping over to the piano and cutting loose there, and my feet are itching to get on the dance floor with my wife and children.  Even at forty we know how bust moves with the best of them.  Uncle Nate taught us the importance of always moving with the times and living our lives to the fullest.

Nathaniel's Blog - "Letter From My Father Nov. 1861"

November 12, 1861

My Son,

    

     Know that we are in receipt of your letter from October 30th and were relieved to hear you remain in good health.  I am grateful, you addressed the letter to me and not your mother.  Some of the details you shared within those pages would've alarmed both her and your sister to no end.  I'm pleased to see that all my years of lecturing you about the wisdom of foresight were not wasted. 

     Word of illness spreading among regiments and even within forts have reached our ears, so I was very glad to hear you have been fairing better than some of your fellow soldiers, was welcome news indeed.  In sharing your letter with your mother and sister, I left out many of the details of your last encounter with the rebels.   Although I suspect, you had already not shared all that you could even with me.   

I pause for a moment as I stare at those words.  He knew me so well.  Often people told me how much I was like him, but in this case it was my mother who taught me to hold certain facts back from him.  As proud and firm a man as he was, my father could be very sensitive.  I see this in the next paragraph when he speaks of Roger, my best friend since childhood.

     Allow me to express my deepest sympathies for young Roger's passing.  Yes, word reached us about what happened.  You may receive a letter from his family expressing their gratitude for your staying at his side, while under fire until the end.  I will never forget all the time you spent with him as children, fishing, playing, getting underfoot.  The two of you were inseparable.  Pray take heart that a part of him will always be with you, and will hopefully be watching over you in the days to come.

See what I mean?  He didn't always express himself so warmly, but I always knew it was there.  Perhaps, it was concern for my sister that had put him in an especially sensitive mood when he wrote me on this occasion.

     The effects of your sister's illness still plague her.  I regret not telling you sooner, but shortly after you left her condition worsened.  She had contracted the Scarlet Fever which had claimed so many children in the past two months.  Luckily, she survived, but is still very weak.  Not an uncommon thing for a child after suffering such a dangerous illness.  The doctor says there may have been damage to her heart, but time will tell.  

God how I wish the man had been wrong.

   Know that she continues to ask about you and looks forward to all your letters with great anticipation.  She maintains high hopes that you will indeed be back next month in time to share Christmas.  In spite of all that I've been hearing, I share that hope as well.  Your mother and I pray this conflict will end as abruptly as it started and we can be a family once more.

     Until that time comes, do take care of yourself my son.  Your mother will be sending a package of food, blankets and more clothing shortly.  Do not bother sending your pay home to us, for you know very are quite well off.  Spend some of it on your fellow soldiers who are not as fortunate.  Remember the teachings of our Lord and may he bless and keep you safe.

Write again soon.

Your father,

D. Steward 

Even after all these years, the mention of my sister's bout with Scarlet Fever still hits me hard.  I remember using some of the pay I had on me at the time to buy my sister a new doll and some pretty things.  At the time of her illness, the first antibiotics were still another decade or two away.  Burning the patients clothing, blankets and any personal items they kept near them was the standard practice at the time.  Although I also knew my parents would've replaced a number of items for her, she favorite doll and stuffed toys that I had given her would've been thrown into the blaze.

I'm glad I acted so quickly.  For just two weeks later I received a letter from her...

A hand fall's on my shoulder.   "Uncle Nate?  I think you've done enough for tonight," Brian tells me.  "Why don't we go to 'The Crypt' for a drink or two."

I catch the tone in his voice that says 'You need it!' 

He's right.  I do.