100 More Days Till Halloween…

July 23, 2021 at 10:58 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Sorcery, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

“This is Jack Anderson at Terror 97 FM in London- the radio station that keeps you in stitches – a la style of Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s creation. This just in from Canada… Earlier today genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee slew two more ugly women in a Dollarama store in Calgary. And now here’s Air Supply singing their coming Halloween hit Two Less Ugly People In The World…”

. . .

There was a state of excitement prevailing in the Vatican among the city state’s wide assortment of Jesuit priests for word had come to pass that the demon Baphomet was going to address them at A Come As You Are convention in the Vatican Sauna Steam Bath House named Hyacinth Sizzles Apollo’s Swizzle Stick.

Meanwhile in the Papal Apartments, Pope Francis was consulting with one of his leading theological advisors Walter Cardinal Kasper.

“Your Unholiness,” Kasper addressed Bergoglio by his most appropriate title, “a group of flying saucer UFOs containing 6.66 feet tall T-Rex ET reptilians have landed within the walls of the Vatican.”

“What for?” Francis asked as he licked a Spartan Greek popsicle.

“We’re not sure,” Kasper answered.

. . .

British Prime Minister Boris Johnson had been hiding inside a tomb in London’s Highgate Cemetery ever since British MP Renfield R. Renfield publicly called for the 10 Downing Street occupant’s assassination this past Wednesday.

The colourful and controversial MP had issued the assassination call after the Zombie Nosferatu Tory Prime Minister (whose forehead had been etched with the words I AM AN APOSTLE OF THE ANTICHRIST in red felt ink) announced this past Wednesdy that he intended to introduce a vaccine passport in Britain next month.

Bishop Sean Manchester the traditionalist Old Catholic Church Bishop of Glastonbury and a leading exorcist was walking around the cemetery amidst reports that a vampire was once again haunting the cemetery for the first time in 51 years.

As Johnson sat inside the tomb with sweat on his forehead, the ghost of Karl Marx (looking well roasted) appeared alongside him and asked him, “How’s it going?”.

. . .

Yaldabaoth the Irish Leprechaun was in Highgate Cemetery eating cold mutton sandwiches and drinking Guinness beer.

He was listening to Terror 97 FM London on his old 1970s style transistor radio.

The radio was playing a commercial and a Halloween holiday jingle, “100 more days till Halloween… Silver Shamrock.”

A hand holding a silver shamrock suddenly appeared out of the ground near the old gravestone where Yaldabaoth was having his evening picnic totally freaking the wee leprechaun out.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday July 23rd
2021.

Permalink 4 Comments

Liaison At The Palais Garnier

May 20, 2021 at 10:15 pm (Culture, Detective story, Folklore, History, Mystery, Romance, Short Story, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

Sitting alongside her friend Estelle in her opera box at the Palais Garnier Opera House in Paris, Nicole read a message that had been delivered to her.

It was a May evening in Paris in the year 1889.

And the 1888-1889 season of the Palais Garnier Paris Opera Company was coming to an end.

The season had begun in September with Verdi’s Aida.

And was coming to an end this May with Mozart’s Don Giovanni.

Nicole and Estelle had thoroughly enjoyed Act I of tonight’s opera.

During intermission there was one man who kept his eyes on Nicole the whole time they were in the lobby.

Returning to their box minutes before Act 2 was to begin, they discussed the excitement surrounding this particular night at the opera.

Aside from the usual rumours surrounding the possible appearance of Erik the Phantom of the Opera, there were other rumours surrounding tonight’s performance.

It was rumoured that Queen Victoria’s eldest son Edward Prince of Wales (who would be the future King Edward VII of Britain) would be attending tonight’s performance incognito under the name Monsieur Claude Adonais.

Various opera goers cast their glances around the seats on the floor and in the opera boxes to see if Monsieur Claude Adonais (aka Edward Prince of Wales) was there.

Just minutes before Act 2 of Don Giovanni was to begin, Nicole received a note.

“What does the note say?” Estelle asked excitedly.

“It says,” Nicole read the note aloud, “My dearest and fairest Mademoiselle, do I have permission to enter your box before tonight’s performance is finished?” And it’s signed Claude Adonais. Then in brackets it says Edward Prince of Wales.”

“The cheek of him,” Estelle shook her head, “Asking to enter your box.”

“I do believe he’s talking about my opera box,” Nicole replied.

“You never know with Edward Prince of Wales,” Estelle noted, “He has quite the reputation.”

Nicole sent a note back.

“What did you say?” Estelle asked.

“I said Oui,” Nicole answered.

“Oh, Nicole,” Estelle sighed.

Just as the scene where Don Giovanni encounters the statue of the slain dead Commendatore (whose daughter Don Giovanni had sexually violated and the Commendatore had died in a sword fight against Don Giovanni defending his daughter’s honour) unfolds, Monsieur Claude Adonais (aka Edward Prince of Wales) entered Nicole’s box (her opera box that is).

“Would you care to come to my hotel room after dinner?” Monsieur Claude Adonais asked, “We’ll have wine, a midnight snack and a most scrumptuous shish kebab of a sword for your dessert.”

Just as on stage the statue of the Commendatore dragged Don Giovanni down to Hell, so too Erik the Phantom of the Opera arrived on his chandelier, grabbed the Prince of Wales and carried him down to the subterranean lake below the Palais Grenier Opera House.

Just as the Phantom was about to drag the Prince of Wales below the depths of the lake, London’s famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes arrived on the scene.

“Your Highness,” Holmes explained, “Your mother the Queen hired me to look out for you. After she heard you were traveling incognito to Paris sans Alexandra your wife, she figured something like this would happen.”

Holmes ripped off the Phantom’s mask.

Erik with a loud cry vanished beneath the waters of the lake.

Holmes then turned to Edward Prince of Wales (under his incognito nom-de-plume Monsieur Claude Adonais), “And as for you, your naughty Royal Highness, your mother has booked a three hour session with my twin sister Sherrielock Holmes for you.”

Edward turned pale, “But isn’t your sister a dominatrix?”.

“She is, your Highness,” Holmes nodded, “And you’ve had it coming.”

Meanwhile Nicole and Estelle sat in a small cafe on the Champs-Elysees.

Nicole opened up a box of chocolates (that had been given her by Edward Prince of Wales Monsieur Claude Adonais) and said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.”

-A short story
and
vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 20th
2021.

Permalink 10 Comments

Andrea Angelicus: Another Time, Another Place

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


Andrea Angelicus: Modeling for an artist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Permalink 10 Comments

The Phoenix In The Desert Rising From Its Ashes

May 2, 2021 at 10:34 pm (Folklore, Mystery, Mythology, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

The Phoenix it is said lives 500 years
Knowing when its time to die
The bird returns to its place of birth
A nesting grounds in Arabia
Before its demise
It builds a nest of frankincense and myrrh
When the time is come
It enters and dies
Bursting into flames.
From its ashes
A new phoenix arises.

The Phoenix burst into flames
From its ashes arose
Andrea Angelicus.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday May 2nd 2021.

Permalink 26 Comments

Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka Mourns A Friend

April 28, 2021 at 10:31 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , )

The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka mourns the passing of a friend.

It was April 28th 1939.

And the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was visiting a sick friend who had a bee farm in the South Downs of Sussex.

“I must confess I have been poisoned,” said her friend as he lay in bed, “Really quite stupid of me. I have made a study of poisons all my life. And I really should have noticed the deadly combination of bee venom, cobra venom and tarantula venom that was put in my honey that I then put in my tea. I can’t believe I’ve been so positively sloppy in my methods of observation.”

“Who poisoned you?” Tanaka asked.

“It was Fraulein Immergrun the waitress down at the village pub,” her friend answered, “I really should have become suspicious when she returned a bucket of my own honey to me as a gift. And I should have been even more suspicious when I discovered that the honey was a different colour from the honey I raised with my bees.”

“Your mind was no doubt on other things,” Tanaka spoke in an accusing voice.

“What do you mean by that?” Her friend inquired.

“Let’s just say that Fraulein Immergrun is no doubt very popular at the Munich Oktoberfest in Bavaria,” Tanaka answered in firm fashion, “As she carries quite a lovely big pair of jugs.”

“I get the feeling you’re not talking about beer,” her friend remarked in a somewhat flushed state.

“It doesn’t take a detective to see what she’s got,” Tanaka stated matter of factly.

“I suppose not,” her friend agreed.

“Do you want me to call your sister?” Tanaka asked.

“I suppose,” her friend bit his lip, “No use calling my brother as he has been dead these seven years.”

Tanaka used the phone in the next room and called the sister.

“What did she have to say?” Her friend inquired.

“She says she’s going to come down here and whip you back to life again,” Tanaka answered.

“Spoken like a true professional dominatrix,” her friend started drumming the fingers of his left hand on the lamp table next to him.

“She is that,” Tanaka acknowledged, “and she looks so young.”

“Yes,” her friend agreed, “She doesn’t look a day over 30 and yet she’s the same age as me- 85. She being my twin sister. She had told me once that she had once eaten a specially prepared meal of Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms that had made her immortal. I didn’t believe her at the time. But now over 40 years later, it’s the only explanation that makes any sense. Unless she’s got a Dorian Gray like portrait painting of herself hanging in a room somewhere.”

“Why did Fraulein Immergrun poison you?” Tanaka asked.

“Because she’s working for the Nazis and Der Fuhrer,” her friend lay his head back on his pillow, “Something that I sadly have only deduced while I lay here dying.”

“Why do Hitler and the Nazis want you dead?” Tanaka wiped her friend’s brow with a wet face cloth.

“A couple of years ago that Member of Parliament Winston Churchill hired me to research the Nazis and asked me what conclusions I’d come to on what their global agenda is,” her friend coughed, “All my research papers on the topic are in that drawer over there. I imagine I’ve reached the same conclusion on their geopolitical agenda as our friend Winnie has. What Churchill probably isn’t aware of is their merger of Science and Sorcery, of Technology and the Occult. For most of my professional life, I didn’t really believe in sorcery, magic or the occult. But now having researched Nazism not only in its political but also its mystical aspects, the Nazis seem to be in contact with let’s just say… very dark powers.”

“Really?” Tanaka looked penetratingly at her friend.

“I just thought of something else at the moment,” her friend noted.

“What?” Tanaka asked.

“A really overwhelmingly compelling argument for the existence of God,” her friend spoke in hushed tones.

“What is it?” Tanaka asked.

At that moment, her friend died.

And Sherlock Holmes, once of #221 B Baker Street London, took his overwhelmingly compelling argument for the existence of God to the grave with him.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday, April 28th
2021

Permalink 2 Comments

Just Another Day In Paradise

April 11, 2021 at 10:21 pm (Detective story, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Poetry, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” the woman smiled at Carson Cody Albion Private Eye as she sat on the stairs leading up to his apartment.

The year was 1950.
“Do I know you?”
Albion inquired
After the woman greeted him on the stairs.

“Sadly, we’ve never met before,” the woman continued to smile at him.
“Are you a widow?” Albion asked her, “I notice you’re wearing a black dress and a black veil.”
“I am wearing what you say,” she continued to smile, “But I’m also wearing white flowers in my hair.”
“And wearing a smile,” Albion noted.
“That too,” the woman laughed.
“So you’re not a recent widow?” Albion asked.
“I am a recent widow,” the woman nodded, “but only in the stage play I’m acting in. I murdered my husband. I am a villainess… in the play.”

“Oh,” was Albion’s response as he rolled himself a cigarette.
“I walked direcly from the playhouse to here without stopping to change,” the woman explained.
“And who are you in real life?” Albion asked.
“My name is Sherrielock Holmes,” the woman answered.
“The name sounds familiar,” Albion lit his cigarette.
“Sherlock Holmes was my twin brother,” the woman lifted her veil and accepted a cigarette from Albion.
“But he’s dead and he’d be almost 100 if he was alive and…” Albion did not finish the sentence.
“I’m alive and I’m immortal,” the woman accepted a light.
“That explains everything,” Albion blew out the match.

“It does,” Sherrielock smiled.
“Do you wish to hire me?” Albion sat on a step below her.
“I do,” Sherrielock smiled.
“For what purpose?” Albion wanted to know.
“To investigate Richard M. Nixon,” Sherrielock answered.
“The presumed Republican Party candidate for U.S. Senator from California this year?” Albion took a bottle of bourbon from his coat pocket and took a sip.
“Yes,” Sherrielock nodded.
“Why?” Albion wanted to know.
“To see why Mei-ling Manchu is interested in him,” Sherrielock raised the hem of her skirt.
“Mei-ling Manchu?” Albion blew smoke rings.
“She’s a vampiress and a member of the CCP,” Sherrielock stated.
“CCP?” Albion was quizzical.
“Chinese Communist Party,” Sherrielock smiled, “Not Coca-Cola Playtime.”
“That’s good,” Albion raised his fedora, “Because I hear Nixon drinks Pepsi.”
“And here I was going to offer Tahiti Treat,” Sherrielock laughed.
“What’s Tahiti Treat?” Albion wasn’t familiar with that beverage.

“Well,” Sherrielock spoke breathlessly, “Why don’t we go up to your apartment and I’ll show you?”.
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” said Albion.

A young actor named Marlon Brando cast a glance up the stairwell.

Now there was a line he’d like to be able to use someday or a line like it.

-A Carson Cody Albion narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 11th
2021.

Permalink 6 Comments

Gina Esmeralda

February 27, 2021 at 11:30 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The gypsy Gina Esmeralda opened the door

“Count Dracula,” she smiled, “I bid you welcome.”

It was February of the year 1871.

The location was a small inn in Britanny, France.

“You’ve heard of me?” The Transylvanian nobleman and former Wallachian prince was surprised.

“My people live all over Europe,” Gina Esmeralda smiled, “so yes, I’ve heard of you.”

“Then you’re aware that I am a…”

“Vampire?” Gina Esmeralda finished the Count’s sentence for him, “Yes, I’m aware. I hope you won’t be a pain in the neck to me or any of my guests.”

“I’ve fed on a few sheep in the region,” the vampire explained, “so yes, my thirst has been quenched.”

“Poor sheep,” Gina Esmeralda reflected aloud, “so if you are the the perfect gentleman with my guests and me, I won’t have to summon the priest to sprinkle you with Holy Water.”

“No, you won’t,” Dracula remarked, “Who are your other guests?”.

“I am Loki the Norse trickster god,” said Loki who was eating a huge piece of roast beef.

“And I am Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun,” said Yaldabaoth who likewise was eating a large piece of roast beef.

“Both your guests seem to be immortals,” Dracula turned towards Gina Esmeralda, “so they have nothing to worry about from me.”

“Although,” Yaldabaoth spoke up, “According to the Irish High King Brian Boru’s Medieval Treatise On Leprechaun Ailments, there are a small variety of foods that could kill me but fortunately roast beef is not one of them.”

“And what are you doing here in Britanny?” Dracula turned towards Loki.

“I’ve been giving advice to Prussian Chancellor Otto von Bismarck on how to defeat France in this Franco-Prussian War so that France will lose its continental power and the German states can band together and form one nation,” Loki explained, “under the rule of the King of Prussia as Emperor of Germany of course.”

“Well you’ve already finished off Napoleon III and the Second Empire this past September,” Dracula noted, “And its successor the recently proclaimed Third Republic has pretty well thrown in the towel as far as war with Prussia is concerned.”

“Indeed it has,” Loki grinned as he drank his beer, “So Germany unveiled a constitution and united last month with Prussia’s king as Emperor.”

“Why do you seek a united Germany?” Dracula inquired.

“The German peoples used to worship me and my fellow gods of the Norse pantheon and I hope if they become politically and militarily powerful, they might do so again.”

Gina Esmeralda let out a small cry as the vision of a rotating and spinning black sun in a white circle against a blood red background entered her mind.

“You all right, Gina?” A concerned Yaldabaoth asked.

Loki laughed.

“Yes, I am,” Gina Esmeralda answered.

The beautiful gypsy walked over to the bar.

“Would you care for some wine, Count?” The gypsy asked.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Dracula smiled.

“Strange,” Gina Esmeralda steadied herself on the bar, “I just had a vision of a man with an accent similar to yours, Count. He was dressed like a Paris head waiter but wearing a cape as well and saying to someone, “I don’t drink… wine.” While standing in an old castle.”

“Not a very good countryman of mine if he doesn’t drink wine,” Dracula gratefully took the glass.

“Someday, you’ll be famous, Count,” Gina Esmeralda seemed to gaze into the future, “Books will be written about you and moving pictures made.”

“Moving pictures?” Yaldabaoth looked baffled.

“Photographs that move,” Gina Esmeralda explained.

“That sounds eerie,” Yaldabaoth gazed at a photograph of a Breton werewolf on the dining room wall, “a photograph that moves.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday February 27th
2021.

Permalink 12 Comments

Marmalade and Hendrik’s Gin Revive A Leprechaun Again

February 22, 2021 at 11:39 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

The body of Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was once again lying under a contraption invented by Set Enterprises’ eccentric scientist Dr. Marmalade Montague that would pour 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin down the leprechaun’s throat that would bring him back from the dead.

A recipe written down by Asclepius (the Greek god of medicine who was killed by a thunderbolt from Zeus) that wound its way on to a late 1940s matchbook from a Cairo nightclub said that a combination of juniper, cucumber and damask rose could be used to resurrect a leprechaun from the dead.

It just so happened that the ingredients used in making Hendrick’s Gin were juniper, cucumber and damask rose.

An analysis of the leprechaun’s blood showed that he had been poisoned by a combination of champagne and Fire Salamander toxic poisoning.

According to a Facebook status post Yaldabaoth had made this past Saturday night, the leprachaun wound up hopelessly lost in the streets of London and entered a building that he thought was the Imperial Aurora Hotel where he was staying.

He went up to his hotel room floor in the elevator and when he got off the elevator, he saw that he was in fact not in a hotel but most likely in an apartment building.

He decided to check out the floor and when he got back from his rounds of the floor, he noticed a beautiful woman wearing a short skirt pointing a gun at two men and forcing them to get on the elevator with her.

The men must be gay, Yaldabaoth deduced in Sherlockian fashion, because otherwise such a woman should have absolutely no problem in getting a couple of men to get into an elevator with her.

Yaldabaoth happened to pass an apartment door that was still open.

He peered inside and happened to notice a bottle of champagne with two glasses on a small table in the middle of the room.

The leprechaun went inside and ignoring the two glasses, he drank straight from the bottle.

It was probably here that the leprechaun received his poisoning, Dr. Marmalade Montague deduced.

Someone must have added Fire Salamander poison to the bottle of champagne.

Judging from the amount of Fire Salamander poison in the champagne, this combination would have killed a mortal human within a space of 2 to 3 hours.

In Yaldabaoth’s case, being a somewhat usually immortal lepechaun, the poison didn’t kick in until 24 hours later when he entered the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka’s hotel room at the Imperial Aurora and noticed her wearing a killer mini skirt outfit.

The sudden rush of adrenaline with the combination of the champagne and Fire Salamander poison caused the leprechaun to keel over.

On the other hand as that classy and classically inclined arch villain Raymond Red Reddington once put it on an episode of The Blacklist, “Look on the bright side. At least he died with an enormous erection and a smile on his face.”

Dr. Marmalade Montague pushed a button and his contraption started pouring 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s gin down the leprechaun’s throat.

Set Enterprises’ Dr. Marmalade Montague rushes away from his Thames River bridge proposition after receiving a phone call that Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun had keeled over again.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday February 22nd
2021.

Permalink 4 Comments

Kendra Rai Private Eye

February 20, 2021 at 11:54 pm (Detective story, Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Kendra Rai Private Eye

Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London had had one of his paintings stolen from his gallery the past week.

The painting was a rare oil painting painted by Oscar Wilde.

Forrest was one of the few people in the world who knew that Wilde had painted some pictures and set out to find them through his various contacts.

This particular Wilde painting was of Alexander the Great having himself anointed and crowned Pharaoh of Egypt after having conquered Egypt in 332 BC.

On one of the pillars next to where Alexander was being crowned was an interesting set of hieroglyphs in the picture.

According to the story Forrest received, Wilde painted the picture of the hieroglyphs in conjunction with some research that writer Bram Stoker (the eventual author of Dracula and later The Jewel of Seven Stars) was doing.

Of course during the pandemic and Boris Johnson’s massive UK lockdown, The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery was not open to the public.

However Forrest had virtual exhibits of his paintings and art treasures on-line.

And appropriately socially distant private viewings could be arranged via emails with Forrest.

Last week he had shown the Oscar Wilde painting of Pharaoh Alexander the Great and the pillar of hieroglyphs on-line in a virtual exhibit.

The next night the painting was stolen.

On the advice of a friend, he hired London private investigator Kendra Rai to find it being told that she was the best private investigator in London.

London Private Investigator Kendra Rai the best private eye in London

Kendra Rai took the case immediately.

A case that would satisfy her intense intellectual curiosity and challenge her mind.

Kendra emailed a photo of the original Wilde painting of Pharaoh Alexander with the hieroglyphically inscribed pillar to an Egyptologist she knew at the British Museum wanting a translation of the hieroglyphs from him.

Kendra received an excited middle of the night phone call from the Egyptologist once he had translated them.

She was angry about being awakened in the middle of the night but once he told her the translation, she was no longer angry.

Kendra thanked the Egyptologist and put her phone down.

She now knew the reason why the painting was probably stolen.

And suspected who might be behind it.

Rogue MI-5 agents (although MI-5 was still unaware that these agents were rogue) Benedict Pence and Mike Arnold came mincing into their luxury apartment after a night on the town.

Of course they shouldn’t be on a night on the town during lockdown but both fancied that rules didn’t apply to them (God knew that certain rules laid down in Deuteronomy and Leviticus they didn’t follow).

On the wall of their apartment by the door they had a painting of Brutus and Cassius stabbing Julius Caesar to death.

On the opposite side of the room, they had a painting of Judas Iscariot getting paid his 30 pieces of silver from the Jerusalem Temple priests.

Both men as they entered noticed a bottle of champagne with two glasses in the middle of the room.

Thinking that the other had ordered it, both men took the glasses, poured themselves some champagne and had a toast.

They drank.

A light went on in a corner of the darkened room showing Kendra Rai Private Eye sitting there.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Kendra Rai smiled at them, “I don’t bring you tidings of great joy like on a certain evening of March 13th 2013 when someone else wished the world a “Good evening”. Rather to let you know that your champagne has been poisoned. I have the antidote in my purse along with my gun. So don’t try anything rash. I will give you the antidote when you tell me where the painting you stole is. And don’t tell me what painting. I’ve had the hieroglyphs translated. I know it was probably you who took it.”

“You’re bluffing,” Pence gulped.

“Try me,” Kendra laughed, “I have nothing to lose. You do.”

“We sold it to a certain billionaire,” Arnold gulped, “We won’t mention the billionaire. He doesn’t have it yet. It’s being shipped out of the country tonight.”

“Do you know the location of where it’s being shipped from?” Kendra asked.

“We do,” Pence and Arnold both nodded at the same time.

“Come, gentlemen,” Kendra held up a vial and also pointed a gun at them, “We’re going for a ride. And you better hope we get there in time to stop that painting leaving the country.”

Kendra did get there in time.

The painting was retrieved.

An anxiously sweating Pence and Arnold were given the vial.

And Kendra Rai returned the painting to Dashwood Forrest telling him to lock the painting in his safe and to no longer display it in any exhibits virtual or otherwise.

When she told him what the hieroglyphs on the pillar in the painting said, Forrest knew the reason.

The hieroglyphs gave the formula for making a deadly plague to be released on the world capable of killing most of the planet’s population.

Kendra had an idea which global billionaire probably wanted it.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday February 20th
2021.

Permalink 8 Comments

Aphrodite At The Sherlockian Club In London

January 22, 2021 at 11:59 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )


The Greek goddess Aphrodite at The Sherlockian Club in London

Aphrodite was sitting in one of the reading rooms at an exclusive men’s club in London.

Even though only men were allowed in the club, for some reason, none of the men present in the club this night objected to her being there.

The Sherlockian Club was founded well over a century ago in the year 1912 to honour the great British consulting detective Sherlock Holmes.

Its first President was one Winston Churchill a British MP and sometimes cabinet minister.

No wearing of masks and no social distancing went on at the Sherlockian Club.

That’s because its current President was one Renfield R. Renfield a British MP and sometime cabinet minister (whenever it was a minority government situation).

However none of the Sherlockian Club members got Covid, got sick or died.

The same couldn’t be said for one nursing home in Italy where there hadn’t been any deaths the past few years but as soon as all the nursing home residents were vaccinated with the Pfizer vaccine 2 weeks ago, 8 residents had dropped dead like flies the past 2 weeks.

And there was the stupendously great baseball player and baseball home run king Hank Aaron (one who didn’t use steroids to hit his record home runs like later players did) who publicly received the vaccine for Covid two weeks ago in an effort to show all Americans that the vaccine was safe.

Now today he was dead.

No doubt Joe Biden and Nancy Pelosi were offering prayers of thanks to Beelzebub that they had received the vaccine injections with the caps on.

Aphrodite was at the Sherlockian Club in London because her World Mythology and Folklore instructor at Oxford Prof. William Charles was going to read aloud a paper she wrote last year on the origins of the Demon Buffalo of Buffalo Lake.

Prof. William Charles in addition to being an Associate Professor of Mythology, Folklore, Vampirism, Lycanthropy and Paranormal Studies at Oxford University was a member of the Sherlockian Club.

As Aphrodite sat in one of the lounges of the Sherlockian Club waiting for Prof. William Charles’ speech to begin in the central dining hall

she soon found herself joined by Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.

“I’m anxious to hear your paper on the Demon Buffalo of Buffalo Lake,” Dracul stated.

“Well, we’ve got an hour to kill before the lecture begins,” Aphrodite smiled, “Why don’t I give you a spanking and then we can make out?”.

“A splendid idea,” Van Helsing agreed.

30 minutes later the ghost of Orson Welles inadvertently walked into the room.

“Why does this always happen to me?” Welles’ ghost sighed once again playing the role of the ghostly voyeur.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday January 22nd
2021.

Permalink 2 Comments

Next page »