Mirage
He was wandering lost in the desert.
He had stupidly wandered his way down a trail he wasn’t familiar with and couldn’t find his way back.
His mobile service didn’t seem to work out here and he couldn’t call for help.
His canteen was almost out of water.
Evening was approaching and a day of desert heat would soon be replaced by a night of desert cold.
Then he saw it.
A blue Chevy truck.
Most likely from the 1930s.
In mint condition.
He looked through the window.
The key was in the ignition and it appeared to have a full tank of gas.
He looked around.
And saw absolutely no one.
It seemed the vehicle was a godsend meant for him.
He got in and drove.
Some 80 odd years earlier at that very spot, a notorious bankrobber Sam Scarface Faring had pulled over to the side of the road to relieve himself.
When he turned around to get back into his truck, it had gone.
Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Faring, a police vehicle soon pulled up along the road and saved him from dying in the desert.
Instead he faced a life sentence in prison.
A mysterious time/space vortex had helped one man in trouble and sent another man to his just fate.
-A short story written by Christopher
Sunday June 13th 2021.
Alfred The Great Receives A Visit From Cana Cludhmor
Alfred the Great Receives A Visit From Cana Cludhmor
Alfred the Great (848/49-26th October 899) was king of the West Saxons from 871 to 886 and then king of all the Anglo-Saxons from 886 to 899.
He was the youngest son of King Aethelwulf (reigned 839-858) who died when Alfred was young.
Alfred’s three older brothers Aethelbald, Aethulberht and Aethulred all reigned before him.
When his last older brother Aethulred died in April 871, the kingdoms of the Anglo-Saxons were under siege by the Vikings.
While Alfred was busy with the burial ceremonies for his brother, the Danes defeated the Anglo-Saxons at an unknown spot in Alfred’s absence.
Alfred then went on to meet the Danes at the Battle of Wilton in May 871.
He was defeated smashing any remaining hope that Alfred could drive away the invaders from his kingdom.
Alfred was instead forced to make peace with them and pay them tribute.
When the young Alfred returned to his castle shortly after the battle and had gone to bed falling into a deep sleep, he was awakened by the sound of a harp playing.
Alfred looked up and noticed a beautiful woman standing there playing the harp.
“Who are you?” Alfred asked as his loyal, faithful and ever alert (?) watch dog continued to sleep on the rug besides his bed.
“I am Cana Cludhmor the inventor of the harp,” the woman answered.
“You sound Irish?” Alfred noted.
“Indeed,” the woman nodded, “The Irish venerate me as their goddess of music, inspiration and dreams.”
“What do you want?” Alfred asked.
“Be not discouraged by your recent defeat by the Vikings,” Cana Cludhmor said, “For the next time you are awakened by the playing of my harp again, note you shall achieve victory against the Danes.”
Seven years later in May 878 Alfred was awakened by Cana Cludhmor’s harp playing and went on to defeat the Vikings at the Battle of Edington (also known as the Battle of Ethandun).
One of the terms of the Danish surrender was that Guthrum the leader of the Danish Great Heathen Army convert to Christianity.
Three weeks later Guthrum and 29 of his chief men were baptised at Alfred’s court with Alfred becoming Guthrum’s godfather.
Guthrum took the baptismal name of Aethelstan.
Under his baptismal name of Aethelstan, he ruled as king of East Anglia from 879 to 890.
And thus with the playing of an Irish Celtic harp, Alfred the Great defeated the Vikings.
-A short story written by Christopher
Thursday May 26th 2021.
Maid Marian and The Key To Nottingham Castle
“You seem to be eating a lot of fish there, Friar,” Robin Hood remarked to the good Friar Tuck.
“It’s Friday in Lent,” Friar Tuck remarked after having consumed a plate of 3 dozen fish.
“Are you going to join me in rescuing Will Scarlet from the evil Sheriff of Nottingham?’ Robin asked.
“I suppose I could stand a little exercise,” Friar Tuck patted his extremely round belly.
“Right, let’s get a move on then,” Robin said, “We’re going to meet Maid Marian at the edge of Sherwood Forest where she’s going to present us with the key to Nottingham Castle.”
“I take it that is where poor Will is being held,” Friar Tuck sipped from his cup of ale.
“It is indeed, my good Friar,” Robin loaded up his back pack with arrows while he held his trusty bow in hand, “In the dungeon.”
Friar Tuck was about to reach for a leg of chicken but then reasoned chicken might be considered meat and so withdrew his hand.
“How will we get into the dungeon?” Tuck inquired.
“That’s what we have the key for,” Robin explained, “which Marian will give us.”
“That explains why you’re the leader of our band of renegades,” Tuck tried to tie his cassock around his enormously large waist with not much success, “and why I’m not.”
“It does indeed, Tuck,” Robin smiled.
Alan-a-Dale followed behind Robin Hood and Friar Tuck carrying his harp and playing it.
“Are you going to Nottingham Fair?” Alan-a-Dale sang, “Rosemary, sage, parsley and thyme…”
“The mention of all those spices is making me hungry,” Tuck remarked.
“The mention of London Bridge falling down would probably make you hungry,” Robin commented.
“It would at that,” Tuck agreed.
They soon came to the edge of Sherwood Forest where they met Maid Marian carrying the key to Nottingham Castle:
Robin picked up the key and carried it on his way to the castle where after Friar Tuck hit castle guards over the head using large fish bones that he carried in a basket, they made their way to the dungeon where they rescued Will Scarlet.
Safe on the edge of the forest again, Robin fired an arrow back in the direction of Nottingham Castle to the tower floor on which the Sheriff of Nottingham had his bedroom.
The arrow had a message attached to it that read,
“My dear Sheriff of Nottingham,
Your prisoner has escaped.
Yours affectionately,
Robin Hood.”
Back in the forest again at Robin Hood’s camp, Friar Tuck complained, “I feel hungry again.”
It was a good thing for the good friar that Made Marian had baked 3 dozen apple pies.
-A Robin Hood tale
written by Christopher
Friday February 19th
2021.
Marianne de Lilith
Marianne de Lililth
Carson Cody Albion sat in his private eye office
From his window, he could get a good view of parts of the city burning
The private eye felt hungry so he ordered a pizza to be delivered to his office
Unbeknownst to Albion, the courier got his orders mixed-up
A pizza that was to be delivered to the leader of a rival gang
A gang in opposition to the gang that owned the pizza shop
Was delivered to Albion instead
The pizza contained several doses of toad venom
Luckily for Albion the pizza cook got his recipe books mixed up
He did not sprinkle enough toad venom on the mozzarella to deliver death
Only enough to give the eater a high
Although Albion might not have died anyways
He was immortal
Having drunk breast milk from the lovely knockers of
the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis back on VE-Day
May 8th 1945
Albion ate the pizza
and drank his bourbon
And soon he was off on a hallucinogenic trip
That would have made Samuel Taylor Coleridge green with envy
For there was no storytelling sailor with an albatross around his neck
Nor a Kubla Khan in Xanadu stately decreeing a pleasure dome
Rather this sight greeted his senses
Marianne de Lilith
I am Marianne de Lilith
said the sexy redheaded witch
Well, Marianne, said Albion,
I love the way you’re holding that broomstick.
Bats flew in the light of the full moon
Behind the dead desolate tree.
“This is but a vision of the mind,” Albion reflected
“As I don’t think the Farmer’s Almanac called for a full moon this evening.”
“The tree behind me died as a result of being watered with toad venom,”
Marianne explained.
“That is a shame,” Albion reflected as he threw his cigarette lighter at Marianne’s feet.
Albion crawled over to pick it up.
“I’m reminded of fishing season for some reason,” Albion remarked as he gazed up her stockings and her skirt.
A spiked stiletto high-heeled shoe crushed his hand.
“This never happened to John Candy when he made a splash with his loose change aboard that boat,” Albion grimaced with pain.
Albion soon found himself in Marianne’s shack.
He started whistling that song “What A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”
as he gazed at the pair of knockers that weren’t hanging on Marianne’s door.
“I take it you still like being breast fed?” Marianne asked the private eye.
“I do,” Albion nodded, “I’m like Jerry Seinfeld in that respect.”
So Marianne breast fed him.
Breasts that were loaded with toad’s venom and not milk.
Albion went into cardiac arrest and was rushed to an LA hospital.
“Beware the breasts of Marianne de Lilth!” Calpurnia’s ghost warned as she strolled the corridors of the hospital emergency ward.
Her warning came a little too late for Carson Cody Albion private eye.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 13th
2020.
Renfield and The Ghosts of Uncle Ernie In Three Temporal Locations
Renfield and The Ghosts of Uncle Ernie In Three Temporal Locations
“To be a pirate king, to be a pirate king,
it is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king,
To steal the lordly ring, to steal the lordly ring,
it is, it is a glorious thing to steal the lordly ring,
To be able to shower and sing, to be able to shower and sing
it is, it is a glorious thing to be able to shower and sing …”
Renfield fell asleep after singing his song in an attempt at a home musical operetta podcast after having butchered the lyrics of the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Pirates of Penzance.
He was awakened by an apparition identifying itself as The Ghost of Uncle Ernie Past.
“I’ve never heard of you,” Renfield blinked, “What happened to Christmas Past?”.
“It’s long past,” Uncle Ernie explained, “We’re now approaching the middle of May. I’m here to show you the past.”
“My past?” Renfield asked.
“No, mine,” Uncle Ernie grabbed Renfield’s hand in violation of social distancing protocols and took him back to Australia in the mid-1980s to a living room.
“What is this place?” Renfield asked.
“I have no idea,” Uncle Ernie answered, “but the TV commercial for my kids’ birthday party balloon sculpture business is about to come on.”
The commercial shows a group of kids dancing around Uncle Ernie who’s wearing a clown costume.
Kids (singing):
Uncle Ernie we love you,
To us, you are a star,
Uncle Ernie we love you
and what you keep in your candy jar.
“And was your business a success?” Renfield inquired.
“Sadly,” Uncle Ernie had tears in his eyes, “I wound up in jail right after this first commercial aired. The Sydney police decided to investigate just what it was I had in that candy jar. And while I was behind bars, what I had in that candy jar was passed around to a night time sitting of the Australian Senate. The Hansard minutes of that particular Senate session are still marked Confidential and Top Secret to this day for some reason.”
Renfield woke up and found himself in a pub in downtown Sydney.
“I’m the ghost of Uncle Ernie Present,” Uncle Ernie smiled as he downed another beer.
“Australia in May 2020?” Renfield looked around, “But aren’t there any lockdown measures in place?”.
“Not in joints owned by the inscrutable Mr. Inn Lu,” an elderly Asian gentleman dressed like Confucius bowed to them, “The authorities leave me alone. Here are the lap dancers you ordered, Ernie. Ming Ling and Ding Dong.”
Ding Dong sat on Renfield’s lap, “The last time I sat on your lap, Uncle Ernie, you didn’t have much of a dong to ding.”
“Well I never,” Uncle Ernie protested.
“That’s probably the truest thing you’ve ever said in your life, Uncle Ernie,” Ming Ling giggled.
After an hour of ecstatic bliss, Renfield was awakened by the sound of Big Ben ding donging.
Which was strange since Big Ben was currently under repair.
“I am the Ghost of Uncle Ernie to come,” said Uncle Ernie.
“Oh, Uncle Ernie, you’re such a liar,” Ming Ling giggled, “you never come.”
Uncle Ernie’s face turned red as the apparition vanished into the night.
“I need to stop eating those Australian candies,” Renfield remarked as he slid under his computer desk and into oblivion.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 15th 2020
Return To Field of Dreams
Return To Field of Dreams
Marcus Shimbiro had a dream
When as an 8-year-old boy
he left his native Kenya
For the U.S.
He wanted to become a baseball player someday
He did excel at sports and particularly at baseball
In high school, he was hitting home runs
The same way he downed ice cream cones
with a vengeance
But then came that fateful day
He fell off his neighbour’s roof
While helping him paint it
And broke his arm and his leg
His arm and leg eventually healed of course
But he was not the same player ever again
He could no longer run
Or hit a home run.
Angry and bitter a few weeks before graduation
He borrowed a friend’s car and headed for Iowa
Why Iowa?
Because it was the home state of the Field of Dreams
That famous 1989 sports fantasy movie with Kevin Costner and James Earl Jones
About the Iowa corn farmer who plows part of his corn field
To build a baseball field
A field on which Shoeless Joe Jackson
And 7 other famous 1919 Chicago Black Sox players play
On that field in which Shoeless Joe and 7 others played
Was a player named Archibald “Moonlight” Graham
Who played one game for the New York Giants in 1905
but never had a turn at bat
Corn farmer Ray Kinsella (Costner)
and author/writer Terrence Mann (Jones) drive to Minnesota
Where they learn that Graham was a physician who had died years earlier
During a late night walk, Ray finds himself transported back to 1972
Where he encounters the elderly Graham (Burt Lancaster) who says he left baseball for a satisfying medical career
During the drive back to Iowa,
Ray picks up a young hitchhiker who introduces himself as Archie Graham
and says he wants to be a baseball player
Eventually, Graham gets the chance to play baseball with Shoeless Joe and other baseball greats in the Field of Dreams
But at a critical point in the game, Graham leaves the field of dreams
To administer emergency medical aid
Graham makes his choice
To be a doctor after all.
And now Marcus Shimbiro torn with rage at having his dreams dashed
Was trying to find this Field of Dreams of film-lore
To play baseball
Or at least find out what he was to do with his life
It was nighttime
and as he drove by a corn field
He was shocked to see baseball players playing ball in the field
He pulled in
And sat with the other spectators
And watched the greats of baseball play the game
Shoeless Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio and many others
He was shocked to discover Dr. Archibald Graham sitting next to him
offering him a hot dog and a coke
“Too bad about your fall, Marcus,” Graham remarked as he ate his own hot dog.
“It is,” Marcus frowned, “it’s not as if I could be a doctor like you not having baseball to fall back on.”
“Who says you can’t be a doctor?” Graham looked at him.
“I don’t have the marks or the aptitude for it,” Marcus answered.
“But you are good at observation and analysis and above all, perseverance, you may not get flying colours right away but with your observation and analysis and perseverance, you might spot something others have missed and that might make all the difference in the world someday,” Dr. Graham noted, “Ever hear the fable of the tortoise and the hare? The tortoise won the race in the end.”
“But that’s just a fable and a fairy tale,” Marcus pointed out, “That doesn’t happen in the real world. Most of the time, it’s the hare that wins and not the tortoise.”
“Most of the time that’s true, Marcus,” Graham agreed, “But often it’s at the most critical junctions in the world and in history that the tortoise wins the race. And at such times, the hare is usually not a foe but a friend. And it usually turns out to be one race where the hare was happy to see the tortoise win.”
Marcus looked at Graham.
He wasn’t quite sure what Graham meant by those words but somehow deep down inside himself, he felt they were important.
“So, do you think I should go into medicine?” Marcus asked.
“I do, Marcus, I do,” the elderly doctor patted him on the shoulder.
And seconds later, Dr. Graham, the players, the spectators and the baseball field were gone.
And all that was left…
… Was an empty corn field.
Marcus Shimbiro went into science and into medicine.
He didn’t always get the best marks.
But he studied hard and learned from his mistakes.
And developed a profound sense of analysis and insight.
He didn’t think he was good enough to treat patients but he went into research.
Using his memory and his insight and analysis in that line of work.
And then one day in the year 2020,
analyzing data and keeping track of things he and his numerous colleagues all over the world were doing,
Dr. Marcus Shimbiro discovered…
…. the vaccine for the Covid-19 Coronavirus.
We can all dream, can’t we?
And hope… is the knowledge that sometimes dreams can become reality.
-A narrative poem written by Christopher
Wednesday April 8th 2020.
Night of The Pink Moon Super Moon
Night of The Pink Moon Super Moon
Never an easy time to say good bye
As a pink toned rose moon rose in the sky
Against the rocks the surging tide rose high
Lovely scent of palms and South Sea air
And at the door stood a lady fair
Magical pink mist rose in distant cloud
In this paradise far from the madd’ing crowd
Sometimes worlds meet where they embrace and not collide
For life is more than a merry go ride
Heart to heart, heart to heart
Must kindred souls do part?
She Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian goddess of the moon
He Dracul of the earth’s mournful tune
Now on this night she must return home
Else she fade away like the ocean foam
Star crossed lovers under a rose hue sky
Where South Sea waves splash amidst mermaid cry
She turned around with last longing look
And to the heavens vanished leaving one night hunter forsook
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 7th
2020.
Reblog of The Death of The March Hare: A Poem
A narrative poem I wrote 3 years ago today:
On her throne, Persephone the Queen of the Underworld did decree
that the March Hare had brought joy to far too many
and it was time that this valiant hare should die
and should be now before March time did fly
So on this last day of March 2017
as the Hare drank tea with a Heartly Queen
the Messenger of Death did drop Polonium-210
into the hare’s teacup at the stroke of Big Ben
The hare raised the tea to his lips
as Mad Hatter recalled his latest trips
up through and outside the Rabbit hole
when the poor hare turned as black as coal
“Remember to pay the phone bill” were the Hare’s last words before he died
as into the frying pan went the Heartly queen’s kipper being fried
The March Hare fell over quite dead
and the Heartly queen turned bright red
“I did not say…
View original post 57 more words
Miranda Singh and The Wonderous Pair of Goldfish
Miranda Singh and The Wonderous Pair of Goldfish
“And in other news, Pope Francis has tested negative for the Coronavirus but remains positive for Communism… ”
Renfield switched over from Britain’s Sky News to BBC News where a friend of his was delivering the news:
“And the 600 year old Miraculous Crucifix of Christ that Pope Francis brought out to deliver his Urbi et Orbi message last Friday has suffered intense water damage as a result of the rainfall that occurred while the Pope gave his speech castigating the world for not following his globalist Neo-Marxist Neo-Bolshevik agenda and as a result the God of Surprises (the god worshipped by Francis) had sent this pandemic upon the world. Pope Francis gave this speech to the empty Saint Peter’s Square while standing comfortably under a large canopy in the pouring rain with his back turned against the Miraculous Crucifix of Christ that became drenched in the pouring rain being a great distance behind the canopy and the ancient unique statue has suffered intense water damage as a result…”
Renfield switched over to ITV News:
“Former British Prime Minister Gordon Brown has called for a One World Government in the wake of the Coronavirus crisis.
Minutes after he made the statement, a cream pie was thrown in his face by an invisible force.
Although a London bobby who had been drinking Harvey Wallbangers on the job says he saw a 6 foot 8 tall bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears do it.”
. . .
The storm clouds descend
A beast has crawled from Egypt’s sphinx
towards Bethlehem to be born
A virus fancying itself as wise
has arisen from the East
and spread its tentacles all over the world
Offering gifts of pain, suffering and death
Instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh
in adoration of the new Messiah.
. . .
In the streams of a large conservatory greenhouse in London, Set Enterprises secret agent Miranda Singh saw two multicoloured goldfish that she had never seen in the stream before swim to escape a shark she had never seen in that stream before.
The goldfish leapt above a huge rock towards another stream.
The shark likewise leapt and landed on the rock hitting its head knocking itself out.
The shark then metamorphosed into the form of the Greek god Ares.
Ares still lay there unconscious.
The two goldfish then shapeshifted into human form.
One of them Miranda recognized as being Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.
And the other she recognized as being Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian Goddess of the Moon.
They left the conservatory.
Miranda looked down at the stream and thought, “Oh brave new world that has such people in it.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 30th
2020.
The Storyteller: Weaving Cloth and Spinning A Tale
The Storyteller: Weaving Cloth and Spinning A Tale
Outside the world spins on its axis
As she spins cloth in actual praxis
In her mind she spins tales
like mermaid meeting whales
Fairies and butterflies sit on shelves
While her goldfish bowl swims with elves
Harlequin dolls on floors watch the cloth being weaved
As magic falls seamlessly out of her sleeve
For her mind is full of tales never told
of magical creatures and maidens bold
In a land she imagines where love ne’er grows old
Where knights shine and evil giants fold
Her old phonograph plays songs of yesteryear
Where sometimes those lyric memories can bring forth a tear
Her window on the world becomes a magic mirror
Where dark things are far but hope is nearer
Outside ships may burn and conquering dirigibles fly
While she entertains her fairy
audience with sweet lullaby
Sometimes in dark times, one has to stay home
But for a mind such as hers, she has a whole world to roam
-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday March 19th 2020
Dracul Van Helsing 
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