Isabelle Rocher and The Ghost of Prof. James Moriarty

October 4, 2022 at 10:56 pm (Culture, Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Isabelle Rocher or Brigitte Bardot?

The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London was having a photo exhibit of original photos of European actresses.

On this particular early October evening (it had been exactly 3 years since the satanic AntiPope Jorge Mario Bergoglio aka Pope Francis had brought an idol of the demoness Pachamama into the Vatican Gardens to help open the Vatican Synod On The Amazon) it just so happened that the ghost of Prof. James Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy) was wondering the streets of London.

Hades had granted Moriarty’s ghost a dispensational release from the Realm of the Underworld at the request of the demoness Pachamama.

Moriarty’s ghost noticed The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery and decided to enter.

He stared intently at a photograph of noted French actress Brigitte Bardot.

He kept saying over and over again, “Isabelle Rocher, Isabelle Rocher.”

“No,” Dashwood Forrest the owner of the gallery approached the ghostly spectral leader, “That’s Brigitte Bardot the famous French actress.”

“She looks exactly like my French mistress Isabelle Rocher,” the brilliant mathematician and criminal mastermind was astounded at the resemblance, “although I never saw her wear a skirt that looked like that. If I had, I’d have probably got hornier and had sex with her a lot sooner.”

“When did this Isabelle Rocher live?” Dashwood Forrest inquired.

“Back in the 19th Century,” Moriarty replied.

“No not many women wore skirts that looked like that back in the 19th Century,” Dashwood Forrest admitted, “save possibly women who worked in the inside of bordellos.”

“I had fled to Latin America when she told me that she was pregnant,” Moriarty recalled, “And when I returned to France, I discovered that she had given birth to a son called Louis. They left Paris and went to the French countryside somewhere. I could never track them down. I saw Louis’ baptismal certificate and she had listed the father as unknown. So I imagine he took his mother’s last name for his own. Louis Rocher would have been his name.”

“There was a famous French scientist called Dr. Louis Rocher who was shot down and killed by the Red Baron the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed,” Dashwood Forrest recalled.

“The Red Baron?” Moriarty’s ghostly face looked quizzical.

“I’ll explain the history later,” Forrest was familiar with entertaining the dead as he once had had an Irish zombie named Mulligan as a manservant.

“And did this Dr. Louis Rocher have any offspring?” Moriarty inquired.

“He did,” Forrest nodded, “In fact his great- grandson Dr. Cadbury Rocher is the chief scientist for Set Enterprises here in London.”

“I wonder who Louis Rocher’s wife was?” Prof. James Moriarty mused aloud.

“Sherrielock Holmes,” Forrest answered.

Moriarty’s jaw dropped, “Sherlock Holmes’ lesser known twin sister?”.

“That’s her,” Forrest nodded.

“You mean I have descendents that have both Holmes and Moriarty blood in them?” Prof. Moriarty was shocked out of his skull.

In fact Moriarty had carried his skull with him out of Hades and had now dropped it on the art gallery floor.

At that moment British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the quite literally immortal Sherrielock Holmes (she had once consumed Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms on one occasion that had made her immortal) entered the gallery.

“Prof. Moriarty!” Sherrielock exclaimed in surprise as she recognized the ghost.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 4th
2022.

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Sherrielock Holmes and The White Horse

October 3, 2022 at 10:31 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Sherrielock Holmes and her white horse Excalibur Lightning as they appear in an Edwardian Age photo.

The date was October 3rd 1902.

Exactly 120 years ago.

And the amazing and wonderful Sherrielock Holmes (the lesser known twin sister of world-famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes) was getting her photo taken by the famous London photographer Wilfrid Rutherford.

She and her white horse Excalibur Lightning.

“I hope your photo of you and Lightning turn out well,” Sherlock remarked as he smoked his pipe.

“I’m sure it will,” Sherrielock smiled.

“I say, Holmes, you know I saw Excalibur Lightning eating some mushrooms this morning along with his hay,” Dr. Watson commented.

“Mushrooms?” Holmes raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Sherrielock laughed, “Lightning must have got into some of my Lingzhi Supernatural Mushrooms.”

“Does that mean he’s become immortal like you?” Watson put some black mascara on his gray moustache so it would look black again.

“I don’t know,” Sherrielock shrugged, “I’ll have to ask Louis if a horse eating Lingzhi Supernatural Mushrooms will make him immortal.”

Sherrielock was referring to her husband Dr. Louis Rocher the world-famous French scientist (who unbeknownst to both Sherrielock and her brother Sherlock was in fact the illegitimate son of Holmes’ archenemy Prof. James Moriarty).

A few years ago Dr. Louis prepared a dish using Lingzhi Supernatural Mushrooms for his wife Sherrielock that made her immortal.

“You sure you don’t want Louis to prepare the same dish for you?” Sherrielock asked Sherlock.

“I don’t want to live forever in this body,” Holmes answered, “And immortality through Watson’s literary efforts in The Strand Magazine using his friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s name is quite enough for me.”

“As it is for me, Holmes, as it is for me,” Watson acknowledged.

“If that’s the case, good Doctor,” Sherrielock smiled, “Then why are you colouring your gray moustache black using my eye mascara?”.

Watson’s face turned quite red.

“And if Excalibur Lightning becomes immortal,” Sherlock asked his sister, “then what will you two do?”.

Sherrielock suddenly thought she saw the image of the great Serb-American inventor Nikola Tesla appear before her.

Tesla said to her, “Ride to Moscow to save Kyiv and the world. Ride to Moscow to save Kyiv and the world.”

Then the image of Tesla vanished.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday October 3rd
2022.

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Klondike Helen

April 21, 2022 at 10:11 pm (Detective story, Ghost Story, History, Literature, Poetry, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Klondike Helen the belle of Dawson City during the days of the Klondike Gold Rush

She had been born Helen McGarrett (no relation to Steve McGarrett of Hawaii Five-0 fame) in Montreal, Canada in 1875.o

When news of the Klondike Gold Rush in Canada’s northern territory of Yukon spread far and wide throughout North America, Helen headed up to Dawson City (a town built at the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers) the site of the Gold Rush to seek fame and fortune.

The year was 1899 and a stranger from London England arrived to see Klondike Helen.

And there she was standing in front of the piano in Klondike Jack’s Saloon.

“You’re Miss Helen McGarrett?” The stranger asked.

“I am,” Helen nodded, “Who are you?”.

“I’m Sherlock Holmes,” the pipe smoking man in the deerstalker cap answered.

“The famous London detective?” Helen was astonished, “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”.

“What I am doing here is I’ve been hired by the McGrew family of Liverpool to investigate the death of a family member who died here in Dawson City. A fellow by the name of Dan McGrew. His nickname was Dangerous Dan McGrew. When the family received word of his death, they said he was shot in an argument with some gold miner over a woman known as Lou. I’m here to investigate the truth of his death. As for how I got here… well I happen to know a fellow named Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin a retired German army officer. He’s just invented an airship and didn’t want any Germans to die in the testing of it. So along with an English balloonist and myself, we travelled in this airship across the Atlantic and across the Arctic and then across Canada’s northern terrain until we arrived here. We’ve arrived safely. How we’ll make out in the return journey home is yet to be seen.”

“And you think I know something about the death of Dan McGrew?” Helen inquired.

“I was told you’re a friend of the woman known as Lou,” Holmes explained, “By the way, where is Lou? No one seems to know where she is.”

“She’s dead,” Helen answered, “Staked through the heart.”

“Staked through the heart?” Holmes was surprised.

“She was a vampiress,” said Helen, “And Lou turned Dan McGrew into a vampire as he lay dying from the gunshot wounds inflicted by the jealous miner husband’s gun. So McGrew died twice. First being shot by the jealous miner. And then being staked through the heart after he became a vampire.”

“Good God,” said Holmes.

“Good void,” said a miner who was trying to write a science-fiction poem about the Klondike.

“Who staked them through the heart?” Holmes re-lit his pipe.

“The same man,” Helen replied, “Barnabas Van Helsing. The younger brother of the famous Dr. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“Well,” Holmes blew smoke rings, “I suppose I better tell the McGrew family the original story about the shooting involving the jealous gold miner and the wife of the jealous gold miner- the woman known as Lou. Talk of vampires and vampiresses might send me to the looney bin.”

Holmes left the saloon and walked out into the night to his waiting Zeppelin airship for the cold journey home.

Another man approached Klondike Helen.

“You’re Klondike Helen I presume?” The man asked.

“Who wants to know?” Helen looked into his eyes.

“The name’s Van Helsing,” the man tipped his fedora hat, “Dracul Van Helsing. I was looking at my great-great-uncle Barnabas Van Helsing’s photo collection the other day and your picture in black and white was there. So I travelled back in time using this Houdini-Pantages-Tesla-Welles-Lamarr magic lantern so that I can take a colour photo of you.”

“Pantages did you say?” Klondike Helen blinked, “There’s a waiter in town here called Alexander Pantages.”

“He was one of those who helped develop this time travelling magic lantern,” Van Helsing explained, “along with the magician Harry Houdini and the great Serb-American inventor Nikola Tesla. Years later a brilliant young director and actor named Orson Welles also worked on it. The finishing touches were finally completed by a brilliant actress and inventor named Hedy Lamarr who finally made it fully operational.”

Dracul Van Helsing then took a colour photo of Klondike Helen.

“Anything else?” Klondike Helen asked.

“I’d like to make out with you,” said Van Helsing.

They went up to Klondike Helen’s room and got down on the bed.

As they made out, they were unbeknownst to the fact that the ghost of Orson Welles was also in the room sitting in a chair and eating some take-out food that he had brought with him from Lydo Chinese Food and Delivery in London in the year 2022.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday April 21st
2022.

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Witchcraft and Sorcery On Sherlock Holmes’ 168th Birthday

January 6, 2022 at 10:41 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Sherrielock Holmes who is Sherlock Holmes’ immortal twin sister (she became immortal after eating Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms something that Sherlock never did) turns 168 today.

Looking wonderful for her age!

Sherrielock Holmes attended an Anglican Church C. Of E. Epiphany service for her birthday today.

Meanwhile witchcraft and sorcery were happening around the world on this night of Epiphany (which is Julian Calendar Christmas Eve in the Byzantine Russian and Ukrainian Orthodox Churches).

The European Council of Catholic Bishops was busy worshipping the demons Baal and Baphomet on this evening.

Archbishop Vinzenzo Paglia the President of the Pontifical Academy For Life was busy kneeling in front of and worshipping a statue of Santa Muerte who is Mexico’s female saint/goddess of death (who is really Samael the Archangel of Death mentioned in the Babylonian Talmud who had become transgendered while living in Mexico in the 1930s and associating with a group of artists that included Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera).

Texas Sen. Ted Cruz was being initiated into the Cult of Baphomet.

He was being initiated in a gay bathouse by the transgendered hermaphrodite goat/human hybrid demon Baphomet.

Leaving the gay bathouse after the initiation, Texas Sen. Ted Cruz was like the athlete who joined a gay football team (he went into huddle as a tight end and came out a wide receiver).

After the initiation Sen. Cruz became a Neo-Bolshevik Communist and called the January 6th 2021 protestors a “bunch of violent terrorists who should go to jail for a long long time.”

After making the statement Sen. Cruz had a Gillette shaving cream pie thrown in his face by an invisible entity.

His drunken bodyguards (whose faces were all covered with boils a situation that had arisen after they all got their third booster shots) who had been drinking Harvey Wallbangers all day swore that it was a 6 foot 8 tall purple bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears who had thown the Gillete shaving cream pie into Sen. Cruz’s face.

Meanwhile France’s Neo-Vichy Fascist and Neo-Stalinist hybrid President Emmanuel Macron said the unvaccinated of France should no longer be considered “French citizens”.

British MP Renfield R. Renfield appeared on a pirate French television station channel drinking a glass of Paul Masson Wine and said, “I’ve been saying this since December of 2020 and I will say it again… Emmanuel Macron should be eliminated from the face of the Earth.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 6th
2022.

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Is The Cure Worse Than The Disease?

October 8, 2021 at 10:57 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Religion, Sorcery, Technology, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

“The vaccine wasn’t developed for the virus. The virus was developed for the vaccine.”
-British MP Renfield R. Renfield

While the mainstream media was busy blathering away the latest globlalist propaganda bullshit and political leaders all across the globe were coming down like the Full Adolf and the Full Stalin on their citizens, the ghosts of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were calmly sitting in the sitting room of the London based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

Holmes was smoking a pipe and Watson was enjoying a spot of tea.

The two had been dispensationally released from the Underworld of Hades at the request of Anubis who was Set’s jackal-headed son.

“So, Watson, we know that back in the late 20-teens, the egotistical jackass Dr. Anthony Fauci (good friend of Bill Gates and other leading globalists) had started funding Gain-of-Function research specifically into the bat coronavirus at the Wuhan Institute of Virology. Then sometime in the late autumn of 2019/early winter of 2020 (right after the satanic antipope Jorge Mario Bergoglio had welcomed the demonic dragon/human female shapeshifting Inca earth mother goddess Pachamama into the Vatican) reports of a strange respiratory disease started surfacing in the city of Wuhan. The WHO (whose biggest funders are Bill Gates and the Chinese Communist regime in Beijing) blamed it on market stalls selling bats at a Wuhan wet market. Unbiased evidence suggests that the virus was actually released from the Wuhan Institute of Virology itself.
Now the question is, was it intentional or accidental?
Donald Trump in 2020 had ordered Operation Warpspeed against the Sars-Cov-2 Virus called Covid-19 by the pro-Communist WHO and called the Wuhan CCP Virus by intelligent people.
He had not ordered Warpspeed using regular vaccines but rather mRNA genetic serums which in 20 years of unsuccessful experiments on animals had killed off every single animal they had experimented on.
So what was good enough for animals was certainly good enough for humans as far as Big Pharma (the big pharmaceutical companies) was concerned.
Interesting Watson that pharmakeia the Greek word for pharmaceuticals is also the Greek word for sorcery as found in the Book of The Apocalypse Revelation 18:23 “For by thy sorceries were all nations deceived.”
Turning to the most recent statistics, the Vermont Department of Health (Vermont, home of Neo-Menshevik Bernie Sanders, is the most vaccinated state per capita in the American nation) has admitted that 76% of Covid deaths in Vermont the past month occurred in the fully vaccinated.
In fact the only places in the world where it is claimed according to the latest statistics (which may be damned lies in Benjamin Disraeli’s opinion) that it is the unvaccinated who are the majority in dying is in the Canadian prairie provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan.
Much chicanery and skulduggery is going on in those provinces.
Just as Albus Dumbledore had Hermione Granger in his army, so too Voldemorte has a Hermione (last name unknown) and it is her and her disciples at work in the Canadian provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan.
As you may not know, Watson, since you practiced medicine in a time when medicine actually was an honourable profession, these experimental gene-transfer Covid vaccines produce the loaded weapon of a toxic spike protein.
And this spike protein itself is independently pathnogenic.
So it’s possible that this “vaccine” with its independently pathnogenic spike protein is worse than the original Covid virus itself.
And it’s the pathnogenic spike protein in the Pfizer and Covid “vaccines” (genetic serums) that may in fact be the Delta variant that’s killing so many people vaccinated and unvaccinated alike.

The ghost of Orson Welles then ran an ancient film projector that showed the Nuremberg Rally of 1938 which showed a holographic image of Bill Gates being projected from the future saying, “It’s about the population control, stupid.”
This was followed by a holographic image of World Economic Forum Chairman Klaus Schwab saying, “It’s also about the Transhumanism, stupid.”
This was followed by a holographic image of Jorge Mario Bergoglio (aka Pope Francis) carrying his seminary report card prominently displaying an “F” in Latin and an “F” in Doctrinal Theology and saying, “Has anybody seen my Pachamama?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday October 8th
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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Young Sherlock Meets The Maiden of Glencoe

July 17, 2020 at 10:52 pm (Culture, Entertainment, History, Literature, Poetry, Romance) (, , , , , )


The Maiden of Glencoe

It was the summer of 1870
Otto von Bismarck was up to no good
as far as the French were concerned
On July 15th the French Army mobilized
The North German Confederation
responded with its own mobilization
later that same day.
A day later July 16th
The French Parliament
voted to declare
war on Prussia.
Due to lengthy wine and cheese breaks
among French postal service employees
and lengthy beer and Wiener Schnitzel breaks
among German postal service employees
The declaration of war didn’t reach Berlin
until 3 days later
July 19th 1870
when the war officially began.

But that was a couple of days away
For this was July 17th 1870
and young Sherlock Holmes
wasn’t all that concerned
with Europe’s geopolitical problems anyways
as he strode through the highlands of Scotland

He was walking through the valley of Glencoe
site of the infamous massacre of Glencoe
that took place on February 13th 1692
in which 30 members of the Clan MacDonald of Glencoe
were brutally murdered by members of the Campbell family

Sherlock had a sturdy staff in hand
as he walked
and talked to his imaginary friend
a talking bear
that he called Doctor Clawson

“Well, Clawson,” young Sherlock lit his imaginary pipe,
“This is the site of the Glencoe Massacre.
What do you make of it?”.
“Where’s all the blood, Holmes?”
Clawson asked
as he took in the spellbinding scenery.

“You’ve glanced through my history textbooks but obviously never read them,”
Holmes deduced as he blew imaginary smoke ,
“The Glencoe Massacre happened almost 200 years ago.
The blood has probably long dried up since then.”

“Well then if I was a vampire, I’d be shit out of luck,”
the colourful talking bear with the rather colourful vocabulary
remarked.

“Up among the heather…” young Sherlock started dancing like a young English public school boy dandy
as the imaginary bear Clawson covered his eyes in shock and horror
He had obviously put too much fruit helpings on his porridge this morning, Clawson deduced about young Sherlock

Sherlock stopped dancing like a dandy
when he went up over the hill
and came upon this vision below him

The Maiden of Glencoe

Young Sherlock let go of the wooden staff in his hand
and dropped his imaginary pipe
spilling non-existent ash over the heather
when he saw the maiden.

“Heavens above!” Young Sherlock gasped.

Their conversation began with a tete a tete
moved to a fete a fete
and climaxed with a pet a pet

Doctor Clawson looked on in horror
The fact that young Sherlock
would someday lose his virginity
was something the talking bear
had never deduced would happen
in his wildest dreams.

And it was after this
that Doctor Clawson the imaginary talking bear
wound up abandoned on the shelf of toys
where he would be joined by Little Jackie Piper’s friend
Puff the Magic Dragon
90 or so years later.

-A poem written by Christopher
Friday July 17th 2020.

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Fish and Chips With Holmes and Watson

May 17, 2019 at 10:28 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

It was a May evening in London at 221B Baker Street the residence of the world-famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes.

The year was 1899.

“Well, Holmes,” Dr. Watson put down his newspaper, “what do you deduce that Mrs. Hudson has made us for dinner tonight?”.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you this morning, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe, “Mrs. Hudson is going to a Church Auxiliary Tea and Bake Sale this evening so sadly for us, no fine dinner from Mrs. Hudson tonight.”

“Blast it, Holmes,” Watson grimaced, “I wish you had told me. I’d have gone for dinner at the club tonight.”

“What and leave me home alone, Watson?” Holmes smiled, “Leaving me to fend for myself?”.

“Damn right, I would, Holmes,” Watson nodded, “If I can’t enjoy Mrs. Hudson’s fine cooking, I can get a very fine beef steak at the club.”

“What say we go out for some good old English fish and chips, Watson?” Holmes started putting his rain coat on.

“All right,” Watson put his jacket and coat on, “seeing as how they’ve probably stopped serving dinner at the club an hour ago.”

Holmes and Watson exited their room, walked down the stairs and through Mrs. Hudson’s parlour out the front door.

“Where shall we go for Fish and Chips, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“I noticed just the other day that a new Fish and Chips place opened up a few blocks away, Watson,” Holmes pointed in the direction, “What say we try there?”.

“All right,” Watson agreed, “Lead on, MacDuff.”

The duo walked enjoying the evening air.

“Here’s the place,” Holmes pointed at the entrance with his walking stick.

“The Captain’s,” Watson looked at the sign above the door, “Quite an original name for a Fish and Chips place.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Watson,” Holmes remarked.

“Neither does being hungry,” Watson opened the door, “let’s go in.”

Inside both Holmes and Watson ordered the 3 pieces of Fish with Chips plate.

The detective ordered a brandy and his physician friend ordered a gin for liquid refreshment.

“Interesting portrait painting on the main wall, there,” Holmes said to the waiter when he brought the drinks, “who is that supposed to be?”.

“That is a picture of the Captain,” the waiter replied.

“He looks like a bloody pirate if you ask me,” Watson gazed at the painting.

“He was, sir,” the waiter nodded, “he was a pirate captain.”

“Oh, really,” Watson harrumphed, “What was his name?”.

“That we do not know, sir,” the waiter answered, “The restaurant’s owner bought that painting in an antique shop in Plymouth. The painting dates back to the 18th Century the antique dealer said. But who the man in the portrait is, he had no idea. But the painting inspired the owner to open up a Fish and Chip shop and call it The Captain’s named after the figure in the painting.”

“Bloody mysterious if you ask me,” Watson took a sip of his gin.

“And yet my trade is solving mysteries, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe again.

“So, who is the figure in the painting?” Watson asked Holmes.

“I’m afraid I’ve never really studied the history of 18th Century piracy in depth to hazard a guess,” Holmes blew smoke rings.

“What you mean there’s actually something that the great Sherlock Holmes does not know?” Watson laughed.

The waiter arrived with their Fish and Chips orders and both men raised knife and fork to tackle the huge succulent looking pieces of cod on their respective plates forgetting the question of the pirate in the painting.

“So, what made you decide on a Fish and Chips dinner tonight, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“A dream I had last night, actually,” Holmes took a sip of his brandy.

“But I didn’t think you put much stock in dreams, Holmes?” Watson had to smile.

“Normally I don’t,” Holmes admitted as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, “Still the Bard did write We are such stuff as dreams are made on. And it was a memorable dream I had to admit.”

“What was it?” Watson was curious.

“I dreamed I was aboard a boat and a large octopus… a Kraken actually of mythological folklore fame was drinking 120 barrels of rum,” Holmes sucked thoughtfully on his pipe.

“How did you know there were exactly 120 barrels?” Watson laughed, “You counted?”.

“Brilliant deduction, Watson,” Holmes shook his head in dismay, “Obviously I counted.”

“Holmes,” Watson put down his fork in exasperation, “You’re the only person I know who would spend time in his dream counting exactly how many barrels of rum a Kraken was drinking.”

The duo started getting quizzical looks from customers sitting at other tables.

“So, what significance is there to the number of rum barrels the Kraken was drinking?” Watson cut into another piece of cod, “What does the number 120 signify?”.

“God only knows, Watson,” Holmes poured vinegar on his chips, “The number of years perhaps.”

The detective shrugged.

“Let’s see,” Watson did arithmetic in his head, “120 years from now, that would be May 17th 2019.”

. . .

It was a Friday evening in London in May 2019 and Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery was removing an old oil painting he had just purchased from the crate it was in.

“Good heavens,” Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie spilled gin and brandy all over himself when he saw it, “That figure in the painting looks exactly like Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of The Caribbean.”

. . .

In the May evening in 1899, Holmes lit his pipe again and looked contemplatively at the ceiling.

“You know it’s strange, Watson,” Holmes’ pipe smoke headed in the direction of the portrait of the Captain.

“What’s that, Holmes?” Watson sipped his after dinner coffee.

“That we never seem to call one another by our first names like normal acquaintances seem to do,” Holmes chewed on his pipe.

Now there was a mystery.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 17th
2019.

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Cardi B. and The Time Traveller: A Poem

February 7, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, History, International Intrigue, Music, music videos, Mystery, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Singer Cardi B. flees Lancaster Hall in England in 1888 leaving behind a giant sized shoe.

“So you really expect me to believe you’re a time traveller from the year 2019?” Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes asked somewhat skeptically.

“Whether you believe it or not, it is true,” replied Dracul Van Helsing who had recently seen Achilles slay his enemy in a manner most Hectorly.

“I have worked on stranger cases,” Holmes admitted.

He looked at Dracul wondering if he should have him committed.

“And what do you mean by a hip hop singer?” Holmes looked as though he’d been through the ringer.

“Do not worry about musical terms from the future,” said Dracul, “rather worry about Cardi B. whom Vampiress Lilith wants to goose her.”

“May I ask why?” Holmes looked up at the dark sky.

“It has to do with Solomon and the Queen of Sheba,” Dracul stated in the midst of an atmospheric upheava.

Holmes looked confused, the coachman looked bemused and the estate cat looked amused.

“It has to do with Cardi B.’s real name,” Dracul played with an open window pane.

“Which is,” Van Helsing went on, “Belcalls Almanzar. Watch out for that falling star…

Holmes quickly jumped out of the way.

And the star landed in some hay.

Much to a hungry horse’s dismay.

His dinner went up in a blaze of smoke.

All that’s left- a solitary artichoke.

The horse ate the artichoke as Dracul continued his story,

“Lilith’s dealings with Solomon- somewhat gory…”

“But what does this have to do with Cardi B.?” Holmes lit his pipe under a tree.

“Her real name,” a soft breeze came, “Belcalls refers to the Queen of Sheba and Almanzar means watchtower. Watch that flower..”

Holmes avoided stepping on the Lancaster Hall estate’s red rose as the cat pranced about on tippy toes.

“So Lilith thinks Cardi B. is the watchtower of the Queen of Sheba,” Dracul went on, “so vampiress wreaks vengeance on Solomon by killing this singing diva.”

A scream went through the air as the terror that flies by night lost her shoes while Sherlock looked in the garden for more clues.

Cardi ran off after the terror by night while Lilith’s shoe glittered in the lamplight.

The next day, Cardi rode a white horse into the countryside

where horse and rider gave each other quite the ride.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 7th
2019.

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Celebrating Ragnarok Apocalypse In Chicago

February 1, 2019 at 11:57 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )


Semiramis the Queen of Babylon calls to Dracul Van Helsing for help from inside her hotel room at the Mysterious Goddess Hotel in Chicago.

She clutched a pair of scissors that Jack the Ripper (recently appointed head of New York’s Health Care, Hospital and Medical Clinic system by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo) tried to kill her with after he had watched the 1954 Alfred Hitchcock film Dial M For Murder on the hotel’s Pay TV channel.


Jack the Ripper likewise found himself caught in the vortex of time and place affecting the polar vortex in Chicago and found himself back in London on a moonlit evening in 1888.

Where suddenly he found himself peering through the keyhole of Sherlock Holmes’ room:

Suddenly the London 1888 full moon appeared over Chicago where it was promptly swallowed by the ghost of a T-Rex who came out on the losing end of the three horns of a triceratops:

After the Canadian vampire hunter had finished offering tantric sex comfort and sexual healing to Semiramis, Athena the Greek goddess of wisdom invited Dracul Van Helsing to visit her in the hotel room next door:

Come partake of my wisdom once again, Van Helsing.

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