The world the flesh and the devil

Tuesday afternoon. No rain. No rain in a long while. One week long brutal cold front, but no rain. Drout. Sunny California a little too sunny. Bad vampire weather, if you believe in the daylight shadow vampires. 

I don't. I believe in old worlds. Old ones. Met one, in Vienna. Not a Television want to be. The real deal. I was there last year. End of the gig. All night coffee shop. Weird dude. Black clothes, almost like a shadow. Kind of could only see him from the corner of my eye. Straight on, he was blurred, there and not. Wore a hood. Not a sweat shirt hoodie. Not a hip dude. Not a pretender. Real. 

Why did he talk to me? No telling. Right moment, wrong moment. Only fifteen minutes with him. But blood red eyes. Long incisors. White skin. Not pale, not light skinned. White. Under the hood. Just a glimpse. 

What he told me. Knew who I was from the book. Yeah. Thousand year old fan. Or something. Some thing. He spoke in a deep accent. Said it was russian. Old russian. Hard to understand. Mumbled. Kept his face down. 

Spoke quickly. Rapid fire. Like unburdening. A ten minute tell all for a million sins. 

Sunlight deadly. The stake and silver. Both enders for him. Had known a number of the undead. Over the years. They came and went. The god thing. Yes, he said. Yes. Evil and good. demons and living. 

Said he'd gotten caught one time. Thirteenth century. Spent time on a rack. Broke bones, ripped tendons. And he didn't die. None of the killing things. Broke him wrecked him. But they made one mistake. They threw him onto the blood soaked stone. Blood. Said it soaked into him. Osmosis. And the damned repair good. Quick. Only a minute. There were fourteen torturers and nobles there. Had caught him in his dirt home. Drug him in. Sent for the priest. But too slow. 

And he ripped through them. Now this part of the conversation he was animated. Favorite memory stuff. Lurid detail. Arms from sockets, heads torn off, and on and on. Lots of blood. And he broke down the six inch thick oak doors. Blew them off the hinges with one blow. 

Then he ran down. Good times he said. Long ago. Said he had an appointment with some vamp wanna be Algerian girl who loved him to suck on her. Ten years of it. 

And that was that. I glanced out the window at a passing trolley car and he was gone. Fast. Yeah. True story. 

Ok, this wasn't a blog. Just a memory. But still. Keep shining sun. good to be in the daylight. 

Dig it.