If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It

June 18, 2021 at 10:43 pm (Commentary, Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


“I’ll take that last slice of pizza if you don’t mind, Mr. Farrow.”

“Cut!” Orson Welles shouted, “That’s a take!”.

“I’ll say it is,” said the actress as she grabbed and ate the last slice of pizza.

The day’s production was over.

Welles took his hat and coat and went to a nearby lounge where he ordered a glass of red wine.

After a few sips, he fell asleep.

When he awoke, he was a ghost in a pub in London called The Ghosts’ Inn and he was sipping a spectral glass of spectral red wine.

Welles wasn’t sure whether he was a mortal man dreaming that he was a ghost or whether he was a ghost dreaming about his days as a mortal man.

It was like that myth he had once heard about the man who fell asleep and dreamed that he was a caterpillar and then when he woke up again, he wasn’t sure whether he was a man who dreamed he was a caterpillar or whether he’s a caterpillar who’s now dreaming that he’s a man.

“Such intense thoughts on the cusp of the summer solstice,” British MP Renfield R. Renfield remarked over a gin and tonic.

“I wasn’t aware that I was thinking such thoughts aloud,” Welles’ ghost sighed.

“You were,” Renfield dug into his fish and chips with his knife and fork.

A butterfly flew in through the window of the pub.

“I wonder what the butterfly dreams,” Renfield mused aloud.

“Not sure,” Welles admitted, “But he’s got both man and caterpillar beat.”

“Of course there are some idiots,” Renfield pointed out, “let’s call them in Seinfeldian fashion Klaus Schwab, the World Economic Forum, Joe Biden, Justin Trudeau and Boris Johnson who probably figure that when it comes to butterflies, they can still Build Back Better.”

A British engineering student (who had spent the Covid lockdown studying Schwab’s book on The Fourth Industrial Revolution) was in another booth operating his robotic butterfly (that he called the Transbutterfly).

The Transbutterfly was trying to take nectar from the petal of an artificial flower.

The butterfly who had flown past Renfield and Welles flew out the door while the Transbutterfly flew into another customer’s pint of ale where it burst a gasket and disintegrated.

Dashwood Forrest the noted London art gallery dealer walked past Renfield and Welles carrying a godawful painting.

“What’s that hideous monstrosity?” Both Welles and Renfield asked at the same time.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to give this painting away,” Forrest admitted, “Bill Gates gave it to me on commission to sell. It’s a painting that he himself painted. He calls it Painting of A Build Back Better Sunset.”

“That’s a sunset?” Welles and Renfield both asked increduously at the same time.

Renfield put on his spectacles and Welles put on a ghostly spectral monocle.

Both man and ghost reacted with horror.

Renfield vomitted all over the painting while Welles spewed forth ghostly ectoplasm.

“I have to say that’s a very significant improvement,” Forrest declared after the vomit and ectoplasm now found their way on to Bill Gates’ Build Back Better Sunset.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday June 18th
2021.

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Tanaka and The Pendlebrook Lyre

June 8, 2021 at 10:33 pm (Folklore, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was taking a stroll through a London park.

By chance, he happened to hear a lovely musical melody being played.

He looked and noticed a beautiful young woman playing a lyre.

He recognized the woman.

He had met her on a few occasions.

She was the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka.

She was wearing a beautiful and elegant classical Grecian dress.

When she had finished playing, she passed her lyre to the bandstand security detail for safekeeping and approached Renfield.

“Hello, Mr. Renfield,” she greeted him, “How are you?”.

“Very well, thank you, Tanaka,” Renfield tipped his hat, “And you?”.

“I’m very well, thank you,” she smiled.

“That was a lovely lyre you were playing,” Renfield noted, “Where did you get it?”.

“I bought it from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery,” she answered, “who purchased it from the Pendlebrook Estate.”

“Ah yes, the Pendlebrook Estate,” Renfield nodded, “I understand the last Lord Pendlebrook died in Berlin, Germany on May 7th 1945 the same day that Germany unconditionally surrendered. But it took until early this year before the Estate was finally settled. And that only happened because one of the sole remaining litigant/claimants died after receiving the Covid-19 vaccine. Otherwise the matter might still be before the courts. It was like a long running Charles Dickens Bleak House novel.”

“So I understand,” Tanaka replied.

“That lyre certainly sounded divine,” Renfield acknowledged, “I wonder how the Pendlebrook family got ahold of it?”.

“According to a Pendlebrook family journal that Dashwood Forrest also purchased,” Tanaka explained, “Lord Peter Pendlebrook the First acquired it in 1810 after seeing a woman jump off a Cornish cliff into the sea during a raging sea storm. Pendlebrook rushed to the cliff but saw no sign of the woman. However he discovered that she had left a lyre behind. This is that same lyre.”

“It appears,” Renfield commented, “that the Pendlebrook lyre is like a good Scotch whisky. It gets better with age.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday June 8th
2021.

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Dashwood Forrest Visits The Cornish Coast

May 28, 2021 at 10:32 pm (Folklore, Ghost Story, Horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London decided to spend a few days away from London.

He decided to visit the coast of Cornwall and checked into a comfortable Bed and Breakfast in a small village on the Cornish coast.

He had heard on the radio in his room that a ferocious storm was approaching the coast.

Instead of being frightened by it, Forrest was excited about the idea of watching a storm on the Cornish coast.

It brought back those old stories of pirates and cutthroats and shipwrecks and ghosts that he had heard about the Cornish coast as a child.

He put on his heavy rainjacket and headed down to the cliff near the village to watch the storm unfold.

As he sat on the edge of the cliff, Forrest watched the tempest begin.

Storm clouds turned from gray to fierce black.

The waves churned and roared with all the fearsome turbulence the angry sea had to offer.

A streak of lightning came down seeking to pierce and slice the waves while thunder roared its approval.

Forrest thought he heard a voice cry out, “It’s a long way from the Cape of Good Hope to the coast of Cornwall.”

Strange, Forrest thought.

And then he looked and saw that infamous ghost ship The Flying Dutchman being tossed to and fro through the combatting waves while an eerie green ghostly light surrounded the ship and its torn masts.

The ship crashed and was torn apart on the jagged rocks under the cliff below.

Bodies of men appeared on the beach.

Bodies that quickly became skeletons.

And then turned to dust.

The broken wood of the ship seemed to vanish among the sea foam that washed up on to the beach.

Forrest sat there petrified and staring in disbelief at what he saw.

Meanwhile in London, Dashwood Forrest’s good friend Sherrielock Holmes was looking after the gallery for him.

British MP Renfield R. Renfield entered the gallery.

“Where’s Dashwood?” Renfeld asked.

“He’s taking a well deserved vacation,” Sherrielock answered, “Down to the Cornish coast.”

“Good for him,” Renfield nodded, “So any new items in the gallery?”.

“In fact, a new parcel came in this evening,” Sherrielock replied, “Containing a most magnificent and unusual painting. I’ve already had it unpacked and put on the wall over there.”

Renfield went over to look at the painting.

“I have the feeling,” Renfield remarked, “that Dashwood will be very surprised when he sees this.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 28th
2021.

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Morgan Le Fay

May 21, 2021 at 10:40 pm (Art, Arts, Ghost Story, History, painting, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Picture of Morgan Le Fay

“So you’re trying to track down the original painting that appears at this website?” British MP Renfield R. Renfield asked Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

“I am,” Forrest nodded, “I’ve come across sketches of this portrait in various books and they say it’s a portrait of Morgan Le Fay.”

“The Arthurian era enchantress?” Renfield sipped a martini, “But the woman in this portrait looks like a woman of the 1930s judging by her hairstyle and style of dress. I thought Morgan Le Fay died back in the Arthurian era.”

“There were rumours that back in 1930 an archaeologist found her grave on the Isle of Avalon not far from Glastonbury and a spiritist medium friend of the archaeologist used her incredible occultic powers to bring Morgan Le Fay back from the dead,” Forrest explained.

“And someone in the decade of the 1930s painted her picture?” Renfield finished his martini.

“Yes,” Forrest nodded.

“I wonder who?” Renfield looked at the website photograph of the painting as Forrest shrugged.

. . .

The ghost of Winston Churchill and the ghost of Orson Welles were sitting in comfortable armchairs in the living room of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal West London estate.

Both were smoking spectral cigars.

Churchill was sipping a spectral brandy.

And Welles was sipping a spectral glass of spectral red wine.

“Anyways,” Churchill continued with his story to Welles, “In my painting career, I painted in various different painting styles. I once painted what looked to be in style a black and white photo of Morgan Le Fay but it was actually a painting. One I must say I was exceptionally proud of. Sadly, Clementine didn’t like it and gave it away to someone. She wouldn’t say who. She didn’t want me to get it back. I think Clementine was jealous of Morgan Le Fay’s exceptional beauty.”

“Do you mean Morgan Le Fay the Arthurian era enchantress?” Welles almost spilled his spectral glass of spectral red wine all over his ghostly suit, “But I thought she died back in Arthurian times.”

“She was apparently brought back from the dead in 1930,” Churchill explained.

“Is she still alive today?” Welles asked.

. . .

“Is this seat taken?” The beautiful and attractive young woman asked Dracul Van Helsing in the Saint George’s Pub.

“No, it most definitely is not,” Van Helsing answered.

The woman sat down in the pub booth directly across from Dracul Van Helsing.

Her dress, her fur covering, her necklace, her gloves, her hairstyle and appearance seem to have been accurately and prophetically depicted by one Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill many decades ago.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 21st
2021.

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The One and The Many

April 3, 2021 at 10:26 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

London art and antiques curator Dashwood Forrest was sitting in his office at the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London prior to a meeting.

He was listening to the news on the radio read by British MP Renfield R. Renfield

“Last night two London policemen stopped a Good Friday liturgy from being said in the Polish Catholic Christ the King parish in London.
Two policemen entered the sanctuary without showing any respect for the religious ceremony, marched to the altar and threatened the faithful with fines and even arrest if they remained in the Church.
The priest (showing the spineless courage of most UK Catholic bishops) asked the faithful to obey and the congregation left the church.”

Forrest turned off the radio and put on the TV to listen to the BBC World News read by Geeta Guru-Murthy.

The anchorwoman was reading a similar story, “And after the incident at Christ the King Polish Catholic Parish, another pair of London policemen went to the Anglo-Catholic Parish of Saint Genevieve in West London where a Good Friday service was being held by the parish’s vicar Father Aidan Bury Saint Edmunds in disobedience to recent decrees by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
When they announced they would fine and arrest anyone who remained in the Church, they were immediately set upon and beat up by British MP Renfield R. Renfield who was attending the service with his friend Amadeus Emanon a member of the parish congregation.
Both policemen were rushed to hospital where they are reported to be in comatose condition.”

As Metropolitan London’s Fascist Police Commissioner Cressida Dick (who had spent most of the past 24 hours enrolled in a Zoom seminar examining the benefits of the Big Brother system written about in George Orwell’s novel 1984) came to her office, she was informed that two of her Metropolitan London Fascist policemen were in hospital in a “non-medically induced coma”.

Dashwood Forrest was then reading on his computer the latest statistics from the Center For Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia.

Statistics that would no doubt go unreported by the mainstream news media.

The report was on the number of vaccine deaths (deaths caused by vaccines) in the first quarter of 2021.

The report was then compared with the number of vaccine deaths (deaths caused by vaccines) in the first quarter of 2020.

The number of deaths caused by vaccines from January 1st 2020 to March 31st 2020 was 36 deaths.

The number of deaths caused by vaccines from January 1st 2021 to March 31st 2021 was 2,213.

That is a 6000% increase in the number of deaths caused by vaccines for the first quarter this year compared with the same quarter last year.

He could well imagine his friend Renfield saying, “Gee, I wonder what vaccines they’ve introduced to the market in the space of one year that’s suddenly causing a massive increase in the number of deaths caused overall by vaccines?”.

At that moment, his friend Renfield rang the doorbell of the gallery.

Forrest opened it and let the MP in.

“I understand you have something to show me,” said Renfield.

“Yes, it’s a fragment of an ancient Latin parchment under glass,” Forrest took him over to the glass display case.

Renfield (whose Latin was as rusty as that of the late British Prime Minister Sir Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill) read the English translation on the outside of the display case, THE ONE MADE A SACRIFICE FOR THE MANY AND SOMEDAY THE MANY SHALL MAKE A SACRIFICE FOR THE (ONE).

“Why is the One in the latter part of the quote in parentheses?” Renfield inquired.

“A friend of mine from the Faculty of Classics at Cambridge University examined the fragment and thinks it’s part of a lost manuscript written by Saint Augustine when he was making the transition from Neo-Platonism to Christianity,” Forrest explained, “The One was the name of the deity in Neo-Platonism and Augustine was using that title for Christ in this statement. The One in parentheses in the English translation is a counterfeit One. Hence the parentheses. The Antichrist in the Classics scholar’s opinion. Just as Christ sacrificed Himself for many (“This is my Blood of the New Covenant which is shed for you and for many” as Christ told His Apostles at the Last Supper) so someday many will have to be sacrificed in order to bring about the arrival of the counterfeit One- the Antichrist.”

“That is interesting,” Renfield nodded, “Christ sacrificed Himself to save many. And someday many will have to be sacrificed to bring forth the One- the Counterfeit “One” – the Antichrist. And the past couple of years all public memorials of Christ’s Sacrifice for the Many have been banned, harrassed or discouraged all over the planet. And people are dying from a virus released by a Chinese Commie lab. And who knows how many are going to die from the supposed antidote for it. Maybe enough deaths to bring about the arrival of the counterfeit One.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday April 3rd
2021.

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Jack The Ripper Nosferatu

March 31, 2021 at 10:22 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield received an email from Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol.

Whitstable was doing research into Count Orlok Nosferatu the bald-headed vampire who was the subject of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 German Expressionist silent film Nosferatu.

Whitstable had come across a diary from 1888 in which Count Orlok Nosferatu claimed that he had turned the man Scotland Yard called Jack the Ripper into a nosferatu back in the spring of 1888.

And that the murders of the Ripper’s Autumn of Terror in London in the late summer and early autumn of 1888 was Jack the Ripper going through an intense blood lust common to beginning nosferatu.

As he matured in his nosferatuhood, Jack settled down and just bit women on the neck to remove their blood instead of cutting their throats and removing their internal organs like he did when he was the Leather Apron Whitechapel Murderer of the Autumn of 1888.

After reading the email, Renfield recalled an antique journal that London art gallery curator Dashwood Forrest had come across written by a woman named Colleen Darcy O’ Derby who had apparently worked in a brothel in the seaside town resort of Brighton.

The experience that happened to Miss O’ Derby one spring night in 1889 struck Renfield as being an encounter with a nosferatu.

Renfield rang Forrest up and asked if he could take a look at the journal.

Forrest agreed and Renfield drove over in his 1937 Peugeot 402 Darl’mat to the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

Taking a look at the March 31st 1889 Journal entry, Renfield read in Miss Colleen Darcy O’Derby’s own words,

“This Jack as he called himself was a peculiar client.
Peculiar and repugnant.
He had a bald head, an elongated face, a flat nose, sinister lips, a mountainous chin and deadset eyes.
Like a human skull that still had a thin layer of flesh attached to it.
I could not sleep with the man no matter how much he paid me.
I ran from the room.
Along a boardwalked path that still had a chill in the air.
It felt more like winter than spring.
The few trees and few bushes along the path had the look of dead late autumn to them.
I felt like something was behind me.
A giant head without a body.

I turned and that’s exactly what it was.
A giant head without a body.
I screamed.
He gave a leering smile and a body of a caped figure carrying a walking stick suddenly appeared below the giant head as it shrank in size and attached itself to the body of the caped figure carrying the walking stick.
He spoke, in a hiss, like a snake, “I should do to you what I did to those women in Whitechapel last fall.”
I froze.
Was he the Whitechapel Murderer?
Leather Apron?
Jack the Ripper?
“But you’re too beautiful for that,” he grinned like the face of sinister Death as depicted in Churches built during the era of the Black Death.
Fangs protruded from his sinister lips and he bit me on the neck.
I could feel the blood and the life force drifting out of me.
He stopped.
He spoke, “You have only one ounce of blood left my dear. Should I drain it and turn you into a nosferatu? No. No, my dear. Your hair is far too beautiful for that. Baldness does not become you. A mere vampiress you shall be. Not nosferatu.”
And with that, he departed into the dark stormy sky from whence he came.
And I became a vampiress.”

“Very interesting,” Renfield made notes.

He then closed the journal, thanked Dashwood Forrest and returned to his car.

A beautiful woman with beautiful beautiful long long dark hair stood watching him as he got into his 1937 Peugeot 402 Darl’mat Roadster.

She smiled.

Her fangs glistened in the dark.

She put her hands through her long dark luxurious hair and laughed.

She was definitely vampiress.

But not nosferatu.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 31st
2021.

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Portrait of Tapairu The Tahitian Sleeping Beauty

March 21, 2021 at 10:27 pm (Art, Arts, History, Romance, Short Story, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Portrait of Tapairu the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty

“What an absolutely beautiful painting,” Sherrielock Holmes the (quite literally) immortal twin sister of London consulting detective Sherlock Holmes gazed at the newest acquisition now hanging in the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

Mr. Truffles her orange tabby cat purred in agreement and looked up affectionately at the painting.

“It was painted in Tahiti back in 1894 by one Sean Seamus O’ Gill an Irish painter and artist who lived on the island of Tahiti around the same time as the French artist Paul Gauguin,” Dashwood Forrest the art gallery owner and curator explained, “sadly Mr. O’ Gill is not as well known as Gauguin.”

As the old grandfather clock chimed in the gallery and the statue of a gnome emerged out of a small drawer to turn over an hourglass whose sands had just run out, images from a past time seemed to filter into the present.

Sean Seamus O’ Gill looked at the vision in front of him.

“What a vision,” Sean Seamus O’ Gill remarked to the French missionary priest Father Jacques La Croix.

“It’s like that old Irish hymn whose lyrics begin “Be thou my vision”, eh, Sean?” Father La Croix smiled.

“I guess you could phrase it that way,” Sean nodded, “She does look divine.”

“That she does,” Father La Croix agreed.

“Are you sure she wouldn’t object to being painted while sleeping?” Sean asked.

“No,” Father La Croix shook his head, “She wants to be painted while sleeping. She wants this portrait to be called the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty. She wants to give it as a gift to the man she’s going to marry.”

“She’s engaged?” A look of disappointment crossed Sean’s face.

“Nothing official yet,” Father La Croix answered, “but she hopes to be.”

And so that was how Sean Seamus O’ Gill came to paint the portrait of Tapairu the Tahitian sleeping beauty.

Over the next few months, Sean would sketch drawings and eventually paint pictures afterwards of Tapairu dancing at night in the village center like a royal dancer.

He would sketch drawings and paint pictures afterwards of Tapairu singing to school children during the day.

One of the village matriarchs took notice of his work.

“I’ve been told that an artist likes to depict a subject he loves,” she smiled.

“Um… Tapairu just makes a good subject,” The artist seemed to blush, “That’s all.”

Sean did wonder though which of the many suitors that seemed to want to attract Tapairu’s attention, Tapairu had given her heart to.

On the night of Sean’s birthday, many of the villagers gave Sean gifts.

Tapairu gave Sean a carefully wrapped and rather large present.

Sean opened it.

This was what he saw.

Sean then remembered the words of Father La Croix that she wanted to give the portrait of the Tahitian Sleeping Beauty as a gift to the man she wanted to marry.

Tapairu smiled happily at him.

Sean smiled happily back.

-A short story and
vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 21st 2021.

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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.

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The Medusa Portrait

August 13, 2020 at 11:18 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, painting, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )


The Medusa Portrait

Dr. Lionel Jarrett a professor of Classics at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan stood looking at his daughter Eva while London art gallery curator Dashwood Forrest (owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery) stood alongside a portrait painting of the famous Medusa.

The portrait of Medusa had been painted by Oscar Wilde who was much better known for his witty repartee, his plays, his short stories, his poems, his children’s stories and his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray than he was for artistically painting pictures.

It was only recently that Dashwood Forrest in his research and investigations had uncovered that Wilde was an artist (in the painting sense of that term) as well as a writer.

Wilde had apparently painted this picture of Medusa after a wild night of drinking absinthe and trying to write a poem about her.

In his dream that inspired the painting, Wilde had Medusa sit for him while he set up his canvas, palette and paints.

Medusa had returned for this sitting just after her appointment with her gay Spartan hairdresser.

Boasted the hairdresser at her appointment, “I had 299 fellow Spartans at my backside making us a noble band of 300 but I refused to bow the knee to the King of Persia.”

The hairdresser’s bloodcurdling tale had caused serpentlike curls to form at the top of Medusa’s hair which Wilde was able to capture in this sitting.

The serpents of course never did leave Medusa’s hair.

It really was the Hairstyling Appointment From Hell.

When Wilde woke up, he discovered that he had been sleep painting and had painted the portrait to its final finish.

Dr. Lionel Jarrett looking at his daughter Eva said he’d buy the painting for her.

The ghost of Orson Welles (just recently returned from Luxor, Egypt) took a black and white photo of the happy moment.

. . .

A naked Donald Trump was in the shower showering his golden toupee as his son-in-law Jared Kushner sat blindfolded outside the clear screen see-through screen shower cubicle.

“So, Jared,” Trump was using Johnson’s Baby Shampoo, “How did you get Israel and the United Arab Emirates to agree to establish diplomatic relations with one another?”.

“Well, Ivanka asked her friend London art gallery owner Dashwood Forrest to ask his friend the ex-Gorgon Medusa to visit a gay hairdresser in the town of Sparti, Greece (which lies at the site of ancient Sparta) and when she got snakes back in her hair, she was going to visit both Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Abu Dhabi Crown Prince Mohammed Al Nayhan and turn them to stone unless they agreed to establish diplomatic relations with each other.”

“So the answer to establishing peace is to get stoned?” Trump asked Kushner.

Meanwhile down in his basement, Democratic Party presumptive Presidential nominee Joe Biden was talking to his pet pot smoking desert cactus plant whom he had named Sweet Dementia, “Wow, that’s really crazy, man. You mean Kamala is descended from a slave owning family on the island of Jamaica and not descended from slaves? Wow, that really blows my mind. Good thing for me, my mind was blown a long time ago. Fortunately for me, most of the mainstream news media in this country are all disinformation branches of the New World Order Ministry of Propaganda and won’t bother mentioning that. Since Kamala and I are going to bring the Marxist New World Order to America. Now, I think I’ll go take a shower, Sweet Dementia. Care to join me?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 13th
2020.

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Dorian Gray and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

May 19, 2020 at 10:57 pm (Art, Arts, Gothic, Gothic romance, Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Dorian Gray and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was walking through the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.

It was a private visit as the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery still hadn’t been granted permission by the UK government to publicly open during lockdown.

As Dashwood Forrest hurried back to his office because his office phone was ringing, the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka continued to walk down the halls of the gallery.

She entered a room marked PRIVATE as Forrest told her to treat the gallery as if it were her own home.

She noticed nothing in the room except for a pair of purple velvet curtains.

She opened the curtains and behind them were two portrait oil paintings. 

One was a portrait of a young man.

And the other was a portrait of a teddy bear.

She recognized the young man in the portrait.

His name was Dorian Gray.

For the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka was an immortal.

In the summer of 1878, she had ridden a rare creature- a white buffalo- and as a result of that experience she became immortal.

That autumn, she had gone to London, England where she had lived ever since.

Also that autumn, she had met a dashing young man by the name of Dorian Gray.

After a whirlwind tour of sights and spots throughout England with Dorian, Tanaka thought that she was in love.

Dorian had invited her down to the seaside holiday spot of Brighton with him.

The Lakota Sioux Princess was sure that Dorian was going to ask her to marry him.

Dorian proposes marriage to the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka on the seashore at Brighton.

Tanaka said yes.

Later in Dorian’s hotel room, she went into his bedroom as he was out in the hall chatting to the bell boy.

She was shocked to discover a bunch of female human heads – all of them beautiful (for Dorian Gray did not have the exceptionally high IQ of a Pan Goatee) and perfectly preserved stored in jars of formaldehyde.

“Dorian!” She exclaimed when he walked back into the room, “What are these?”.

Dorian looked shocked and bit his lip, “Er… Um… You know how some people like collecting beautiful butterflies or beautiful seashells or beautiful autumn leaves or beautiful pressed flowers, I… um… like collecting heads of beautiful women.”

“But that’s sick!” Tanaka was shocked.

“But I’ve been invited to the Rothschild’s masked ball dinner party every year for the past 18 years!” Dorian protested, “How can you call someone who’s been invited to the Rothschild masked ball dinner party for that long sick?”.

Tanaka left slamming the door behind her.

“Does this mean the engagement is off?” Dorian called out from the balcony of his hotel room as she entered a horse carriage and the carriage drove away.

Dorian and Tanaka never saw one another again.

Later she heard the body of an unknown old man stabbed in the heart was found in Dorian Gray’s house in London.

Dorian himself was never seen again.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 19th
2020.

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