A Marilyn Monroe Halloween

October 13, 2022 at 8:24 pm (Detective story, Espionage, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Literature, love, magic, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural) (, , , , , , , )

Marilyn Monroe At Halloween

It was Halloween 1954
And Carson Cody Albion
Knocked at the door

Myend was what the sign on the door said

Whoever owned the house called Yourend had fled
So Albion had come knocking knocking on Myend’s door
Private eye he was, no raven saying “Nevermore”.

It was no Pallas Athena that opened the door
But Marilyn Monroe in witch’s apparel without any gore

A lovely witch she was with candles four
And a lovely dress J. Edgar Hoover would die for

Said Marilyn, “Hast thou come knocking at my entrance door?”
Said Albion, “Thou hast knockers that defy gravity’s floor.”
Said Marilyn, “Dost thou love me even though I be poor?”
“I do,” said Albion, “I bought this ring at the jewellery store.”

The curtain and the veil in the temple tore
Baskerville hound lost its footing in the moor
Only PH Unbalanced remained a colossal bore
But the rest of the cosmos rejoiced encore

What sorcery is this that has done this for?
Love’s beating heart yet beats some more
A tale to be told like in days of yore
Albion entered the house as cats and dogs and rain doth pour.

-A Carson Cody Albion poem
and Halloween poem
written by Christopher
Thursday October 13th
2022.

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The Panther Woman and The God of Surprises

April 22, 2022 at 11:30 pm (Detective story, Espionage, Gothic, History, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Claudia Simon The Panther Woman

Carson Cody Albion, a private eye then based in New Orleans, was spending April of 1935 visiting New York City.

He was visiting an old college acquaintance of his who had now become an inspector in the New York Police Department.

“Inspector Hennessy,” his secretary brought into her boss’ office the private eye from New Orleans, “a Mr. Carson Cody Albion to see you.”

“Carson, my old friend,” the Inspector rushed to greet him.

They discussed old times and college days.

And how the philosopher Hegel (who they had both studied in the same philosophy course they took) was a major pain in the ass.

However Hegel’s influence on the world was profound in the decade of the 1930s.

Hegel, as interpreted through the lens of the left wing Hegelians particularly Marx, was influencing Bolshevism and Communism.

Hegel, as interpreted through the lens of the right wing Hegelians particularly Nietzsche, was influencing Nazism and Fascism.

Inspector Hennessy was then discusing cases he was working on.

One involved a wild animal walking the streets of New York City.

A black coloured panther with golden green eyes who ripped out the throats of its victims.

The other involved a serial killer dressed as a clown who slashed the throats of his victims.

Beside his victims, he left a fortune cookie that always had the same message, “Be prepared to be surprised by the god of surprises.”

Albion said he’d help Hennessy with the case.

As Albion walked back to his hotel, he passed a tarot card reading room.

A very beautiful young woman dressed in the beautiful coloured blouse and skirt of a gypsy woman stood outside.

“A reading, sir,” she smiled at him.

“Why not?” Said Albion.

He did not believe in tarot cards or crystal balls but he had time to kill.

Interestingly enough the reading sort of matched the case his friend Inspector Hennessy was working on.

When the reading was over, the lovely brunette gypsy woman smiled at him and said, “Remember, sir, it takes a thief to catch a thief.”

Curious statement, Albion thought.

Albion was walking by a Church – Saint Raphael’s- when he noticed the priest locking up.

“Good evening, Father,” Albion said.

“Good evening,” said the priest, “You’re Carson Cody Albion are you not?”.

“Why, yes,” Albion nodded, “You know me?”.

“I have a niece who lives in New Orleans,” the priest explained, “She’s sent me newspaper clippings about your exploits. She knows I have a weakness for detective stories- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown and Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot.”

“Excellent writers and excellent detectives all of them,” Albion acknowledged.

“Working on a case here in New York?” The priest asked.

Albion mentioned the panther and also the clown serial killer who called himself the God of Surprises.

“This clown serial killer the God of Surprises is a sinister individual,” the priest crossed himself with the Sign of the Cross, “I believe he’s human but yet he’s possesed of a supernatural paranormal power that I believe is demonic in origin.”

“What makes you think that, Father?” Albion was curious.

“I have to go to a hospital to hear confessions but meet me here at the rectory at noon tomorrow,” the priest pointed, “It’s right next to the Church.”

Albion agreed.

At 2 AM Albion woke up.

Feeling restless he decided to go for a walk.

He walked past Saint Raphael’s Church and was surprised to see a moving van out in front.

A moving van in the middle of the night?

At a Church?

The movers were moving Crosses and Crucifixes and statues of Mary and the Saints from the Church into the van.

This is curious, Albion thought.

He looked at the name on the van PILTDOWN AND PEKING MOVERS.

Weird, Albion thought.

The following morning Albion again walked in the direction of the Church.

This time for his noon appointment with the priest rector of Saint Raphael’s at the Church rectory.

He was surprised to see CRIME SCENE yellow tape around the Church building.

Albion figured that possibly the middle of the night movers were in fact burglars and he Albion had neglected to stop them.

“What’s happened here, Hennessy?” Albion asked the inspector when he saw him.

“Well aside from the obvious theft of the Crosses and Crucifixes and statues of Mary and the Saints, the priest Father Lacroix was found dead at the altar with his throat slashed,” Hennessy stated, “along with a fortune cookie carrying the message, BE PREPARED TO BE SURPRISED BY THE GOD OF SURPRISES. Witnesses saw a clown carrying a bloodied knife flee the Church building.”

Hennessy and Albion went to talk to the rectory’s housekeeper to see if she knew if Father Lacroix had any enemies.

The housekeeper, an Irish woman in her mid-50s, sobbed that this clown serial killer the God of Surprises must be demonically possessed.

That’s why the Crosses and Crucifixes and statues of Mary and the Saints were taken out so that the demonic clown serial killer The God of Surprises could enter the Church and kill Father Lacroix.

Indeed it turned out there was no such moving company as PILTDOWN AND PEKING MOVERS.

Albion after helping Hennessy had gone to a local public pool for a swim.

While walking through the pool area he saw this woman.

Albion stopped to look at her.

“You recognize me, monsieur?” the woman spoke with a French accent.

As a matter of fact, he had seen a sketch of her.

In the notebook of one Barnabas Van Helsing a vampire hunter who wasn’t quite as famous as his elder brother Dr. Abraham Van Helsing.

Back in the early 1890s the City of New Orleans had been terrorized by a wild black panther with golden green eyes who killed New Orleans citizens by ripping out their throats.

Van Helsing had caught up with the panther who, the vampire hunter had claimed in his notebook, had shapeshifted into a beautiful woman.

The woman, Van Helsing claimed was an immortal, who turned into a panther on certain nights.

She was a 17th Century French noblewoman named Claudia Simon.

Van Helsing had sketched her picture.

Albion recognized the woman standing in front of him as being the same woman in Barnabas Van Helsing’s sketch.

He also recalled something else.

Something the gypsy woman had said to him yesterday.

It takes a thief to catch a thief.

A couple of hours later a very beautiful woman was walking through a dark neighbourhood.

The sounds of the stilettos on her high heeled shoes clicking the pavement.

The constant pulling up of her coat and adjusting of her skirt.

A clown started to follow her.

He carried a knife.

He walked very stealthily behind her and was about to strike… when the woman suddenly turned and spun around on her heels.

He was surprised.

“You appear to be surprised, oh, God of Surprises,” said the woman with a most exquisite French accent.

She turned into a panther and ripped out his throat.

The clown shouted out several last words before he died.

As Hennessy and Albion wrapped up the investigation, they discovered that the clown was a Jesuit priest named Father Edgar Noeticus who had studied under the French Jesuit priest paleontologist Father Pierre Teilhard de Chardin over in China.

No one was sure when Father Noeticus had left China and when he returned to the U.S.

However after he got his throat ripped out by the panther woman, he shouted out one final last cry, “Someday a Pope shall venerate me the God of Surprises.”

In his right hand as he died he clutched a fortune cookie with the message BE PREPARED TO BE SURPRISED BY THE GOD OF SURPRISES.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday April 22nd
2022.

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Orson Welles’ Ghost Arranges For Russian Billionaire Oligarch To Be Bumped Off In Switzerland

March 20, 2022 at 10:48 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Movies, Mystery, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The Russian oligarch billionaire felt like he was entering a scene in a late 1940s Film Noir movie.

Which in a sense he was.

Billionaire oligarch Hunterovich Pervertovsky (the son of the senile old fool Russian billionaire oligarch Josef Pervertovsky famous for going around sniffing the hair of beautiful women and for always wanting to dangle young girls on his lopsided knees as his pair of Russian made Depends dangled around his brown coloured ankles) was standing face to face with a woman who was the spitting image of actress Laurette Luez in the 1949 Film Noir movie D.O.A.

The entire scene had a black and white feel to it.

That’s because it was being directed by the ghost of the great film director Orson Welles.

His friend the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had arranged for the pro-Taiwan Vietnamese secret agent Ho Babylon Minh to drop a Mickey into Hunterovich Pervertovsky’s hot toddy as he ate his rotisserie chicken accompanied by Black Sea caviar in the Swiss chalet restaurant.

Unbeknownst to him a Ukrainian band with a Ukrainian ukulele player played that old Canadian restaurant TV commercial song “Life should taste as good as Swiss Chalet” from the top floor of the chalet as Ho slipped the mickey into his drink.

Hunterovich hit the floor faster than one of his many dropped laptops.

He soon found himself in this room, his head was spinning in a haze and everything looked black and white to him.

And he saw this vision:

Actress Laurette Luez smoking a cigarette

“There’s a glass of vodka in front of you, Comrade Uber-capitalist Hunterovich Pervertovsky,” Miss Luez pointed with her shapely leg.

Pervertovsky picked up the glass and drank.

His face suddenly turned very red like the flags rising above the Saint Petersburg Winter Palace on a Julian calendar October day in 1917.

“I believe it’s Polonium-210 that you use to get rid of the opponents of your friend Vlad the Exhaler’s regime isn’t it?” Miss Luez smiled, “Well there was enough Polonium-210 in that glass of vodka to kill a race horse. And personally I along with Mr. Welles, Mr. Van Helsing and Miss Ho have nothing against race horses.”

Hunterovich Pervertovsky the son of Josef Pervertovsky was D.O.A.

Meanwhile on Hunterovich Pervertovsky’s laptop (which had just landed at his feet) were the plans for Russia’s newest Kinzhal (Dagger) hypersonic missiles just used in Ukraine.

The plans were delivered to Set Enterprises in London.

And not the British government.

As the Bitish government was under the control of Klaus Schwab’s World Economic Forum and the Great Reset New World Order.

Set Enterprises was not.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 20th
2022.

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Jack O’ Hare Meets Mr. Ed The Talking Horse

October 29, 2021 at 9:45 pm (Film, Mystery, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Gwen with Mr. Ed the Talking Horse

Jack O’ Hare was playing with a telegraph set practicing his Morse
When those Halloween X-Solar flares unleashed a powerful force
And sent him hurtling through space-time wildly off course
Back to the time of Mr. Ed the Talking Horse

Asked Jack, “Are you Mr. Ed the Talking Horse?
Replied the noble equine, “Of course! Of course! Of course!”.

“And who are you?” Jack asked the fair maiden,
“Gwen Conliffe,” she said on night when moon wasn’t fadin,
Then she added,
“Even a man who is pure in heart
And says his prayers at night
Can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the autumn moon is bright.”

In the distance Larry Talbot’s tormented soul howled
And in far off tracks of Talbot estate one lone wolf growled.

“Tis Halloween,” said Jack as space-time went off course,
“The only time of year,” said Mr. Ed, “where you’ll meet a talking horse.”

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday October 29th 2021.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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