Morgan Le Fay

May 21, 2021 at 10:40 pm (Art, Arts, Ghost Story, History, painting, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Picture of Morgan Le Fay

“So you’re trying to track down the original painting that appears at this website?” British MP Renfield R. Renfield asked Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

“I am,” Forrest nodded, “I’ve come across sketches of this portrait in various books and they say it’s a portrait of Morgan Le Fay.”

“The Arthurian era enchantress?” Renfield sipped a martini, “But the woman in this portrait looks like a woman of the 1930s judging by her hairstyle and style of dress. I thought Morgan Le Fay died back in the Arthurian era.”

“There were rumours that back in 1930 an archaeologist found her grave on the Isle of Avalon not far from Glastonbury and a spiritist medium friend of the archaeologist used her incredible occultic powers to bring Morgan Le Fay back from the dead,” Forrest explained.

“And someone in the decade of the 1930s painted her picture?” Renfield finished his martini.

“Yes,” Forrest nodded.

“I wonder who?” Renfield looked at the website photograph of the painting as Forrest shrugged.

. . .

The ghost of Winston Churchill and the ghost of Orson Welles were sitting in comfortable armchairs in the living room of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal West London estate.

Both were smoking spectral cigars.

Churchill was sipping a spectral brandy.

And Welles was sipping a spectral glass of spectral red wine.

“Anyways,” Churchill continued with his story to Welles, “In my painting career, I painted in various different painting styles. I once painted what looked to be in style a black and white photo of Morgan Le Fay but it was actually a painting. One I must say I was exceptionally proud of. Sadly, Clementine didn’t like it and gave it away to someone. She wouldn’t say who. She didn’t want me to get it back. I think Clementine was jealous of Morgan Le Fay’s exceptional beauty.”

“Do you mean Morgan Le Fay the Arthurian era enchantress?” Welles almost spilled his spectral glass of spectral red wine all over his ghostly suit, “But I thought she died back in Arthurian times.”

“She was apparently brought back from the dead in 1930,” Churchill explained.

“Is she still alive today?” Welles asked.

. . .

“Is this seat taken?” The beautiful and attractive young woman asked Dracul Van Helsing in the Saint George’s Pub.

“No, it most definitely is not,” Van Helsing answered.

The woman sat down in the pub booth directly across from Dracul Van Helsing.

Her dress, her fur covering, her necklace, her gloves, her hairstyle and appearance seem to have been accurately and prophetically depicted by one Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill many decades ago.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 21st
2021.

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Andrea Angelicus: Another Time, Another Place

May 8, 2021 at 10:32 pm (Art, Culture, Film, History, Mystery, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )


Andrea Angelicus: Modeling for an artist

Andrea Angelicus in another time, another place
Not the Coviet Union laden world of 2021
But Paris in the year 1948
She was in an artist’s studio
Modeling for an artist

“What will you call this piece, Klaus?”
Andrea asked.
“Klaus?” The artist looked surprised.
“I doubt very much your name is actually Henri,”
Andrea noted,
“Like the first name in your artist’s signature
On your paintings suggest.
For you have a German accent
Not a French one.”

“I am not a Nazi,” Klaus (aka Henri) stated emphatically.
“I never said you were,” Andrea waved her FDR style cigarette holder
holding her smokeless cigarette as if it were a magic wand.
“But these days most people think that,” Klaus sighed.

“I ask again, Klaus,” Andrea gave the impression of dropping cigarette ash on the floor, “What will you call this piece?”.
“The Woman of Midnight,” Klaus answered.
“Intriguing name,” Andrea smiled.
“Thank you,” Klaus put the finishing touches on his painting.

Klaus then signed his nom-de-plume signature to the painting
And asked,
“Tell me, Miss Andrea Angelicus, do you have any names besides Andrea Angelicus?”.
“I’ve been called the Phoenix Woman,” Andrea answered.
“Intriguing name,” Klaus smiled,
“Do you rise from your own ashes?”.
Andrea stepped into her circle of non-existent cigarette ash
and vanished.

Klaus looked
And noticed she was gone.
He felt his heart pounding in his chest
and slumped to the floor.

Klaus Grau was dead
But Henri Gris
would live on
through his paintings.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 8th
2021.

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Portrait of Tapairu The Tahitian Sleeping Beauty

March 21, 2021 at 10:27 pm (Art, Arts, History, Romance, Short Story, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Portrait of Tapairu the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty

“What an absolutely beautiful painting,” Sherrielock Holmes the (quite literally) immortal twin sister of London consulting detective Sherlock Holmes gazed at the newest acquisition now hanging in the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

Mr. Truffles her orange tabby cat purred in agreement and looked up affectionately at the painting.

“It was painted in Tahiti back in 1894 by one Sean Seamus O’ Gill an Irish painter and artist who lived on the island of Tahiti around the same time as the French artist Paul Gauguin,” Dashwood Forrest the art gallery owner and curator explained, “sadly Mr. O’ Gill is not as well known as Gauguin.”

As the old grandfather clock chimed in the gallery and the statue of a gnome emerged out of a small drawer to turn over an hourglass whose sands had just run out, images from a past time seemed to filter into the present.

Sean Seamus O’ Gill looked at the vision in front of him.

“What a vision,” Sean Seamus O’ Gill remarked to the French missionary priest Father Jacques La Croix.

“It’s like that old Irish hymn whose lyrics begin “Be thou my vision”, eh, Sean?” Father La Croix smiled.

“I guess you could phrase it that way,” Sean nodded, “She does look divine.”

“That she does,” Father La Croix agreed.

“Are you sure she wouldn’t object to being painted while sleeping?” Sean asked.

“No,” Father La Croix shook his head, “She wants to be painted while sleeping. She wants this portrait to be called the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty. She wants to give it as a gift to the man she’s going to marry.”

“She’s engaged?” A look of disappointment crossed Sean’s face.

“Nothing official yet,” Father La Croix answered, “but she hopes to be.”

And so that was how Sean Seamus O’ Gill came to paint the portrait of Tapairu the Tahitian sleeping beauty.

Over the next few months, Sean would sketch drawings and eventually paint pictures afterwards of Tapairu dancing at night in the village center like a royal dancer.

He would sketch drawings and paint pictures afterwards of Tapairu singing to school children during the day.

One of the village matriarchs took notice of his work.

“I’ve been told that an artist likes to depict a subject he loves,” she smiled.

“Um… Tapairu just makes a good subject,” The artist seemed to blush, “That’s all.”

Sean did wonder though which of the many suitors that seemed to want to attract Tapairu’s attention, Tapairu had given her heart to.

On the night of Sean’s birthday, many of the villagers gave Sean gifts.

Tapairu gave Sean a carefully wrapped and rather large present.

Sean opened it.

This was what he saw.

Sean then remembered the words of Father La Croix that she wanted to give the portrait of the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty as a gift to the man she wanted to marry.

Tapairu smiled happily at him.

Sean smiled happily back.

-A short story and
vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 21st 2021.

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Notre Dame In Paris To Be Restored With Original Gothic Style Spire

July 11, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Art, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The spire of Notre Dame Cathedral which was destroyed in a fire in April of 2019 will be restored according to the original Gothic design French President Emmanuel Macron announced a couple of days ago.

Macron had originally said after the fire that he was in favour of a “contemporary gesture”.

However the French President wanted the restoration to be completed by 2024 when Paris is hosting the Olympics for that year (assuming of course that most of humanity hasn’t died off from the Covid-19 virus or died off from massive carbon dioxide poisoning after having worn face masks 24 hours a day in the last idiotic decree of the WHO and numerous politicians around the world).

The process of designing a contemporary modern spire with an international competition for architects of no doubt exceedingly bad taste would have caused unnecessary delays.

France’s National Heritage and Architecture Commission thus recommended going with a spire in the original Gothic design.

The Cathedral’s first spire was built in the 13th Century but due to extensive damage it had to be removed in the late 18th Century.

Its replacement, designed in the Gothic style by architect Eugene Violett-le-Duc, was built in the mid-19th Century.

Jean-Louis Georgelin (the French Army General put in charge of the reconstruction effort) wanted a modern or maybe even a post-modern alternative to replace Violett-le-Duc’s Gothic design.

Architects from around the world submitted designs including one design with a rooftop pool and another with a giant park and greenhouse on the roof.

Australia’s notorious Uncle Ernie had even submitted an architectural design that showed a giant male phallus surrounded by pancakes.

It was mercifully lost in the mail.

The cathedral’s chief architect Philippe Villeneuve consistently spoke out in favour of a faithful restoration of the previous 19th Century Gothic style design.

This upset Gen. Georgelin and in a heated exchange at a meeting of the French National Assembly’s Cultural Affairs Committee last November, the General told Monsieur Villeneuve to shut his mouth.

Seconds later, Gen. Georgelin had a Devonshire Cheese cream pie thrown in his face by an invisible entity.

Although a few Harvey Wallbanger imbibing members of the committee swore it was a 6 foot 8 tall bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears who did the deed.


Esmeralda and her pet goat Djali look on in horror at some of the proposed designs for Notre Dame’s spire.

-A vampire novel written by Christopher
Saturday July 11th 2020.

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Dorian Gray and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

May 19, 2020 at 10:57 pm (Art, Arts, Gothic, Gothic romance, Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Dorian Gray and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was walking through the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

It was a private visit as the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery still hadn’t been granted permission by the UK government to publicly open during lockdown.

As Dashwood Forrest hurried back to his office because his office phone was ringing, the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka continued to walk down the halls of the gallery.

She entered a room marked PRIVATE as Forrest told her to treat the gallery as if it were her own home.

She noticed nothing in the room except for a pair of purple velvet curtains.

She opened the curtains and behind them were two portrait oil paintings. 

One was a portrait of a young man.

And the other was a portrait of a teddy bear.

She recognized the young man in the portrait.

His name was Dorian Gray.

For the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was an immortal.

In the summer of 1878, she had ridden a rare creature- a white buffalo- and as a result of that experience she became immortal.

That autumn, she had gone to London, England where she had lived ever since.

Also that autumn, she had met a dashing young man by the name of Dorian Gray.

After a whirlwind tour of sights and spots throughout England with Dorian, Tanaka thought that she was in love.

Dorian had invited her down to the seaside holiday spot of Brighton with him.

The Lakota Sioux Princess was sure that Dorian was going to ask her to marry him.

Dorian proposes marriage to the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka on the seashore at Brighton.

Tanaka said yes.

Later in Dorian’s hotel room, she went into his bedroom as he was out in the hall chatting to the bell boy.

She was shocked to discover a bunch of female human heads – all of them beautiful (for Dorian Gray did not have the exceptionally high IQ of a Pan Goatee) and perfectly preserved stored in jars of formaldehyde.

“Dorian!” She exclaimed when he walked back into the room, “What are these?”.

Dorian looked shocked and bit his lip, “Er… Um… You know how some people like collecting beautiful butterflies or beautiful seashells or beautiful autumn leaves or beautiful pressed flowers, I… um… like collecting heads of beautiful women.”

“But that’s sick!” Tanaka was shocked.

“But I’ve been invited to the Rothschild’s masked ball dinner party every year for the past 18 years!” Dorian protested, “How can you call someone who’s been invited to the Rothschild masked ball dinner party for that long sick?”.

Tanaka left slamming the door behind her.

“Does this mean the engagement is off?” Dorian called out from the balcony of his hotel room as she entered a horse carriage and the carriage drove away.

Dorian and Tanaka never saw one another again.

Later she heard the body of an unknown old man stabbed in the heart was found in Dorian Gray’s house in London.

Dorian himself was never seen again.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 19th
2020.

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The Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Teddy Bear

December 9, 2019 at 11:07 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Literature, Mystery, painting, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Teddy Bear 

Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery had spent the day visiting a London Christmas Market.

On his way home, he had visited a small antique store where he noticed a rather old painting of a child’s teddy bear.

Intrigued by the painting, Forrest had bought the painting for £20 and brought it back to his gallery with him.

He gave the painting a cleaning and noticed the name of the artist- Basil Hallward.

The same artist who had painted the original portrait of Dorian Gray that Forrest had purchased at an estate sale back in October of 2012.

Prior to purchasing that painting, Forrest had just believed that the artist Basil Hallward was a fictional character and the famous portrait of Dorian Gray had been a figment of Oscar Wilde’s imagination.

Back on September 3rd of this year, the figure of Dorian Gray had disappeared from the painting when Hurricane Dorian had struck the Caribbean.

Only to return when the storm finally faded into oblivion.

And now here was a portrait of a teddy bear done by the same man who had painted a portrait of Dorian Gray.

Forrest noticed the year below Basil Hallward’s name -1860- the same year he had painted the picture of Dorian Gray.

Forrest decided to take the frame off and check the back of the canvas of the painting.

There on the back of the canvas of the painting were the words Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Toy Bear- painted 1860.

So Dorian Gray had owned a teddy bear before teddy bears became popular (teddy bears had emerged as a phenomenon back in the early 1900s and the toy bears had in fact been named after Teddy Roosevelt who was the U.S. President of the day).

Forrest went to the secluded room in the gallery where he kept the picture of Dorian Gray.

He hung the portrait of Dorian Gray’s teddy bear next to Gray’s portrait.

He then put the velvet curtains up again in front of both paintings, turned off the lights and closed the door.

Had he stayed in the room a few minutes longer, he’d have noticed the figure of Dorian Gray’s teddy bear in the portrait had gone missing.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday December 9th
2019.

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Dashwood Forrest, The Empty Portrait and Hurricane Dorian

September 3, 2019 at 11:01 pm (Aesthetics, Art, Arts, Fantasy, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Horror, International Intrigue, magic, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Philosophy, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Dashwood Forrest, The Empty Portrait and Hurricane Dorian

Dashwood Forrest sat in his office in his art gallery in London and quietly sipped a drink of absinthe.

The Green Fairy as it was called was one of the favourite drinks of his idol the writer, novelist, poet and playwright Oscar Wilde.

Forrest’s living dead Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie (who had been brought back from the dead many years ago by South African witch doctor Dr. Sterling Makabo) was out for the evening.

Mulligan had been hired for the evening by British MP Renfield R. Renfield to haunt the residence of British Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn and stand outside the back entrance of Corbyn’s lodgings and say in a spookily haunting zombie voice (with an Irish lilt to it), “The Irish backstop ends at your back door, Mr. Corbyn. The Irish backstop ends at your backdoor.”

As Jeremy Corbyn began to suffer the worst nightmares of his life, Forrest finished his glass of absinthe, left his office and locked it.

He walked down to the end of the gallery where he entered a room marked PRIVATE.

No one (not even Mulligan the Irish zombie) ever entered that room.

Only he Dashwood Forrest art historian, art gallery curator and extraordinary gentleman of many talents ever entered that room.

For that room contained a portrait behind purple velvet curtains.

A portrait of a man.

A portrait of a man painted in the year 1860.

A portrait that was first mentioned in a book published in July 1890.

A book that most people (and even Dashwood Forrest himself for most of his life) had considered a work of fiction.

Until Forrest came across the painting in an estate sale back in October of 2012.

The picture was of a man named… Dorian Gray.

And the artist who signed the picture was named Basil Hallward.

The painting was of an extremely handsome young man in his early 20s.

Exactly as described in Oscar Wilde’s famous Gothic Philosophical novel of the 19th Century- The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Forrest drew back the purple velvet curtains that covered the painting and hid it from view.

Forrest got the shock of his life when he saw the portrait was empty.

There was no subject in the painting.

Dorian Gray was gone.

. . .

Forrest stared blankly at the blank canvas and blinked.

His smart phone went off.

It was a text message from his friend Amadeus Emanon.

A Set Enterprises satellite over the Bahamas had photographed the eye of the storm of Hurricane Dorian.

And a giant mysterious almost human figure seemed to be standing and moving with the eye of the storm in the hurricane.

Forrest again blinked.

For the figure was the spitting image of Dorian Gray.

The figure now missing from the painting.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher 
Tuesday September 3rd
2019.


Sibyl: She loved Dorian in vain.

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Harvey Tallbanger and The Artist

April 28, 2019 at 10:54 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Inspiration, International Intrigue, Life, love, News, painting, Romance, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The night was somewhat cool as if February had crept in to steal a backwards glance in the midst of a late April evening.

And Liam Van Stope carried his work with him as he walked from place to place.

For Liam Van Stope was an artist and the work he carried was a huge white sketchpad along with a box of pastel crayons.

There he would walk from cafe to cafe sketching and colouring the patrons and customers.

For Liam Van Stope wished that the Paris of Toulouse-Lautrec and Vincent Van Gogh would never go away.

Oblivious to the idea that the Paris of Van Gogh and Lautrec was separate from the Paris of 2019 by more than a century.

And soon the Paris of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway would likewise be separated from the contemporary Paris by a century.

And as far as the thinking of Emmanuel Macron and some of the world’s so-called leading architects goes, the Notre Dame of the ages would soon be separated by a new Notre Dame by vast millenia.

Liam Van Stope walked into Quasimodo’s Cafe an establishment named after Victor Hugo’s famous character who had carried a hunted gypsy girl across the threshold of the Notre Dame of the ages and cried “Sanctuary”.

Liam recognized Esmeralda the gypsy girl who like her namesake in Victor Hugo’s novel danced the eternal dance of the gypsies though unlike her namesake danced in this cafe on weekends and not on the streets in front of Notre Dame at night unintentionally arousing the lust of a Notre Dame archdeacon who would endeavour to bring Hell on earth instead of absolution when his lust went unrequited.

Liam ordered a cognac and looked around the cafe on this quiet Sunday evening wondering whom he could sketch.

When he first entered the cafe, he had noticed Esmeralda talking animatedly to the empty seat next to her.

Ah, Liam thought to himself, when he had seen this, that will soon be all of us one day. All of us talking to ghosts. Talking to ghosts of a Paris that will soon be found only in the history books.

Esmeralda noticed Liam sitting in the corner booth with his sketch pad open at a blank page and his sketching pencil in hand waiting to draw when the inspiration hit.

She motioned to the maitre’d and pointed in Liam’s direction.

Within minutes, the maitre’d arrived at Liam’s table with a drink in hand that looked to be partially made from orange juice.

‘Excuse me, sir,” the maitre’d said, “but Miss Esmeralda thinks you might like to drink this for inspiration.”

“What is it?” Liam asked.

“It’s called a Harvey Wallbanger, sir,” the British maitre’d working with stiff upper lip in a Parisienne cafe replied.

The maitre’d bowed and left.

Liam took a sip of the drink.

Then another.

And then another.

It was good, Liam had to admit.

The artist then noticed that sitting next to Esmeralda at the bar was a bunny rabbit.

A very tall bunny rabbit.

Probably about 6 foot 8 in height, Liam estimated.

The bunny rabbit was white in colour with big pink floppety ears and a big pink floppety tail.

He was wearing a pair of denim blue colour overalls as well as a tall black bowler hat that his big pink floppety ears were sticking through.

Liam began sketching and began applying the pastel crayons to his subject.

He had soon completed the picture.

“Excuse me, sir,” Liam walked up to the bunny rabbit, “but what is your name?”.

“Harvey Tallbanger,” the rabbit replied.

“A name that must be recorded for posterity,” Liam said as he wrote down the name.

The artist then bowed to Esmeralda and said, “Thank you for the drink.”

When he returned to his studio apartment, Liam had been doing some reflecting on his subject of Harvey Tallbanger.

There was something quixotic about that bunny rabbit, Liam thought to himself.

He went over to his palette and canvas.

He decided he would paint Harvey Wallbanger as Don Quixote.

Minus the knightly armour.

He would have Harvey wearing his denim blue coloured overalls and his bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears would stick through) but he’d be riding Don Quixote’s horse Rocinante and he’d have a lance in his hand and he’d be charging at the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret in the Montmartre district of Paris.

As he painted, Liam sang the theme song from the musical Man of La Mancha:

“To dream the impossible dream
to fight the unbeatable foe

To run where the brave dare not go

To reach the unreachable star…”

And with that, Liam Van Stope a dreamer painted his quixotic picture of the 6 foot 8 invisible Welsh pooka bunny rabbit Harvey Tallbanger now visible in his blue denim coloured overalls and black bowler hat (through which his big pink floppety ears stuck through) as Don Quixote riding his horse and battling the windmill atop the Moulin Rouge cabaret.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 28th
2019.


Esmeralda the gypsy: Inspiring bunny rabbits like Harvey Tallbanger
and artists like Liam Van Stope.

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Atargatis, Dracul and The A. Y. Jackson Painting

March 29, 2019 at 10:18 pm (Art, Arts, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, love, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The year was 1955.

Winston Churchill had recently stepped down as Prime Minister of Britain.

And an exhibit of paintings of Canadian artist A. Y. Jackson was opening in London.

The Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis had gone back in time from the current year of 2019 to 1955 to purchase an A.Y. Jackson painting that would become quite valuable.

Atargatis at a London art exhibit in the spring of 1955.

The name of the painting was Painting Of A Buffalo From The Rearend As Painted From The Rearend of A Train.

The buffalo had been painted by Jackson while he was sitting at the back of a caboose at a train stopped in the Red Deer River Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta, Canada.

A buffalo had stoppped and turned around and showed Jackson his rearend so the artist had painted a picture of the spectacle.

“A most remarkable portrait of the late Fuhrer of Germany,” Sir Winston Churchill remarked as he gazed at the painting through his spectacles.

Atargatis controlled a laugh.

Then she caught sight of Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.

“Are you here to bid on the painting, Van Helsing?” She asked.

“No, just here to take a look,” Van Helsing replied, “my dad often talked about this painting. That very same buffalo later went and took a crap on the shoes of my dad’s school principal. My dad always wanted to say thanks to that buffalo but never got around to it. So I’m here to do it on his behalf.”

“You’re an unusual man, Van Helsing,” Atargatis took a martini off a passing tray.

“And you’re a ravishingly beautiful goddess,” Van Helsing likewise grabbed a martini.

“We really should stop meeting like this,” Atargatis smiled, “it gives a whole new meaning to that expression “blast from the past”. Although I must say, I wouldn’t mind doing it in a DeLorean.”

“Neither would I,” Van Helsing smiled in return, “seeing as how time traveling DeLorean drivers were right in their prognostications about who would become U.S. President in a certain time period- be it Reagan or be it Trump- I’m sure the DeLorean back seat windows could use a little steaming up.”

“Did the DeLorean have a back seat?” Atargatis asked.

“If it didn’t, we could always make one,” the vampire hunter helped himself to a raw oyster.

“I hear a couple of nights ago, you were in Havana, Cuba in 1956,” Atargatis helped herself to a Cuban cigar.

“I was,” Van Helsing offered her a light, “where I heard from a Los Angeles private eye that drinking milk from your lactating breasts makes one immortal.”

“And would you like to be immortal, Mr. Van Helsing?” She approached him.

“England expects every man to do his duty,” Dracul quoted Lord Horatio Nelson and looked down the front of her dress.

The remaining drops of the Syro-Phoenician goddess’ martini wound up in the vampire hunter’s face.

Atargatis walked outside.

After grabbing a towel from the waiter and wiping his face, Van Helsing followed her.

“Well, how about this for a coincidence?” Dracul Van Helsing quoted a line that Dustin Hoffman spoke to Katharine Ross at the back of a bus and pointed towards a car parked in front of the art gallery steps, “A DeLorean.”

Atargatis looked at the car and smiled.

She turned to Van Helsing with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Well, a girl really can’t say no to a DeLorean can she?”.

“They shall look back and say, this was their finest hour,” Churchill quipped as he exited the art gallery.

“And will I get the chance to play with your gearshift, Mr. Van Helsing?” Atargatis asked as the vampire hunter opened the door for her.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” was the vampire hunter’s reply.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 29th
2019.

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The Siren of The Sea Plays A Sweet Melody: A Poem

March 13, 2019 at 10:16 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Literature, love, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural) (, , )


A Sea Spell 1877 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

A great beauty was she
The Siren of the Sea
who played sweet melody

Her fingers played softly each tender string
And with melodious voice she did sing
Birds of the sea flew to hear her
Sailors landed on rocks just to be near her
So tenderly tenderly she played the cords of the lute
while caught in her long flowing hair was forbidden fruit
A garland of flowers adorned her head like a sacred crown
Luminosity shone like the sun off her golden gown

Oh divine beauty, how can it be?
I’m here with you, you’re here with me
when music plays like golden rays
And with tender eyes you gaze
Then on your lap, I’d gladly lie
as the sea waves dance to the seagull’s cry.

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday March 13th 2019.

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