Vampiress Mei-ling Manchu Makes An Amazing Discovery

October 17, 2021 at 10:59 pm (Comedy, Culture, Gothic, Horror, Humour, Literature, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Vampiress Mei-ling Manchu, who drank red wine (unlike Bela Lugosi’s Dracula), was in the study of Transylvania’s Castle Dracula where she had made an amazing discovery:

Mei-ling Manchu: This is very interesting…

Mei-ling Manchu: Apparently writer Truman Capote did not write In Cold Blood…

Mei-ling Manchu: He wrote in… ink.

Mei-ling Manchu: However the same won’t be said about me.

-A vampiress Mei-ling Manchu
Halloween photo montage
written by Christopher
Sunday October 17th
2021.

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Hudson Valley Halloween Horror

October 5, 2021 at 10:58 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, Horror, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Vincent: I’m afraid, cousin Jenny, that cousin Floyd will be unable to dine with us this evening.

Jenny: Why ever not?

Vincent: He had the misfortune of being eaten by a black jaguar in the woods last night.

Jenny: A black jaguar in the Hudson River Valley?

Vincent: No doubt the poor creature was a long ways from home. Which may explain why not much was left of Floyd when he was found. Only his right ear and the thumb on his left hand which was tattooed with a drawing of Napoleon. How they were able to identify him.

Jenny: How positively awful.

Vincent: I’ll say. He owed me $100. Money that I suppose now will never be repaid.

Jenny: What was he doing walking in the woods?

Vincent: No one is sure. The only thing known for sure is that he was wearing a pink nightgown while walking in the woods.

Jenny: So that’s why they called him Pink Floyd.

Vincent: Undoubtedly.

Jenny: Whatever happened to that nutty woman they found walking in the woods last week?

Vincent: The one who claimed to have come from the year 2021 and believed herself to be a female Christ saying if people vaccinated themselves, they were Apostles of her love.

“That’s the one,” Jenny nodded.

“I had her burnt at the stake as a witch,” Vincent answered.

“Burnt at the stake?” Jenny was shocked.

“Yes, there was some old wood I was wanting to get rid of,” Vincent nodded, “so I killed two birds with one stone.”

A pair of large black ravens fell from the sky.

“She was a witch?” Jenny turned pale.

“Yes the demons Moloch, Baal and Baphomet visited her room at the village inn,” Vincent explained, “where they jabbed the innkeeper’s daughter with a needle and she died.”

“Awful,” Jenny shook her head.

“There is much evil in the land,” Vincent noted just as the clock was 5 minutes shy of twelve, “Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour is close at hand and whosoever shall be found without the soul for getting down must stand and face the hounds of Hell and rot inside a corpse’s shell.”

“There’s a three headed dog out there,” Jenny gasped as she looked out the window.

“That would be Cerberus,” Vincent explained.

Vincent went over to his sitting room book shelf and grabbed a volume of ancient Koine Greek and looked up the words for “Sit” and “Good boy”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 5th
2021.

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Reblog of A Distant Mirror

August 4, 2021 at 10:34 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

It was on August 4th 1914 that the First World War began when Great Britain and her Empire declared war on Germany.

The evening before, August 3rd 1914, British Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey did everything he could to prevent war.

Sadly he didn’t succeeed.


The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

Dracul Van Helsing

A Distant Mirror

The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka standing in front of a mirror in her London apartment over a 100 years ago.

Back in 1912, the immortal Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka had obtained a job as a stenographer to Britain’s Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey.

Grey’s career as UK Foreign Secretary lasted exactly 11 years from December 10th 1905 to December 10th 1916.

When Sir Edward Grey went to receive his seals of office as Foreign Secretary from King Edward VII on December 11th 1905, a dense fog hung over London; a fog so thick that Grey had to use the pavement kerb to feel his way from Buckingham Palace back to the Foreign Office.

Eleven years to the day, he was back at the Palace, this time to relinquish his seals of office to King George V.

And London was once again shrouded in fog.

It was as…

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Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka On Night of The Wolf Moon 2021

January 28, 2021 at 11:59 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )


The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka on the Night of The Wolf Moon

The January full moon is called the Wolf Moon and on this night a wolf was terrorizing the countryside.

It so happened that the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was in possession of the battle axe of William Wallace the great Scottish warrior and hero of the 1st War of Scottish Independence who defeated the English Army at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in September 1297.

She also wore the painted red seal of Wallace on her head, left eye and face as she wandered through the snowy woods in search of the wolf terror.

Then Tanaka came face to face with the wolf terror.

She recognized the beast right away from ancient and medieval drawings.

It was the Norse wolf Fenrir.

It was a good thing for Tanaka that she had the great William Wallace’s battle axe with her.

Tanaka threw the Wallacian battle axe and beheaded the wolf.

The wolf’s severed head growled in the now bloody snow surrounding it after it had left its body.

In the Lupine language, the wolf had said through its growling, “I hate it when that happens.”

. . .

The Norse god Odin was staying in a cheap motel room as he would be attending an important meeting the next few days.

The only places in this town where he was staying had cheap motel rooms.

Odin had missplaced his spectacles so he was inserting a contact lens into his sole remaining eye.

He was wanting to watch the 1940 movie Waterloo Bridge starring Vivien Leigh and Robert Taylor on television.

As Odin tried to get the contact lens out of the tiny glass bottle container that it was in, he reflected back to a time in Australia when he had accidentally inserted a very small circumcized foreskin into his eye after removing it from a tiny glass bottle container.

“It belonged to some pervert who looked even worse than you did when you dressed up in drag,” Odin had said to his son Thor at the time.

After Odin had got the contact lens into his eye on this Night of the Wolf Moon, Thor came to inform his father that both Loki and Fenrir had been beheaded.

Loki had apparently been beheaded yesterday and Fenrir had been beheaded this evening.

“So,” Odin smiled, “We may not have to fight the Battle of Ragnarok after all.”

Odin and Thor then ordered pizza and take out Chinese food that they had delivered to their motel room and then proceeded to watch the 1940 version of the film Waterloo Bridge on the room’s TV.

Thor despite his tough guy macho image was bawling and sobbing like a baby by the time the movie was over.

Odin phoned down to the front desk to have another box of kleenex tissues brought up to the room.

“I’ll never be able to stand at that spot on London’s Waterloo Bridge again without bursting into tears,” Thor sobbed, “I won’t be able to look at a Buddha good luck charm without bursting into tears either.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 28th
2021.

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Selena

December 1, 2020 at 11:31 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Life, love, Plays, Poetry, Romance, theatre) (, , , , )

The old playhouse was closing
It had a successful run throughout its long life
As a playhouse theatre
For 25 years
From comedies to tragedies
Romance to dramas
Several hits
And a few flops

It was a victim of its own success
For so many people
Were wanting to subscribe to its season
Of plays
This old playhouse
Could not seat all those who wanted to attend
What its company of performers and directors
Stage hands and lighting technicians
Had to offer.

So last night was the last performance
In the old playhouse
And now this 1st of December 1945
The new playhouse with new seats
And a much larger seating capacity
For a much larger audience
Would be opening its run
Of Dickens’ classic tale
For Christmas
A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol
With Ebenezer Scrooge
And his longsuffering clerk
Bob Cratchit
And Tiny Tim
And the ghost of Scrooge’s
7-years dead partner
Jacob Marley
With chains upon his feet
And the Ghosts of Christmas Past
Present
and Yet To Come

Selena was an actress

She wasn’t appearing in A Christmas Carol
But she had appeared in the last play
Ever performed in this old playhouse
The play that had finished its run last night
Wuthering Heights
Emily Bronte’s classic tale
of tragic doomed love
Of lovers who went far beyond star-crossed
Trying to reach the heavens
And end up
Falling
Into the abyss.
Of ghosts
And knocking outside the window
And howling winds
And desolate moors
And souls that are damned
And what happens when compassion is lacking
And revenge is always served
Hot or cold.

Selena had played Cathy
The love of Heathcliff’s life
And the woman who loved Heathcliff
Hot love
Passionate love
Forbidden love
The love only hinted at by Emily Bronte
As if Orestes and Electra
Had come from tragic Mycenae of old
To perform unfinished business
On the early 19th Century
Yorkshire Moors

Selena sat on coverings
On the sofa
Where she as Cathy
Had sat with the man
Who was Cathy’s husband
But not Cathy’s love or lover
Edgar Linton
In Bronte’s classic tale

And then
As if in one magic moment
A lighting technician
Suddenly shone the spotlight
On Selena
(Who was dressed to attend
The new theatre playhouse
Christmas Carol
Opening night party)
As she sat on that sofa

And that spotlight
Shone on one promising young actress
Who had performed many great performances
In that old playhouse
And soon would perform many more
In a new playhouse theatre

The spotlight would soon fade
And the lights would come down
For good
on the old playhouse
It may not have been Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre of London
But it had been the town’s old playhouse
Bringing joy and sadness
Heartache and hearbreak
To so many spectators
And audiences over the years

Like many old buildings
This old playhouse
Had character
And thus would be missed
And its old plays
And many performances
Would only be played again
In the memories
of the theatre
Of the mind

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday December 1st
2020.

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Faustina

November 19, 2020 at 11:40 pm (Arts, Culture, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )


Faustina with her cat Lenore Belle Noir in front of the fireplace in her room in Vienna

Flames in the fireplace
Flames that burn
Like thousands of tiny suns
Sending out a cosmic glow
Across the universe
Sending out heat
And ripple effects

Those flames so like her memories
That burn and scorch her mind
In the neverending passages of time
When will her memories become
Like the blackened embers
That sit below the base
of the fire
Becoming galactic black holes
That never emit any light
And become darkness
And a huge void of nothingness
That brings relief
To neverending pain.

Faustina had dressed like she was going to a ball
A cascading symphony of Strauss Waltzes
Dancing in a joyous celebration
Of the Blue Danube
and the Vienna Woods
But there were no Viennese waltzes
And grand balls happening
In this time of Covid

For the Covid virus did decree
like Kubla Khan
At those now forgotten gates of Xanadu
But its decree differered
From that cultured Emperor
For it decreed
And health and political authorities assented
That henceforth
Humans must only exist
And not live

They must no longer interact
No song, dinner or dance
They must cover half their face
With a mask
For if the image of God
Could not be erased from humanity
Then it must at least be distorted
Or cut in half

It is for your own good they tell us,
Faustina thought,
But did not despots throughout history
Always say the same?

On this night
Faustina wore a beautiful white silvery
Evening dress
And necklace
Imagining she’d meet a handsome prince
Or duke or count
But instead her only true friend
Her cat
Lenore Belle Noire
Sat on the train
Of her dress
As the pair
Listened to Strauss waltzes
On the old Gramophone

Lenore Belle Noir
Looked at her mistress
Trying to emit the power of healing
Through her kind and compassionate eyes
To heal her mistress’ tortured soul

For Faustina was the daughter
Of Johann Georg Faust (1480-1541)
Known to history as Faust
If one liked Goethe
Or Doctor Faustus
If one preferred
Christopher Marlowe

Her mother was Hecate
Greek goddess of witchcraft
Who had fallen hopelessly
In love
With that dark tortured soul
Faust
He who had sold his soul
To Mephistopheles

They had made love in the 1580s
And at midnight on the evening of
August 7th to 8th 1588
The night Francis Drake
Defeated the Spanish Armada
Faustina had been born

Born to Hecate
Born to Faust
Born to immortality
For that had been the curse
Inherited from her parents
For immortality for her
Had been a curse
And not a blessing

So many memories
So many painful memories
How long would they burn
In her mind
Like the flames in the fireplace?
How long before they finally
Turn into glowing embers
And at last mercifully into darkened ash?

The sound of the clock
Ticking on the wall
Provided no answer
Would that it did
Would that it did
Tick tock! Tick tock!

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 19th
2020.

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Reflections About The Year 2020 On A Mist Filled October Evening

October 26, 2020 at 10:24 pm (Gothic, Horror, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

2020- “The year that just keeps on giving”
Many say in the worst sense of that expression
20/20 vision when visiting the optometrist
means perfect vision
Perhaps in this year of 2020
We have achieved perfect vision
And don’t like what we see

We’re like Dorian Gray
The character in Oscar Wilde’s novel
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Who after living a lifetime
of sin, debauchery and crime
After his portrait was created
Finally unveils his portrait
to see what the state of his soul
looks like

And he’s shocked to see
what he sees there

In this year
Humanity like Dorian
is finally seeing the portrait
unveiled of itself
by the winds of 2020
and does not like
what it sees

But what it sees is a reflection
of what it truly is.


“Here’s to Dorian and all that he has left behind.”

-A poem written by Christopher
Monday October 26th
2020.

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Dinner At Tiffany’s: Leprechaun of The Dance

October 16, 2020 at 10:59 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Tiffany Twisted: Formerly the sensuous witch of the Hotel California
and now the sensuous witch of Sleepy Hollow

Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun had been invited to dinner in the Inn room across the hall from his own.

The room that had been rented to one Tiffany Twisted.

Yaldabaoth bathed, showered and shaved.

Then he put on his Irish Spring Mist of The River Shannon aftershave cologne followed by his best green tuxedo and little green bow tie.

Then he walked out the door.

Bucephalus Reborn the walking, talking and dancing zombie black horse thought to himself, “I wonder if I should have told him he forgot to put his trousers on.”

A thought with which Joe Biden campaign staffers were quite familiar with when it came to their own candidate.

Yaldabaoth knocked on the door.

“Come in, Yaldabaoth,” the sensuous voice of Tiffany Twisted beckoned.

Yaldabaoth opened the door and saw this vision:

“Wow, do you ever look hot,” Yaldabaoth felt like President Teddy Roosevelt at this very moment.

“I see you came prepared,” Tiffany smiled like the siren laced rocks of the eastern Mediterranean.

Yaldabaoth looked down and his face turned red, “Faith and begorrah, I seem to have forgotten my trousers.”

He grabbed a copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses off the room’s bookshelf and held it in front of his shamrock deco decorated underwear.

“It’s all right, Yaldabaoth,” she smiled like dawn rising over the hill of Tara, “I like a leprechaun who knows what he wants.”

Tiffany dimmed the lights and started lighting candles.

In the background could be heard Cher’s voice singing on an old 45,

Dark lady laughed and danced and lit the candles one by one
Danced to her gypsy music till her brew was done
Dark lady played back magic till the clock struck on the twelve
She told me more about me than I knew myself.

When the candles were lit, Tiffany and Yaldabaoth drank red wine and ate a Guinness laced Irish potato casserole.

For dessert, they had pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top.

“I hope this pie wasn’t made with my friend Friedrich Wotan Wiesbaden’s head,” Yaldabaoth commented as he licked the whipped cream off Tiffany’s toes.

His newly formed acquaintance Friedrich Wotan Wiesbaden was the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow and had a pumpkin jack o’ lantern for a head.

“It wasn’t,” Tiffany assurred him with tender kisses.

The clock was approaching 12.

“Let’s dance,” Tiffany put on her record player again.

Tiffany reached for Yaldabaoth’s lucky shamrock.

The voice on the record sang,

I was working in the lab late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise

He did the mash, he did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
He did the mash, it caught on in a flash
He did the mash, he did the monster mash

At that moment the Headless Horseman walked in unaware that he was entering the wrong room.

When he saw what the leprechaun and the sensuous witch were doing, he screamed, “I’m blind. I’m blind.”

He turned out into the hall, ran down the stairs, tripped over his feet, landed on the floor and his pumpkin head came off and rolled towards the grandfather clock that was just starting to strike 12.

“Mercy,” the innkeeper muttered at the front desk, “This never happened at the Hotel California.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday October 16th
2020.

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Dr. Jekyll and Miss Allatallahbel

September 26, 2020 at 10:41 pm (Gothic, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

Dr. Henry Jekyll sat drinking tea in a tea shop in Whitby, Yorkshire.

He had changed his name to Dr. Henry Boleyn after having fled London.

His alter ego Edward Hyde kept spinning out of control.

So he faked his death.

A friend of his got the writer Robert Louis Stevenson to write a book saying that he Jekyll (and his evil alter ego Hyde) were now dead.

Jekyll had contacted the infamous London crime overlord (and a brilliant mathematician) Prof. James Moriarty for help.

Moriarty using his mathematical genius had managed to come up with a formula for a serum that kept Jekyll’s Hyde permanently at bey.

Jekyll decided to move to Whitby for peace and quiet.

All was going well until bodies started showing up on the beach at Whitby.

Their bodies completely drained of blood.

Jekyll worried that somehow Moriarty’s serum was starting to lose its potency and that Hyde had re-emerged again for a dreadful new game of Hyde and seek.

Jekyll tried to reach Moriarty by messenger for help but Moriarty was currently playing a game of hide and seek himself with a London consulting detective named Sherlock Holmes.

One night Jekyll went for a walk along the river when he came upon this vision:

Allatallahbel the vampiress priestess of Baal

The vampiress attacked Jekyll, bit him on the neck and completely drained him of his blood.

On this night at the hands of the vampiress Allatallahbel, Jekyll had nowhere to Hyde.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday September 26th
2020.

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The Beautiful Annabel Lee

August 14, 2020 at 11:08 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Literature, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )


The beautiful Annabel Lee walked up the stairs of the old mansion

Carson Cody Albion the Los Angeles Private Eye was working on an unusual case.

He had recently been hired by a Dr. Lionel Jarrett who was a Professor of Classics at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada to check out an old allegedly haunted mansion in San Francisco.

Dr. Jarrett, from Albion’s understanding of the man, often engaged in unusual research.

Jarrett had recently tracked down an oil painting of the Greek mythological tragic figure Medusa that had been painted by writer Oscar Wilde.

Albion had received an email from Dr. Jarrett last night.

The collector of rare and unusual antiquities had just purchased the Wilde painting of Medusa from an art gallery in London, England called The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

In addition to tracking down Wilde’s paintings of mythological themes, Dr. Jarrett was also interested in the writings and life of writer Edgar Allan Poe.

Poe apparently knew a woman named Annabel Lee in Baltimore in 1849, Dr. Jarrett discovered from examining a collection of letters from a family called Lee.

Annabel found the writer somewhat creepy and therefore left Baltimore for California.

Annabel told a friend to tell Poe that she (Annabel) had died so he wouldn’t follow her to California.

Poe apparently didn’t take the news of Annabel Lee’s death very well.

Although he did write a good poem from it.

Even creepily imagining that they had known one another since youth.

Annabel Lee went to San Francisco where she apparently bought herself a beautiful mansion.

A few years later she died in an unusual thunder storm when she was struck by lightning.

People to this day, apparently, still report seeing her ghost walking up the stairs of her San Francisco mansion.

Dr. Jarrett had asked Albion to visit the mansion to see if he could get a photo of her ghost.

Albion had gone to the mansion with an old black and white camera.

At the stroke of midnight, she appeared walking up the elegant stairwell of the old mansion.

. . .

“You know what’s crazy, man?” Joe Biden in his basement was addressing his pet pot smoking desert cactus plant Sweet Dementia, “I had a dream last night where the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe appeared to me and put a ghostly spectral millstone around my neck. Why would he put a millstone around my neck?”.

Sweet Dementia said nothing but continued to exhale marijuana smoke.

. . .

As Carson Cody Albion was taking a photo of the beautiful Annabel Lee’s ghost, British MP Renfield R. Renfield was in London reading a dossier that the Set Enterprises Intelligence Unit had put together on Joe Biden’s Vice-Presidential running mate Kamala Harris.

Apparently when Ms. Harris was San Francisco District Attorney from 2004 to 2011, she refused to prosecute cases of priests’ sexual abuse within the Archdiocese of San Francisco.

Not one single case did she prosecute.

She was the only District Attorney among all the District Attorneys in the top 50 metropolitan areas across the U.S. not to lay any charges against Catholic clergy for valid accusations of sexual abuse.

If you looked at the top 50 metropolitan areas in the U.S during that time period of 2004 to 2011, 49 of those prosecuted at least one case, the sole exception being Kamala Harris in San Francisco.

Who prosecuted not a single case.

After first being elected District Attorney, Ms. Harris terminated her predecessor’s plans to publicly release “clergy abuse files” naming names of priests accused of sexual abuse.

Her predecessor Terence Hallinan talked about the fact that he was going to pursue prosecutions. He was going to release records to the public as had been done in various other jurisdictions across the country.

Unfortunately for Mr. Hallinan and the numerous victims of priestly sexual abuse in the San Francisco Archdiocese, Hallinan lost the 2003 election to Kamala Harris.

When Kamala Harris came in, she deep-sixed those documents and put them under seal so they could never be released publicly.

Why would Kamala Harris do this?, Renfield wondered as he turned the page.

The next page had the answer.

The law firms and lawyers who represented the Archdiocese of San Francisco gave large contributions to Harris’ political campaign.

Some of them had never given contributions to a District Attorney electoral race before but they loaded up her campaign coffers.

Money talks like the old saying goes.

Renfield read further.

. . .

Kamala Harris screamed when she woke up in her hotel room.

For standing there was the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe holding a ghostly spectral millstone.

Poe’s ghost put the spectral ghostly millstone around her neck.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday August 14th
2020.

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