Justin Trudeau Encounters A Mesoamerican Deity In His Pot Smoking Antique Mirror

March 12, 2020 at 10:54 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Politics, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Justin Trudeau Encounters A Mesoamerican Deity In His Pot Smoking Antique Mirror

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau had cancelled a First Ministers’ emergency meeting with provincial premiers, territorial leaders and indigenous leaders to discuss the Coronavirus because he himself may have come down with the Coronavirus.

His wife Sophie Gregoire Trudeau had returned from a speaking engagement in London, England last night and had not been feeling well.

She self isolated while awaiting results from a test for Coronavirus.

Justin decided it might be a good example to self-isolate as well.

So he had spent the day re-enacting the Battle of Trafalgar with an armada of rubber ducks in his bathtub.

His wife Sophie had phoned him from the room next door an hour ago and said she had tested positive for the Coronavirus.

“Shit,” Justin thought to himself.

Now he might have to self-isolate a lot longer than he intended.

He walked out to the greenhouse to visit his marijuana inhaling and exhaling antique mirror named Magical Mystery Tour.

He was surprised to see the mirror was reflecting both himself and the greenhouse plants around the mirror instead of the mysterious rare and used book store at the corner of a foreboding dark alley and desolate fog filled street in London, England the way it usually did.

Since he could see his own reflection in the mirror tonight, he decided to put on some blackface since he always felt better wearing blackface for some reason.

A psychiatrist once told him that this feeling was probably due to “penis envy”.

Justin thought that was strange since he thought it was only some women who were prone to penis envy.

The Canadian Prime Minister noticed that the gardener had left the television on just above the coconut tree in the greenhouse.

It showed an old Tarzan movie whereby Tarzan was tied to a tree and an African tribal chief was holding up a 9 inch ruler and pointing at Tarzan and shaking his head and laughing.

“I wonder what message the universe will try to tell me tonight,” Justin thought as he reached for his box of black shoe polish that was hidden underneath the hyacinth plant.

Justin went over and looked at himself in the mirror and started putting the black shoe polish all over his face.

“I now look like Harry Belafonte,” the former drama teacher and amateur thespian grinned at himself in the mirror.

Soon his reflection vanished into the blackness of night emerging from the mirror.

An image of what looked to be a sinister Mesoamerican deity appeared in the mirror as huge whiffs of marijuana smoke came out of the wooden sides of the mirror.

The head of the deity was a sinister looking bluish green skull with a black stripe and a yellow stripe painted across his face.

His right foot was an obsidian mirror.

Although occasionally his right foot would metamorphose into a snake.

When this happened, the obsidian mirror would show up on the deity’s chest instead and sometimes smoke would emanate from the mirror.

Justin entered the antique late Victorian/early Edwardian mirror named Magical Mystery Tour and leaned his painted blackface down to inhale the pot smoke emanating from the obsidian mirror on the deity’s chest.

In the background behind the Mesoamerican deity, the Great Bear constellation shone brightly in the night sky.

In the Great Bear constellation directly behind the deity danced a spotted skin jaguar.

The jaguar sang his own paraphrased version of an old Harry Belafonte song,

“Night-o, night-o, night time come and you oughta go home…”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 12th
2020.

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Reblog of Ghost Ship: The Flying Dutchman Sails On and On

March 5, 2020 at 10:25 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, History, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

A supernatural narrative poem and vampire novel chapter I wrote over a year and 3 months ago:

Dracul Van Helsing

On a moonlit night the sky’s spotlight
casts its rays down on tonight’s performer
a sailing ship rising out of the mist
in a globe theatre where sea and sky do meet
From underneath the water Poseidon’s hand
seems to rise from below the depths
lifting the old Dutchman like a pearl of great price
as an offering and a gift to Diana’s lantern in the night sky

Oh ship of mighty oak and sturdy deck and towering masts
what a price thou hast paid
for having for a master one Captain Hendrick Van der Decken
He who would make league and sup with the Devil
to have the fastest ship that would sail to the East Indies and back

And so there at the Cape of Good Hope
ship, master and crew would lose all hope
as Captain Hendrick stood on deck at the wheel
and cursed the wind…

View original post 673 more words

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Coronavirus Panic, Gnostic God Abraxas, Qonzilqointec, Ho Babylon Minh and The Pascal Sacrifice On Mount Moriah

March 4, 2020 at 11:55 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Coronavirus Panic, Gnostic God Abraxas, Qonzilqointec, Ho Babylon Minh and The Pascal Lamb Sacrifice On Mount Moriah

The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec living as a vampiric immortal isn’t worried about contracting the Coronavirus

The same was not true of the state of California where after only one death, the governor had declared a State of Emergency over the Coronavirus.

Outside a COSTCO store in the State of California, a long line up of people were waiting to rush in to buy emergency food supplies and prepping items as well as surgical face masks and bottles of hand sanitizer (even though the latter items had already been sold out).

A man dressed in American Revolutionary War era attire and riding a horse was going throughout the huge COSTCO parking lot and shouting in Paul Revere like fashion, “The Coronavirus is coming. The Coronavirus is coming.”

On a nearby city street, a woman dressed in a chicken costume with what appeared to be a small cloud encircling her chicken head was busy shouting, “The Coronavirus is falling. The Coronavirus is falling.”

Inside the COSTCO store, angered customers were shouting over the fact that all surgical face masks had been sold out and by their attitude were thus totally ignoring the U.S. Surgeon-General’s recent request that the U.S. general public refrain from buying surgical face masks.

At the cigarette counter, there were long line ups of people waiting to buy cigarettes thus totally ignoring a U.S. Surgeon-General’s report from the early 1960s that smoking cigarettes can cause lung cancer.

Meanwhile back in the surgical face mask aisle, the store manager announced that there was a supply of Halloween face masks that had been found and were now available in the Toy Department.

The manager was trampled and killed in the subsequent rush over to the Toy Department.

Two women eventually got into a huge fight over the last Halloween mask available -an Al Gore mask from the year 2000 with a Made In Florida dangling chad hanging from his mouth.

Meanwhile at the Vatican, Pope Francis was calling for algor-ethics at a Vatican Conference On Ethics In Algorithms and The Future of AI (Artificial Intelligence).

Speeding down a California freeway while being chased by a group of sinister government Men In Black was a Japanese female sex robot called Akira who was totally ignoring Pope Francis’ call for algor-ethics as she put a spiked high-heeled pedal to the metal and hit the gas on her huge carbon emissions polluting hummer.

Her front seat partner – a man called Paul- who was dressed up the way Jesus of Nazareth might look in a church Easter Passion play- was desperately reading a book called Re-Imagining Mind Control For Dummies.

In the back seat, a professorial looking type (who was really an ET from outer space) named Lassetter was taking huge swigs from a phallus shaped bottle of whisky.
Sitting next to him was an Afghan War vet named Billy-Bob who was coming down with a severe case of PTSD while looking at the stock market trading app on his smartphone and seeing how bad the market was falling and share prices were diving over the latest Coronavirus fears.

Watching comfortably the highway car chase on television in his living room at home was America’s leading (and only) Irish Jewish science-fiction writer of note – George Finneganburg.

Said an astounded George Finneganburg, “My Sci-Fi novel is really quite literally coming to life in this particular California car chase.”

. . .

Standing in front of a statue of Baphomet whose feet were covered by aborted babies, Senate Minority leader Sen. Chuck Schumer of New York threatened U.S. Supreme Court Justices Neil Gorsuch and Brett Kavanaugh if they upheld a pro-life law from Louisiana.

“I want to tell you, Gorsuch, I want to tell you, Kavanaugh, you have released the whirlwind and you will pay the price,” Schumer thundered into the microphone as bats, locusts and scorpions flew out of his mouth while he spoke.

The ghost of Adolf Eichmann (dispensatationally released from Tartarus at the requests of the demons Baal and Baphomet) applauded in the background.

. . .

Meanwhile on Mount Moriah (also known as the Temple Mount) the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith (who was also known as the Lady Moriah) was directing a whirlwind to blow around the Mount.

A few weeks earlier the ancient gnostic god Abraxas (who had the head of a rooster, the arms and torso of a man, and the legs were two slithering serpents) had approached some Kabbalistic rabbis who belonged to the 21st Century Sanhedrin and told them to sacrifice a paschal lamb at an altar on the Temple Mount for Passover this year for the first time in 2000 years.

“To sacrifice a paschal lamb now will show that the imposter so-called Christ Jesus of Nazareth was not the Paschal Lamb sacrificed for all time,” Abraxas told the cheering rabbis.

A request for a permit from the Israeli government to perform the ceremony was then asked by the Sanhedrin.

Today at the Vatican, the gnostic god Abraxas appeared to the Communist and homosexual predatory Cardinals who now ran the Vatican under Pope Francis and told them his idea.

The pro-Francis group of Cardinals applauded since they didn’t really believe that Jesus of Nazareth was truly God Incarnate in the flesh never mind being the ultimate and final Paschal Lamb sacrifice for sin.

. . .

Now sporting blue hair, the Vietnamese vampiress and notably unique Shakespearian actress Ho Babylon Minh who would be playing a voodoo queen in a New Orleans style zombie and voodoo themed adaptation of Shakespeare’s MacBeth slated for tonight at the Pantages Theatre (directed by the ghost of Orson Welles) showed up in her car outside the doors of the theatre.

On his way into the show for tonight’s performance, British MP Renfield R. Renfield was asked about yesterday’s Super Tuesday primary in the U.S.

“Does this mean the end of Trotskyite Marxist Bernie Sander’s Presidential aspirations?” A member of the Press asked the MP.

“Well,” Renfield replied as he carried a silver handled walking stick, “Given the fact that we are all living in extremely surreal times (surreal as in a Salvador Dali painting of Australia’s infamous Uncle Ernie dressed as Cleopatra and embracing a giant asp), we must realize anything can happen. Bernie Sanders not only winning the Democratic nomination but winning the Presidency. In these surreal times, expect the Unexpected.”

Renfield kicked a snake with a rooster’s head out of the way as he entered the theatre.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 4th
2020.

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Edgar Allan Poe’s Ghost, Prince Prospero, Lady Death and A Vietnamese Vampiress Lady MacBeth

February 29, 2020 at 11:45 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Literature, Mystery, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Edgar Allan Poe’s Ghost, Prince Prospero, Lady Death and A Vietnamese Vampiress Lady MacBeth

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was at Toronto Pearson International Airport to fly back to the United Kingdom from Canada after spending a brief time in the land of beavers, the maple leaf and legalized marijuana to examine for himself how a Trotskyite Marxist insurrection fared against an incompetent government.

As Marxist Trotskyite agitators and self-proclaimed indigenous warriors blockaded roads and railways and set fires all over the place, Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau stood in front of his pot smoking antique mirror modelling one of Australian Uncle Ernie’s sequinned pink g-strings and wondered what the self-proclaimed Wet’ suwet’en hereditary chiefs would think if he showed up at a meeting with them wearing only this.

Before boarding the plane, Renfield told members of the Canadian media assembled there at the airport,

“Under the amazingly incompetent leadership of Justin Trudeau, I have seen Canada’s future…”

“… And it is Nicolas Maduro’s Venezuela,” he added before boarding the plane.

. . .

While lying in his bed, Donald Trump was visited by an entity identifying itself as the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe.

Poe’s ghost saluted Trump and said, “Hail Prince Prospero.”

“Who the Hell is Prince Prospero?” Trump asked as he struggled to put his toupee on.

“You are,” Poe’s ghost answered.

Outside in the White House Rose Garden, Lady Death strolled about.

. . .

Meanwhile inside the library of an exclusive gentlemen’s club in the City of London, Vietnamese vampiress Ho Babylon Minh (vampiress granddaughter of the late Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh), who had recently defected from Beijing to the Republic of Taiwan, was waiting for the People’s Republic of China Ambassador to the UK to show up.

Ho Babylon Minh had just come from a West London theatre where she had been playing Lady MacBeth carrying the real dagger that had been used to non-medically euthanize a leading London stage actor playing the role of Scotland’s King Duncan in what would be that leading stage actor’s last ever performance (where he would also be unavailable for a final curtain call).

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Saturday February 29th
2020.

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Carnevale In Venice: Masque of The Dread Death

February 25, 2020 at 11:43 pm (Fantasy, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Carnevale In Venice: Masque of The Dread Death

Coronavirus spreads 
like jam on bread 
China, Iran, South Korea,
Northern Italy
Wide clusters of cases

Authorities decree 
no carnevale masque balls
In Venice 
The night before Ash Wednesday 
Thus Lent will arrive early for many

Mardi Gras in New Orleans
Parades and music 
Party goers dance 
Voodoo spells 
Driven away by sounds of jazz
Many dollars are spent on the French Quarter

In Canada, Shrove Tuesday
aka National Pancake Day
Justin Trudeau with 
post-Magical Mystery Tour pot smoke munchies 
eats two dozen pancakes 
covered in patriotic maple syrup 
Goes to give speech on how to end child hunger 
Ends up with a loss for words

But in Venice 
no joy on the canal
Coronavirus has come out

But the children of the night 
are natural rebels
Like wolves outside a Transylvanian nobleman’s castle 
What music they make

They put on masks
Ladies in lovely Renaissance style evening gowns
Men wearing white wigs 
And wearing Age of Louis XIV attire 
likewise mask themselves 

Rent gondolas
And sail canals of Venice 
In defiance of authorities
Dance on the streets

One son of Night 
wearing a New York Knicks
t-shirt walks around singing,
“I am what I am”
On his face he wears the Greek mask of Comedy
At the back of his head the Greek mask of Tragedy 

He goes up to people with his happy smiling laughing face
He touches them gently
They fall to ground dead
He walks away 
And you can see the sad crying unhappy face 

He goes into an elegant Venetian hotel 
And up to a room
Where he opens the door

And there is the Greek goddess Hera
The Queen of Olympus

Hera speaks,
Thanatos, son of Nyx,
You have turned a carnevale cruise 
into Charon’s ferry ride across the Styx.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday February 25th
2020.

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Countess Draculina, Justin, A Gender Confused Wombat and A Pot Smoking Walrus

February 24, 2020 at 11:09 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Countess Draculina, Justin, A Gender Confused Wombat and A Pot Smoking Walrus

Justin entered the mirror.

And felt the wet sand under his feet.

What happened to his shoes and socks he wondered?

The Basilides gnostic god Abraxas had them on his two feet (which were heads of serpents) in another dimension.

Walking through two inter-dimensional portal mirrors on the same night can cause stuff to go missing.

Which was always the noted Australian entertainer Uncle Ernie’s explanation whenever his g-string style jock strap fell off while he was on the stage in his drag queen show and the audience could see what he had (or lack thereof!).

Justin looked at the vampiress who stood before him.

“A little bird tells me that you’re the Countess Draculina the daughter of Count Dracula,” Justin spoke with his usual meandering manner of speaking.

Countess Draculina leaned forward and shouted “Boo!”.

The little hummingbird on Justin’s shoulder flew away.

“I didn’t know there was a full moon tonight,” Justin looked at the full moon and the Scottish castle behind Countess Draculina.

“That is an illusion,” Draculina laughed, “caused by a great searchlight (invented by Nikola Tesla) casting its full moon signal into the air.”

“Will signs and wonders never cease?” Justin used a fine tooth comb to remove gray hairs from his hair.

“Those signs and wonders will soon increase and increase,” Draculina licked the blood off her lips just as an Australian wombat (who was actually Uncle Ernie shapeshifting from another dimension) crawled up and licked the blood off her breasts atop her low-cut gothic attire mini dress.

“And what is the purpose of all these signs and wonders?” Justin asked as he inhaled pot smoke that was being exhaled by a pot smoking Arctic walrus that had just crawled on to the shore from the sea.

The ghost of John Lennon appeared on one of the high towers of the distant Scottish castle and began singing a paraphrased version of one of his old hits, “Imagine all the people worshipping the Antichrist… someday you’ll join us and the world will be as one.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher 
Monday February 24th
2020.

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Inside Magical Mystery Tour

February 23, 2020 at 11:36 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic romance, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Inside Magical Mystery Tour 

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was inside his greenhouse.

He was staring at the late Victorian/early Edwardian era antique mirror that stood in the place where his pot smoking and cannabis exhaling desert cactus plant Strawberry Fields Forever had once stood.

A mirror that reflected neither Justin’s image nor the area of the greenhouse around him.

For within its glass was the image of a closed rare and used book store at the intersection of a dark alley and desolate London street at night.

“Where’s my pot smoking cactus plant?” Justin asked, “I thought I was getting a pot smoking cactus plant called Magical Mystery Tour?”.

“Enter the mirror, stupid,” a voice from the bookshop inside the mirror spoke.

“Did you just tell me to enter the mirror?” Justin asked.

“Brilliant deduction,” the voice answered.

Justin walked into the mirror and found himself standing at the corner of desolate street and dark alley in London.

The only thing within his sight was the closed used book store.

Mist which smelled a lot like pot smoke filled the dark London street.

He decided to try to open the door of the closed book store that was called Tezcatlipoca’s Antiquarium and Rare Books.

Sure enough the door opened and a bell above the door rang indicating a customer was entering the shop.

The old shop owner who was a skeleton covered in cob webs looked up from the cob web and dust covered book he was reading called The Brothers Grimm Grimoire.

He got up to greet Justin and his skull fell off.

Whereupon the rest of his bones fell apart as well.

A volume called Old Yale University Alumni fell off one of the book shelves and landed on top of the skull and bones.

Justin walked to the back of the bookstore where he saw a pot of coffee brewing.

The pot of coffee was next to an antique mirror (much like the one in Justin’s greenhouse) except this mirror reflected the book shelves round about as well as Justin’s own image.

A bony finger emerged from inside the mirror and pointed at the coffee pot and an old ceramic cup bearing the image of what looked to be an old Aztec deity.

“Take and drink,” a voice inside the mirror commanded.

Justin poured himself a cup of coffee.

He added cream that he poured from a small statue of the Egyptian cow goddess Hathor.

He added sugar from packets of sugar marked Uncle Ernie’s Sugar Free Sugar that had the inscription at the back Aleister Crowley approved.

He used a skull insignia emblazoned spoon to stir the concoction.

He drank.

Justin then looked at the mirror and saw this image:

Countess Draculina in front of a castle on the West Coast of Scotland

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday February 23rd
2020.

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Renfield’s Ottawa News Broadcasts and The Arrival of Magical Mystery Tour

February 19, 2020 at 11:54 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel)

Renfield’s Ottawa News Broadcasts and The Arrival of Magical Mystery Tour

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was invited by a very very independent Ottawa radio station to read the morning news at the start of the day.

Renfield ad libbed most of the broadcast.

Said Renfield, “Last night, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau held a not so emergency meeting in his office meeting with 3 other wimp parliamentary party leaders to discuss ways to continue to procrastinate and dialogue in face of the national emergency that is shutting down much of Canada’s railway and transportation system leading to massive job layoffs, food and fuel shortages as well as a devastating blow to the Canadian economy.”

Walking on Parliament Hill on his way towards the meeting, the Prime Minister stepped in a massive load of demon buffalo poop besides the Hill’s eternal flame and told reporters, “All will be well.”

When he continued walking and attempted to clean his shoes off in the snow, he was said to resemble a ballerina performing a frostbite laden slipper version of a very frozen Swan Lake.

When Justin Trudeau emerged after the meeting, he was wearing a smudge of blackface on his nose as well as a sticker on his forehead that said KICK ME! I’M AL JOLSON!

Justin told reporters that he felt Canadians’ pain.

Also emerging from the meeting was Canadian New Democratic Party leader Jagmeet Singh who was sporting an oh! so swishy! looking pink turban.

Jagmeet Singh said that Conservative Party leader Andrew Scheer was a “racist” for wanting to end the blockades.

Next out the door was Bloc Québécois party leader Yves-Francois Blanchet who remarked, “Merde! I forgot to set my PVR to record tonight’s episode of Survivor.”

Last and certainly least to emerge from the meeting was Canadian Green Party leader Elizabeth May who sang her own paraphrased version of a 2011 Rebecca Black single hit wonder- May’s version containing the lyrics, “Highways! Highways! Gotta get down on highways!”.

The late afternoon evening news bulletin at the very very independent Ottawa radio station once again had Renfield reading or rather ad libbing the news:

“A group of Trotskyite Marxist agitators early this morning got the surprise of their lives when they attempted to set up a railway blockade in the West Edmonton area of Edmonton, Alberta.
A group of angry residents took down the protestors’ blockades and their sign saying RECONCILIATION IS DEAD!
They must have at least agreed with the Trotskyite indigenous protestors that Reconciliation was Dead because they threw the sign in the back of a truck with a bunch of garbage.
One of the angry resident counter-protestors told the media, “The government won’t do anything! The RCMP won’t do anything! Local police won’t do anything! So that means we the people have got to do something.”

Having someone who’s an Albertan for a friend- Dracul Van Helsing- I know that most Canadians probably know you don’t piss off an Albertan the same way that most people in my own nation of the United Kingdom know not to piss off a Scottish Highlander.

Someone forgot to tell the no doubt foreign agent Trotskyite planner who had planned this blockade as part of their insurrectionary efforts.

On a more sinister note, the Grand Chief of the Kanesatake Mohawks Serge Simone in Oka, Quebec must have been threatened by the Trotskyite Marxist Mohawk Warriors because he reversed himself on his decision yesterday calling for the blockades to end.”

. . .

On the Kanesatake Mohawk First Nations territory near Oka, Quebec the disembodied burning head of Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin with its flaming hair was flying above the ground.

The figure of Mephistopheles sat under a tree roasting chestnuts.

And the Beelzekraken had emerged from a river.

. . .

At his home in Ottawa, Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau rushed to his backyard green house when he heard his new pot smoking and cannabis exhaling desert cactus plant from Set Enterprises in London had arrived.

He was shocked to find in the place once occupied by Strawberry Fields Forever (his old pot smoking and cannabis exhaling desert cactus plant) a large antique mirror of the late Victorian or early Edwardian era.

To top it off, the mirror didn’t even reflect his (Justin’s) own image or even the surroundings of the green house itself.

Rather it reflected a dark alleyway in London at night where a closed old and rare used book store stood at a street corner.

For Justin Trudeau, Magical Mystery Tour had indeed arrived.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 19th
2020.


She heard a strange noise coming from the direction of the old book store in the alley.

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Yaldabaoth and Morrigan

February 10, 2020 at 11:45 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Yaldabaoth and Morrigan

Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he was nestled in the arms of Morrigan the Irish Celtic goddess of war.

The year was 1955.

The place Monte Carlo.

And Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun had been cleaning up at the roulette tables.

House management had become concerned.

Unfortunately their regular house detective had been killed in a shoot out last month involving the American CIA, the Soviet KGB, the IRA (Irish Republican Army), the California Harper Valley PTA (Parent-Teachers’ Association) and the American IRS (Internal Revenue Service).

The IRS must have emerged the winner.

Because the IRS operative put a hand in the house detective’s pocket, pulled out a stone and squeezed blood out of the stone into a jar (that had a piece of paper written on the jar’s outside saying For Uncle Sam).

After an hour the stone no longer cosmologically or ontologically existed and the large jar was filled to the top with blood.

The house detective was buried in a grotto honouring the goddess Fortuna.

Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion was hired by the casino to serve as house detective until a replacement for the deceased fellow could be found.

So far no one was willing to take the job.

Because Jocasta a parent representative on the California Harper Valley PTA (who was quite overly protective of her son) was one nasty target shooting markswoman.

Fortunately for Carson Cody Albion, he had been turned into an immortal by Atargatis the Syro-Phoenician goddess back in the early 1940s.

So Jocasta’s bullets didn’t amount to much.

Although after missing Albion, they did strike and kill a Ph.D student in Psychology who was doing his doctoral dissertation on the theories of Sigmund Freud and his analysis of the connection between the male libido and psyche.

When Albion opened the hotel room door, he saw Yaldabaoth in the arms of Morrigan.

“Other guests in the hotel have been complaining about the sound of spanking coming from this room,”
Albion said.

“That is strange,” Yaldabaoth admitted.

“May I inquire, sir, as to why both your pants and underpants are on the floor and your bottom seems to be glowing like the fireflies of a warm August night?” Albion asked.

“I must confess I’m at a loss for words,” Yaldabaoth answered.

Morrigan reached over to the dresser, pulled a dictionary off it and handed it to the leprechaun.

“Even more than the sound of spanking,” Albion cleared his throat, “management is concerned about your constant winning at the roulette wheel.”

“It is the luck of the Irish, it is,” Yaldabaoth grinned.

“Our detectors detected a magnet coming from your direction,” Albion stated.

“Ah, for sure ’tis my magnetic personality,” the leprechaun smiled, “overflowing like the River Shannon after a week of spring rains.”

“What about this magnet on your belt?” The detective picked up the leprechaun’s pants.

“As Saint Patrick is my witness, I don’t know how that got there,” the leprechaun protested.

“But Saint Patrick isn’t here to be your witness,” Morrigan pointed out.

“Shibboleth, I don’t know what to say,” Yaldabaoth shook his head.

“You might start by improving the pronunciation of your conversational ancient Hebrew,” Albion noted.

The detective had recently taken a course in conversational ancient Hebrew.

“I know how to punish Yaldabaoth for his offences,” Morrigan once again took the leprechaun over her knee.

“I’ll show myself out,” Albion remarked as he went over to the door, opened it and exited.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Sunday January 19th
2020
Finally posted on 
Monday February 10th
2020.
The Morrigan-Yaldabaoth the
Irish leprechaun story for Anonymole.

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Leya

January 18, 2020 at 11:53 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Leya

Back on July 7th 2013, Welsh werewolf Magog Rhys Petley (then a British Labour MP at the time) had made out with the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith in a maternity ward in the West Bank town of Bethlehem.

9 months later, Lilith gave birth to a baby girl.

The girl she handed over to Dr. Nicht Werhoffen a scientist for the Russian FSB (who had previously worked for the East German Stasi prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall).

Dr. Werhoffen put the baby in a test tube and had accelerated her growth so she reached adulthood within the space of 6 months.

He then sent her to spy on the Israeli Mossad so that Russia could see what the Israelis were up to.

Leya was put in to serve as a stenographer to Jeffrey Epstein who ran a notorious child sex trafficking ring in the U.S. designed to blackmail American politicians of all political stripes to serve Israel’s interests.

Epstein being the horny predatory bastard that he was tried to make his own moves on Leya but she had the ability to shapeshift into a wolf (from a DNA gene she inherited from her father the Welsh werewolf Magog Rhys Petley) and bit the Mossad operative where it hurt the most.

When Epstein was arrested on July 6th of last year on federal charges for the sex trafficking of minors in Florida and New York, Leya found herself out of a job as a stenographer.

She left both the Mossad and the FSB and went to the United Kingdom where she knew her father had lived.

Her mother Lilith had wanted nothing to do with her.

So now she decided to track down her father.

All she knew of him was that he had once been a British Member of Parliament.

She ended up bathing in the waters off the coast of Cornwall during the last wolf moon back on January 10th of this year.

She had been told by a London gypsy seer and medium Dulcinea Lucia that her father generally bathed in the waters off the coast of Cornwall on the night of the Wolf Moon but there was no sign of him.

Dulcinea Lucia was not mistaken.

Magog Rhys Petley usually did do that.

But not this year.

As he had to move his private eye office (which he partnered with former British Conservative MP Agathor Christie) to a cheaper location in London at the time of the Wolf Moon.

The song Leya sang to herself that lonely night of the Wolf Moon in the cold Cornish coastal waters:

Where are you, Dad?
I thought you’d be here

On this cold and lonely night 
I wanted to hold you tight 
Tell me who I am, where I’m from
On this night of crystal frost
I look into the sky, seeming lost 

I see your face in the moon
Wish I could feel your presence soon
And now I turn, I turn into you
I cry, I cry out loud 

On this night of mist and cloud
Where, oh where? You’re not there
These tears of salt, an ocean to spare 
This loneliness, it drives to despair

It’s been said, this too shall pass 
This emptiness, it will not last 

I will now head to the shore 
Devoid of the hope I held before, 
The moon it shines sending its beams
But on this night, it casts shadows on my dreams.

-A vampire novel chapter
and poem 
written by Christopher
Saturday January 18th
2020.

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