South African Artist SAREJESS and The Sands of Time

July 19, 2017 at 2:59 pm (Art, Arts, Folklore, Ghost Story, Mystery, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, )

South African Artist SAREJESS and The Sands of Time

The great South African artist SAREJESS was dreaming.

He was dreaming he was walking along a very sandy beach.

On the beach was a huge hourglass.

The hourglass looked to be ancient.

The sands had run out.

The upper glass bulb of the hourglass was empty.

While the lower bulb beneath the hourglass’ narrow neck was full of sand.

A huge wave suddenly came in towards the shore and surrounded the hourglass.

Mermaids leapt forth from the waves.

They turned the hourglass over.

So once again the sands of time were flowing through the hourglass.

The waves retreated and the alluringly beautiful mermaids went with them.

And the hourglass was once again on the sandy beach.

For the beach was now completely dry again despite having been hit by the waves carrying the magical mermaids.

And sand flowed down from the upper glass tube (that moments before had been the lower glass tube) through the hourglass’ narrow neck into the new lower glass tube (that prior to the sudden advent of wave and mermaid had been the upper glass tube).

A voice spoke to SAREJESS from beyond the ocean, “Behold the sands of time are flowing once more.”

Then SAREJESS woke up.

He ran to his studio.

This scene he felt compelled to paint. 🎨

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday June 18th
2017.

To buy a genuine authentic oil painting by the great South African artist SAREJESS for yourself, please visit http://www.sarejess.co.za/

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South African Artist SAREJESS and The Flying Dutchman

July 12, 2017 at 7:32 pm (Art, Arts, Folklore, Ghost Story, Mystery, Mystery/horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , )

South African Artist SAREJESS and The Flying Dutchman

The great South African artist SAREJESS looked at the oil painting of the old Grandfather Clock with Egyptian markings he felt compelled to paint a few nights earlier.

What he wondered did this painting mean?

SAREJESS felt inclined to cover the canvas of the painting with a sheet.

For inwardly, he somehow felt that the world was not ready to gaze at the painting just yet.

Even looking at the painting itself gave SAREJESS a sense of foreboding.

He felt like he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone whenever he looked at it.

Just like he felt that he was in an episode of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery when he painted it.

SAREJESS left his studio and walked down to the beach near the town of Port Elizabeth where he lived.

He breathed the winter air (for it is currently the season of winter down in South Africa) and gazed up at the winterly night sky.

He thought he saw a shooting star up in the sky.

Except for one thing.

Although it looked like a shooting star (a star with a long fiery tail on it as it shoots down from space towards the earth), it didn’t move across the night sky with the usual speed of a shooting star.

In fact, it was moving quite slowly.

And then suddenly the object just vanished.

A strange phenomenon for which SAREJESS had no explanation.

He looked out towards the Indian Ocean and noticed a strange mist arising up from the wintery salt waters.

Then it looked like a flickering light was moving through the mist.

Moments later, the ghostly outline of a very old antiquated sailing ship appeared out of the fog.

SAREJESS immediately recognized the vessel.

For he had seen it once before.

The vessel was the Flying Dutchman.

Although SAREJESS had only told a select small group of friends that he had once seen the Flying Dutchman.

For he didn’t want people to think that he was crazy.

Although now that he was considered an up and coming artist on the South African art scene, often craziness and being an artist went together.

“SAREJESS,” a booming voice echoed at him from a figure behind the steering wheel on the deck of the ghost ship.

SAREJESS looked in the direction of the voice.

“SAREJESS, an entity shall be entering through a portal very shortly,” said the booming voice.

“Entity? What entity?” SAREJESS asked.

But the ship had vanished into the mists from which it came.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 12th
2017.

To view the paintings of the great South African artist SAREJESS for yourself, please go to
http://www.sarejess.co.za

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The Re-Awakening of Serena?

July 12, 2017 at 5:34 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

The Re-Awakening of Serena?

Dr. Cadbury Rocher reported to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set that his fiancée Serena (slain by a Soviet assassin in 1924 but whose body was kept cryogenically frozen since then) seemed to be showing signs of coming back to life.

In fact the EEG machine hooked up to Serena’s body was showing signs of brain activity within Serena and the machine had actually been showing signs of it the past couple of months but the technician in charge of monitoring Serena had neglected to inform Dr. Rocher.

Set Enterprises had of course immediately terminated the negligent technician’s employment (the termination was accomplished by Renfield R. Renfield putting a gun at the back of the man’s head and pulling the trigger- thus saving the company the cost of pension payout).

“So,” Set asked Dr. Rocher, “would these signs of conscious activity within her brain be the reason that a lot of photos have appeared in the past month showing Serena appearing at various places in the past? Her returning consciousness has caused her to be a time traveler?”.

“That’s part of it,” Dr. Rocher nodded, “of course the fact that she originally time traveled from this year of 2017 back to the early 1920s where she met Houdini and later you must have been brought about by another entity who has the ability to travel through time.”

“I see,” Set was silent.

“As for who this entity is, I have no idea,” Dr. Rocher shrugged.

Set was staring at a ship in a bottle on a distant shelf.

The ship in the bottle was itself an unusual vessel.

It was an ancient Egyptian funeral barge in a bottle.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday July 10th
2017.

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Serena, Set and Houdini

June 8, 2017 at 3:18 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

It was the year 1920.

And the Egyptian vampire Set had heard that the Great Houdini was performing even greater magic stunts ever since he had hired a new assistant called Serena.

In fact, Set had heard the controversial British politician Winston Churchill say down at the Royal Albert Club, “It is my firm belief that it is the assistant Serena who’s responsible for planning these new amazing tricks of his and not the Great Houdini himself.”

“That’s probably true,” Sir Arthur Conan Doyle piped up while smoking his pipe, “after all, Houdini doesn’t believe in Spiritualism.”

“Neither I believe did that great detective Sherlock Holmes,” Churchill answered back over his brandy.

Doyle harrumphed.

For Doyle had chronicled Holmes’ career.

“I hear some people say that she’s from the future,” a dodgy old member of the House of Lords spoke up.

“She must be,” Churchill answered, “she says I’ll be Prime Minister someday.”

“More likely from an insane asylum then,” an opposing Member of Parliament spoke up.

“Well she did say the distant future is an insane asylum,” Churchill reflected.

Set thought he better go see this magician’s assistant himself.

If she’s from the future, she may be able to tell me what I should invest in, thought Set.

For Set worked as an investment analyst in the City of London.

In fact, he was the only investment analyst in London one could phone in the middle of the night.

The fact that he was a vampire was what kept him up at night.

Set went to the dressing room of the theatre where Houdini was performing.

Without knocking, he entered the door marked ASSISTANT.

And then he saw her.
Serena the Magician's Assistant

Serena.

For the first time since he thought he was in love with his sister Isis (which led to the whole family dispute with his brother Osiris and his nephew Horus), Set was in love.

Love at first sight.

A vampire had fallen for a magician’s assistant.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday June 8th
2017.

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Abe Lincoln’s and Jefferson Davis’ Ghosts In Vatican

March 20, 2017 at 3:51 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

The ghostly figure in the top hat looked around.

He didn’t recognize the place.

But President Lincoln knew he was back on Earth.

A place he hadn’t been in some 152 years.

Lincoln looked and saw another ghostly figure approaching.

He recognized it as the ghost of his arch enemy Jefferson Finis Davis the President of the Confederate States of America.

As Lincoln saw Davis’ specter approach, he reflected on something he often felt when he looked at Davis’ photos when alive, “It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing oneself reflected- the reflection of one’s dark side.”

Abraham Lincoln Jefferson Davis

“Is this some sort of cosmic joke you’re playing, Abe?” Jefferson Davis asked, “Rubbing salt into the wounds of the defeated Confederacy?”.

“I have nothing to do with this,” Lincoln answered, “I thought this was some sort of black magic conjured up on a soulless run plantation in the Deep South.”

The spirits of both men remained silent as sudden strong gusts of wind came up and dark clouds blew over the gardens where they were standing.

Pope Francis and a group of Cardinals walked by and through the spirits of the two men.

“I think we’re probably in the Vatican in Rome,” Abe Lincoln finally spoke.

“I’d have to agree,” Jefferson Davis answered.

From one of the rooms overlooking the Vatican gardens, two intruders looked down- two intruders who could see the ghosts of Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis.

The intruders were Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and Peter Whitstable the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol.

“Who do you think summoned the ghosts of Abe Lincoln and Jefferson Davis to the Vatican?” Whitstable asked Van Helsing.

“Probably someone who hasn’t read the Biblical account of what happened when the Witch of Endor managed to actually summon Samuel’s spirit from the realm of the dead for King Saul of Israel,” Van Helsing answered.

“And who might that be?” Whitstable inquired.

“Most likely a Vatican Cardinal,” Van Helsing answered.

“Probably Cardinal JM,” Whitstable raised the ancient grimoire volume of necromancy he held in his hands- a volume whose autographed inscription read, “To Cardinal JM my personal favourite amongst all my devotees in the Vatican Curia of Cardinals, yours with love, Hecate, Hellenic goddess of witchcraft, sorcery and necromancy.”

“Undoubtedly,” Van Helsing nodded.

Whitstable’s wiretap sounded an alarm.

“Who is that?” Van Helsing asked.

“It’s George Soros text messaging Pope Francis,” Whitstable replied.

Van Helsing’s own Samsung Galaxy 7 smart phone went off.

“Who is that?” Whitstable asked.

“The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec,” Van Helsing replied.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 20th
2017.

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Aztec Vampiress Qonzilqointec Meets Abraham Lincoln

March 19, 2017 at 3:27 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

President Abraham Lincoln stopped when he opened his bedroom door and noticed a beautiful woman standing there.

The President was taken aback.

What would his wife Mary have to say about this?

“Um…” Lincoln decided to be diplomatic, “who are you?”.

“I am the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec,” the woman replied.

“I see,” Lincoln thought the woman must be crazy.

When she suddenly turned into a bat and flew around the room, Lincoln then decided there must be something to the woman’s story.

She turned back into a beautiful woman again.

“What do you want?” Lincoln asked.

“To thank you for opposing the Mexican-American War as a Congressman from Illinois,” she said.

“Well, you’re welcome,” Lincoln smiled.

“And for doing what you can to help Juarez against the French and the Hapsburg Emperor of Mexico Maximilian despite the fact that you’re fighting a civil war of your own,” Qonzilqointec smiled at him.

“Again you’re welcome,” Lincoln bowed.

“It’s that bitch the Egyptian vampiress Isis who’s behind the French Emperor Napoleon III and all his plans for dominating the world,” Qonzilqointec seethed.

“I did not know that,” Lincoln had to admit.

Qonzilqointec smiled, “Did you know that the Transylvanian Count Dracula is a big supporter of Confederate President Jefferson Davis?”.

Lincoln was really taken aback by that last remark.

“That,” the President said, “I definitely did not know.”

“Although,” Qonzilqointec laughed showing her pearly white teeth and incisors, “for the wrong reasons. He had heard that Jefferson Davis is an alumnus of Transylvania University totally oblivious to the fact that the Transylvania University that Jefferson Davis attended is a private university in Lexington Kentucky founded back in 1780.”

“I guess it pays to have a knowledge of history and geography,” Lincoln reflected, “even for vampires.”

“It does,” Qonzilqointec agreed.

“What are you doing here?” Lincoln asked

“I’m here to turn you into a vampire,” Qonzilqointec stepped towards him.

Lincoln stepped back.

“Only if you’d like,” Qonzilqointec stopped her approach, “You’re a great man. It would be a good thing if you could live forever.”

“I have no desire to live the life of a vampiric existence,” said Lincoln.

“Very well,” Qonzilqointec looked sad.

She bowed and left the room.

A few minutes later, Lincoln’s wife Mary Todd Lincoln entered the room.

“I hope you remember we’re going to see that play Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre on Friday.” Mary looked stern.

“Yes, dear,” Lincoln nodded, “I remember.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 19th
2017

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Waiting For The Flying Dutchman: A Poem

March 18, 2017 at 3:51 pm (Folklore, Ghost Story, Horror, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

South African Ships At Sea

The old sailor always walked down to the beach on moonlit nights like this
waiting… searching… for the Flying Dutchman…
he had once seen the ghost ship as a boy
caught sight of the Ancient Mariner that stood at the helm
that lonely cursed figure
who stirred the wheel
at the helm of the ship
followed by an albatross.

The old sailor saw six birds tonight
but no albatross
He saw seven ships of various sizes
but no Flying Dutchman

The moon, sea and sky looked ghostly haunting tonight
it would be on a night such as this
that the Flying Dutchman would surely appear again.

The sailor felt a chill at his elbow
He looked up
gazed in the distance
and saw…

“There, there,” he pointed with his finger.

The next morning the old sailor was found dead on the beach
he had made contact with the Flying Dutchman after all.

-A poem written
by Christopher’
March 18th 2017.

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Part II Phantasm: A Gothic Horror Poem

February 8, 2017 at 1:04 pm (Ghost Story, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

This is the first part of my gothic horror poem Phantasm:

https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2017/02/06/phantasm-a-gothic-horror-poem/

The opium dens of London’s Chinatown
And Holmes lay on the ground
pursuing the dragon.
For the great detective had lost his heart.
The man immune to the charms of women
had lost his heart…
to a woman.
And what a woman… Anna Li.

They attended concerts together
They attended plays together
They visited museums together
They even danced together.
Yes, Holmes the man immune to passion
had danced.

Then she had said, “Sherlock, I’m sorry but this can’t go on.”
“Can’t go on?” Sherlock asked.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock,” she said, “I don’t love you.”
“Is there another?” Sherlock asked.
Anna was silent.
“There is another,” Sherlock had pointed a finger at her.

Indeed there was another.
Anna Li had been seeing a young English Lord.
Holmes followed them.
The young Lord’s family was against any marriage to Anna Li.
“A most sensible position,” Holmes thought to himself.
But the young Lord and Anna Li were to be married.
They would elope to Gretna Green.
They were to meet in the Estate greenhouse- Holmes listened
to their conversation.
And so Holmes went there.
To the greenhouse that night.
He had opened the greenhouse door and walked in.
Fade to black.

Focus to light- 1888.
Anna Li lay dead on the greenhouse floor.
Dead beneath the box where the red roses grew.
Holmes got up off the floor.
No, the detective thought to himself.
He couldn’t have.
He wouldn’t have.
Had he the solver of crime committed a crime?
Holmes looked down at Anna Li’s body devoid of breath.
And ran out into the night.
Holmes felt it in the air.
A storm was coming.

Fade to black-1924.
Holmes felt his way into the greenhouse and turned the doorknob.
A storm was here.
Focus to light.
Lightning flash.

Katharine Chan stood there.
“Anna?” Holmes approached her.
“I am Katharine,” the young actress replied, “I’m playing Anna in the movie.”
“Is this a trick of yours, Holmes?” The old Lord approached, “Getting Katharine to dress in the actual wedding dress that my beloved Anna wore so many years ago. Is this your way of solving the case you never solved?”.

“No, no,” Holmes looked around, “It wasn’t me. I have nothing whatsoever to do with the dress Miss Chan is wearing at the moment.”
“Then, what are you doing here, Mr. Holmes?” Alfred Hitchcock asked.

“I’ve come to confess… to confess… to confess…” Holmes could not finish the sentence.
“Confess what, Mr. Holmes?” Katharine asked.
Holmes was about to speak again.
When he saw her.

The Ghost of Anna Li

Holmes gazed in horror.
Hitchcock, the English Lord, Katharine, the entire cast and crew followed Holmes’ gaze.
They all gasped.
It was Anna Li.
The ghost of Anna Li.
Wearing a ghostly dress that alternated between the white of 1888 and the yellow of 1924.

She walked towards Sherlock Holmes.

“It’s you, Anna, isn’t it?” Holmes cried,
“This burden has been too much for me.
It was after you died that I started visiting the opium dens.
It was after you died that I started taking a seven per cent solution
… of cocaine.
It wasn’t boredom I was trying to alleviate.
It was the memory of that night.
The night I came to the greenhouse
The night I came to stop your elopement
The night I stepped through the greenhouse door.
The night everything… faded to black.
The night when I came to, you lay dead on the floor…”

“What?” The Lord’s face turned ashen white,
“You were there that night, you bastard.
No wonder you never solved the case.
You murderous bastard…”

Anna Li’s ghost continued to approach Sherlock Holmes.
So close that Holmes could see the reflection in her eyes.
“It is me reflecting in your eyes, isn’t it, Anna?”
Holmes cried,
“The reflection of your murderer.”

Holmes looked into her eyes.
And gasped when he saw the reflection.
The reflection of her murderer.

Another memory came back to Sherlock Holmes.
A memory so shocking
that Holmes had suppressed it until now

Reichenbach Falls, May 4th 1891
“It appears we shall die together, Mr. Holmes,”
Moriarty laughed.
“It appears so, Moriarty,”
Holmes calmly replied.
“But I can’t have us both dying
without letting you know,”
Moriarty laughed again,
“It was I who killed the one you loved.”
“The one I loved?” Holmes looked quizzical.
“The night in the greenhouse, Mr. Holmes,”
Moriarty’s laugh became more and more hysterical,
“The night I strangled your love Anna Li.
I knew all about you and her.
How you had gone to stop her elopement.
But I got there before you.
I strangled her.
Then I saw you approaching.
I knocked you out.
Then dragged your unconscious body next to hers
so when you awoke, you’d think you killed her.
Knowing this would make your life a living Hell,
Mr. Holmes.
Your punishment for being a constant thorn in my side.”

Enraged, Holmes broke loose from Moriarty’s grip
and threw the evil Moriarty downwards to his death
over the Falls.
“For Anna,” Holmes said before he fell to the ground.
Fade to black.

“I did kill Anna,” Holmes whispered
as Anna Li’s ghost vanished
and the storm stopped,
“I killed her by loving her.
And Moriarty killed her
because I loved her.”

And with that, Holmes’ focus to light
was a fade to black.

-A gothic horror poem
written by Christopher
Friday February 3rd
2017.

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Phantasm: A Gothic Horror Poem

February 6, 2017 at 1:27 pm (Ghost Story, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

It was during the time before
Alfred Hitchcock the man
became Alfred Hitchcock the legend
A young British filmmaker recently returned from Germany
where he had studied under some of the greatest masters
of German Expressionist silent cinema
He was commissioned by an English Lord
to direct a film
based on an actual crime committed in 1888
and no this crime wasn’t the famous Ripper murders of that year

Fade to 1888:
The English lord who had commissioned Hitchcock to direct the film
was then a young man
A young English gentleman who had fallen in love
with a young Chinese woman Anna Li
and like Poe’s Annabel Li and her smitten admirer
Their love was doomed.

For the young Lord’s family was not having him
marry an Asian woman
but he refused to follow his family’s bidding
Even when his father threatened to disinherit him
the young man didn’t care

They would elope
flee to Gretna Green in Scotland
to be married by the blacksmith there
They were to meet in one of the Estate greenhouses
She in her wedding dress
and he in his best suit
and they would hire a carriage to drive them
to the Scottish border town

Focus to 1924.
Hitchcock was in the Lord’s Estate greenhouse
The one where the Lord as a young man
was to meet the beautiful Anna Li
The young director set up his cameras
The lighting
and then called the young woman
who’d be playing Anna Li into the greenhouse

Fade to 1888.
Anna Li waited in the greenhouse.
Her dress a sparkling shiny white
The door to the greenhouse opened.
Anna turned. Eyes wide with anticipation.
Expecting the young English Lord.
But it wasn’t he.

Arms and fingers seized the young Anna Li’s throat.
And choked the life out of her.
She lay at the foot of the box
where the red roses grew.
And that’s where the young Lord found her.

Focus to 1924.
The sparkling shiny white dress fades to yellow.
“I called for a white dress,”
young director Alfred screamed.
The dress the young actress Katharine Chan
(who was to play Anna Li in the film)
wore was faded yellow.
“It’s the same dress,” the (now old) English Lord gasped
“What?” Alfred looked at the English Lord.
“The very same dress Anna wore the night she was murdered.
I’d recognize it anywhere. It has now faded to yellow
but it’s the same dress.”

“What kind of sick joke is the costume department playing?”
Alfred screamed, “Bring a real white wedding dress not this…”
“It was evidence,” said the old Lord, “Evidence as part of the
criminal investigation. It was in the possession of Scotland Yard.
How did it get here?”

Lightning flashed.
The greenhouse went black.
“Oh great, now the power is out,”
Alfred threw up his hands,
“Okay, let’s call it a day. Or rather a night, people.”
Lightning flashed again.
And a man’s face could be seen at the greenhouse door.
Katharine Chan screamed.

“Who is that?” asked an exasperated Alfred Hitchcock.
“It’s the detective Scotland Yard brought in to help solve the case,”
the old Lord recognized the face.
Lightning flash.
And the man’s face could be seen again.
“And did he solve the case?” Alfred asked.
“No,” the old Lord shook his head bitterly, “he did not.”
“Who is he?” one of the cameramen asked.
Lightning flash.
The man’s face is seen again.
“Sherlock Holmes,” said the old Lord.
Lightning flash.
A deerstalker cap and a pipe can be clearly seen.

“There was a case that Sherlock Holmes never solved?” one of the lightning technicians asked.
Lightning flash again.
Disappointment showed on the face of the man in the deerstalker cap.

To be continued.

-A gothic horror poem
written by Christopher
Friday February 3rd
2017.

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Memories of Yesterday and Today

February 5, 2017 at 4:51 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) ()

Beth went running into her father’s study to give him a hug.

She stopped in her tracks.

There standing alongside her father was a man wearing a uniform.

The uniform had a very unusual insignia. On the shoulder was a patch showing a red background, a white circle and to her young mind the image of a twisted black letter X or Z with hands seemingly going in different directions.

From the demeanor of both men, it looked like her father and the man in the uniform had been heatedly arguing.

Her father looked at Beth.

“Beth,” her father cleared his throat, “I think you better go back to the playroom and play with your sister Maggie. I’ll drop by to see you later.”

Beth hurriedly left the study and shut the door behind her.

She ran past the calendar which marked today’s date February 2nd 1937.

. . .

So long ago, Beth reflected as she watched the television alongside her great-grandson.

Yet for some reason, she always remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

And she always remembered vividly the man who had been arguing with her father.

She had never seen him before. Or ever again. She had no idea who he was.

Only that he was the representative of a foreign government who had come to see her father.

She also remembered that he had a very distinct scar on his right hand. A scar that in her young mind at the time looked like two suns wrestling with one another. A light sun and a dark sun.

Beth watched her great-grandson happily play with building blocks. She glanced over at the television which was showing speeches in the European Parliament on the refugee crisis facing Europe.

She looked at the MEP who was currently speaking. An MEP who was anti-immigrant.

Beth gasped. He was the spitting image of the man her father had been heatedly arguing with 80 years earlier.

She looked at him. But of course he couldn’t be the same man. Maybe a relative. Grandson perhaps? Great-grandson?

The man raised his right hand in the air. The TV camera panned in on the right hand.

The scar. The very same scar. Two suns wrestling with one another. A light sun and a dark sun.

It WAS the same man, Beth gasped. But how was that possible? she wondered. She was a child when she last saw him. And now she was a great-grandmother. And the man didn’t look like he had aged a day.

And Queen Elizabeth II, daughter of Britain’s King George VI and great-grandmother to the young Prince George currently playing with blocks, shivered when she saw the man gazing directly into the camera- a gaze that seemed to peer directly from the TV screen out into the very room in which she was sitting. A gaze full of hatred.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 2nd
2017.

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