Liaison At The Palais Garnier

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nicole sent a note back.

“What did you say?” Estelle asked.

“I said Oui,” Nicole answered.

“Oh, Nicole,” Estelle sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

Holmes ripped off the Phantom’s mask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Permalink 10 Comments

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.

Permalink 8 Comments

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.

Permalink 2 Comments

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.

Permalink Leave a Comment

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.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Sherrielock Holmes’ 165th Birthday

January 6, 2019 at 11:57 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Espionage, International Intrigue, love, News, Romance, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Today is the Feast Day of the Epiphany.

And it was on the Feast Day of The Epiphany in 1854 that two remarkable individuals were born.

Twins.

A boy and a girl.

The boy would go on to achieve fame and fortune as the world’s greatest consulting detective- Sherlock Holmes of 221 B Baker Street.

The girl would remain in the shadows.

One because of her chosen profession- that of a dominatrix.

And although her clientele included members of the British Empire’s high and mighty, no one wished to publicly speak of her.

She also worked for the most secret levels of British Intelligence.

She had been recruited into British Intelligence on the recommendation of one Winston Churchill in 1914 when he served in the World War I British cabinet as First Lord of The Admiralty.

By this time of course Sherrielock Holmes had achieved immortality.

Quite literally.

For she had eaten a specially prepared omelette made with Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms that had been developed by her husband the noted scientist Dr. Louis Rocher (who was ironically enough the illegitimate son of her twin brother’s mortal arch Prof. James Moriarty and a single unmarried French woman named Isabelle Rocher) which gave her immortality.

Dr. Rocher decided to wait to prepare a similar omelette and achieve immortality for himself.

A decision he came to regret after his plane was shot down by the Red Baron on April 20th 1918 just the day before the Red Baron was shot down himself by Canadian pilot Roy Brown on April 21st.

His immortal Lingzhi supernatural mushroom omelette recipe went to the ground with him.

Sherrielock Holmes left British Intelligence in 1920 and became a school teacher throughout the 1920s.


Sherrielock Holmes found her dominatrix training came in handy teaching in a girls’ school in the 1920s.


Living life briefly as a blonde, she also found her dominatrix experience came in handy teaching in a boys’ school in the 1920s.

Today of course, Sherrielock turned 165.

Her brother Sherlock had been offered one of Dr. Louis Rocher’s immortal omelettes as well but turned him down describing it as “oriental mumbo-jumbo” and “hocus pocus nonsense”.

Sherlock subsequently died of a massive cardiac arrest on May 28th 1937 upon hearing the news on BBC Radio that Neville Chamberlain had replaced Stanley Baldwin as Prime Minister of Britain.

German Fuhrer Adolf Hitler’s glee was the great British consulting detective’s death agony.

So Sherlock was not present at Sherrielock’s 165th Birthday party being held in the main dining room at the Savoy Hotel in London tonight hosted by her great-grandson Dr. Cadbury Rocher who was the chief scientist at Set Enterprises the research and development firm owned by the London based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

Dr. Cadbury Rocher was the man said to embody the best (and the worst) of Holmes and Moriarty blood.

His greatest testtube genetic creation was present- the shapeshifting hamster/human British MP Renfield R. Renfield widely touted to someday become the Prime Minister of Britain and the Sir Winston Churchill of the 21st Century.

Also present was Amadeus Emanon (Set’s personal concert pianist) who had recently started recording his own songs at a major London music and recording studio and those few music critics who had listened to his songs touted him as a future British music sensation to equal the likes of David Bowie and Freddie Mercury.

Not present was Pan Goatee who had run away from Set Enterprises laboratories to join an American electric music rock band back in 2013 and now worked as a contract assassin for America’s DARPA and a satyr serial killer of ugly women.

There were various genetically modified animals that Dr. Rocher had created as well- including Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster who was currently occupying a blow proof lobster tank in the dining room of the Savoy.

That new Rocher prototype lobster tank turned out not to be so blow proof when Sherrielock entered the Savoy dining room wearing her lovely evening dress.

Waiters and bus boys were still mopping up water and London private eyes Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley (who were a defeated British Conservative MP and defeated British Labour MP respectively) hired to provide security for the birthday party were trying to prevent Gordon Ramsay, who had mistaken Michelangelo for an ordinary crustacean, from placing him in a pot of boiling water.

Intelligence agents from Russia, China and Venezuela were also at the event hoping to discover Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s plans for the redevelopment of the ancient Hebrew general Joshua’s trumpets capable of bringing down any wall (which would virtually ensure that Donald Trump would be pissing $5.6 billion in U.S. taxpayers’ money down the drain).

Renfield was already on his Huawei smart phone communicating with his latest crush newly elected Democratic Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez:

“Now more than ever I think $5.6 billion would be better spent towards implementing a national public health insurance program that most civilized nations in the western world already have” – Renfield

As for another of Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s creations, the genetically recreated winged horse Pegasus was now the pet and favourite animal of Queen Rania of Jordan.

She had received offers from both Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman and Jared Kushner to sell him but she had turned both men down flat.

And as in another place, billionaire George Soros was drowning his sorrows in champagne over the possible imminent collapse of the Brussels led European Union, the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill was proposing a toast to Sherrielock Holmes on her 165th Birthday.

And the ghost of Orson Welles took an old black and white picture of Sherrielock Holmes with an old Polaroid Model 95 Land camera invented by Edwin Land in 1948:

Sherrielock Holmes on her 165th Birthday- Not looking a day over 25.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday January 6th
2018
Feast of Epiphany

Permalink 12 Comments

Haiku About Irene Adler

September 22, 2018 at 5:28 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Poetry) (, , , , , , , )

A great stage actress
stole Bohemian king’s heart
and then Sherlock Holmes’

Permalink 3 Comments

Haiku About Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street

September 22, 2018 at 5:12 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Comfortable rooms
filled with smoke from a curved pipe
hides truly great mind

Permalink Leave a Comment

Sherlock Holmes and Jack The Ripper: A Haiku

August 28, 2018 at 10:37 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, History, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , )

Sherlock Holmes and Jack The Ripper: A Haiku

Holmes had Jack in lab
electrocuted him because
The courts would acquit

When you’re as important in society as Jack was, the Old Bailey would never convict.

So Sherlock Holmes took matters in his own hand.

Years later, Nikola Tesla would re-enact Holmes’ test for his friend Mark Twain.
But without using a living subject like the great British detective did.

Permalink 12 Comments

The Hall of The Baskervilles: A Poem

July 28, 2018 at 9:44 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The Hall of The Baskervilles: A Poem

The hall of the Baskervilles stands empty now
Only living creature seen is a neighbour’s stray cow
It’s been over a century since Sherlock Holmes cracked the case
of this spectral hound who lacked amazing grace
Sir Henry Baskerville has taken Mrs. Stapleton for his bride
as Holmes and Watson left the moor in a carriage ride
Sir Henry and his wife only had one son
An only child- Simon full of spark and fun

During the Great War, Simon Baskerville served as a spy
He arranged the fall of Zeppelins from the sky
So great and masterful a spy was he
pissing off the High Command of Germany
Kaiser Wilhelm II personally ordered his death
“This last Baskerville must soon be devoid of breath”
And so the order went out to German Intelligence Agent Count von Klamp
A man who dated a sexy Valkyrie vamp
He sent the vamp to England fair
This vampiress with Aryan blonde hair
She seduced Simon on a dark and stormy night
The kind that gives Bulwer-Lytton’s prose a fright
And Simon had from his body every ounce of his manly blood drained
While outside the thunder roared as storm clouds rained

Simon was knighted posthumously
by George V in full ceremony
Count von Klamp attended the funeral knighting in disguise
while the Valkyrie wore dark glasses over her eyes

Today Baskerville Hall stands deserted and desolate
Preservation efforts made quite the mess of it
On some nights locals say the demonic hound can still be seen
Devil’s hound instead of God’s Lamb in Devon’s pastures green

And in the empty Baskerville Hall
Dashwood Forrest walked examining the wall
He was looking for a portrait painting of Sir Simon
He had a buyer a millionaire Steak Kidney 🥧 pie man

He came to the place on the wall it was supposed to be
And there stood Allatallahbel in all her vampiress glory

Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal standing in front of an empty portrait picture frame in Baskerville Hall

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday July 28th
2018.

Permalink 26 Comments

Next page »