Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRANSFORMATION.
So there I was, minding my own business and
suddenly I found an interesting piece of paper on the pavement (we do not have
sidewalks in Europe). I would have ignored it, but it was wrapped on a stone
with a dried spaghetti string. Not something you find every day. I almost
squashed it, were it not for the stone, and it was lying beneath the wall of
the remand prison: you know the building in town with the iron bars at the
window.
Shall I ignore this message or not? Does someone want to send a message claiming a miscarriage of justice, perhaps an attempt to escape? Broke the spaghetti string, which had become quite hard and brittle and unwrapped the paper and decided to read. The ink was red (or was it blood) and the writing written in a hurried scrawling way, as if there was no time to spare.
“To the finder of this message.
Please call tel. No. 666 6666 immediately. The time is ready. I feel it in my bones. The full moon will rise tonight. My deeds have been misjudged; I can only do what I have to. Tell Nick I will be ready tonight at 11.55, five minutes before midnight. Self burning letter after a minute, drop at once.
Vlad”
So what should I do with this I thought? The problem was soon solved; the paper began to turn brown at the edges immediately. I dropped it as it was aflame, and my fingers were burning: a devious way of calling for help. I could not go to the police for assistance; I no longer had any proof. I decided to call the telephone number on the note. I had not exactly memorised it but somehow the number seemed to suit the message, remembering the film The Omen, one of my favourites, and they were always mentioning the No. 666.
My mobile telephone was ready and I dialled.
“Hello, is that Nick speaking.”
“Who gave you my number?”
“I found a note on the pavement from Vlad at the foot of the walls of the remand prison with instructions to call you. Seems he will be ready at 11.55 tonight.”
“Who are you?”
“Just a passer bye: by the way I nearly got burns from the letter when it burst into flames.”
“Still up to his tricks huh? Ok, meet me at the cemetery, this evening at eight. I will be standing next to the crematorium, the third gravestone on the left.”
And with that he hung up.
So what should I do? If I do not attend this meeting, Vlad and Nick will both be disappointed. I could take the local priest with me for protection, but I do not know the local priest. OK, two pieces of wood will do, bound together like al for protection and a clove of garlic, sounds like it might be
useful. More garlic would have been better, but I used it all on a loaf of
garlic bread I prepared to eat with the hamburger. Perhaps a gun with a silver
bullet, but I have no silver bullets or a gun.
I made my way to the cemetery with a strange feeling deep inside my stomach. Was I going to meet something from another world, or was it the hamburger I swallowed in a hurry before leaving home. It was not such a dark night, although there were threatening clouds breaking the light from the full moon. Full moon? Am I mad going to a cemetery meeting Nick on a full moon night.
I could see the outlines of the crematorium looming in the distance, throwing threatening shadows on the surroundings and then I saw him. A tall appararition, but he was wearing a cylinder hat. He was swathed in a black cloak.
“Are you Nick?” I asked looking into a pair of red rimmed eyes.
“Yes” he answered in a quivering voice. Then he sneezed. “You need not to be afraid, I have caught a dreadful cold waiting around on this cemetery, the reason for my inflamed eyes.”
“Of course” and we both departed for the remand prison. Nick seemed to be quite excited and I had to run to catch up with him, he was moving so fast, almost seemed to be floating on the air. He even lost his cylinder hat on the way, did I see two horns protruding from his head? No, my wild imagnination or a trick of the light probably.
Eventually we arrived. Nick looked upwards to a window and whistled through his teeth. It was quite a loud whistle, but he did have two large canine teeth which seem to grow quite long. An answering whistle came and a figure appeared behind the bars of the window.
“Jump” said Nick
Vlad answered (I suppose it was Vlad) “The bars are in the way and that guy with you is carry a garlic clove and a wooden cross. No way”
“Don’t be stupid Vlad. What are you a costume bearer at a Halloween party or the real thing. Turn into something, one of those bats and fly through the space between the bars. I will deal with the anti-vampire props.”
“Good idea Nick” and I saw how the figure of a man became a bird and flew through the bars.
“Drop them” Nick said and I did. No good arguing with someone with red eyes.
I am sure you would love to hear what happenedd afterwards. Problem was I fell asleep somehow with this Vlad person standing over me. Nick was keeping watch. When I awoke I found I had two new friends and two holes in my neck. Now I never take walks along the pavement during the day: only at night, and Vlad is always with me. Now and again we meet Nick at the cemetery. We always pay a visit to the local blood bank. Vlad says it is more hygienic. You never know where those necks have been.
Shall I ignore this message or not? Does someone want to send a message claiming a miscarriage of justice, perhaps an attempt to escape? Broke the spaghetti string, which had become quite hard and brittle and unwrapped the paper and decided to read. The ink was red (or was it blood) and the writing written in a hurried scrawling way, as if there was no time to spare.
“To the finder of this message.
Please call tel. No. 666 6666 immediately. The time is ready. I feel it in my bones. The full moon will rise tonight. My deeds have been misjudged; I can only do what I have to. Tell Nick I will be ready tonight at 11.55, five minutes before midnight. Self burning letter after a minute, drop at once.
Vlad”
So what should I do with this I thought? The problem was soon solved; the paper began to turn brown at the edges immediately. I dropped it as it was aflame, and my fingers were burning: a devious way of calling for help. I could not go to the police for assistance; I no longer had any proof. I decided to call the telephone number on the note. I had not exactly memorised it but somehow the number seemed to suit the message, remembering the film The Omen, one of my favourites, and they were always mentioning the No. 666.
My mobile telephone was ready and I dialled.
“Hello, is that Nick speaking.”
“Who gave you my number?”
“I found a note on the pavement from Vlad at the foot of the walls of the remand prison with instructions to call you. Seems he will be ready at 11.55 tonight.”
“Who are you?”
“Just a passer bye: by the way I nearly got burns from the letter when it burst into flames.”
“Still up to his tricks huh? Ok, meet me at the cemetery, this evening at eight. I will be standing next to the crematorium, the third gravestone on the left.”
And with that he hung up.
So what should I do? If I do not attend this meeting, Vlad and Nick will both be disappointed. I could take the local priest with me for protection, but I do not know the local priest. OK, two pieces of wood will do, bound together like a
I made my way to the cemetery with a strange feeling deep inside my stomach. Was I going to meet something from another world, or was it the hamburger I swallowed in a hurry before leaving home. It was not such a dark night, although there were threatening clouds breaking the light from the full moon. Full moon? Am I mad going to a cemetery meeting Nick on a full moon night.
I could see the outlines of the crematorium looming in the distance, throwing threatening shadows on the surroundings and then I saw him. A tall appararition, but he was wearing a cylinder hat. He was swathed in a black cloak.
“Are you Nick?” I asked looking into a pair of red rimmed eyes.
“Yes” he answered in a quivering voice. Then he sneezed. “You need not to be afraid, I have caught a dreadful cold waiting around on this cemetery, the reason for my inflamed eyes.”
“Of course” and we both departed for the remand prison. Nick seemed to be quite excited and I had to run to catch up with him, he was moving so fast, almost seemed to be floating on the air. He even lost his cylinder hat on the way, did I see two horns protruding from his head? No, my wild imagnination or a trick of the light probably.
Eventually we arrived. Nick looked upwards to a window and whistled through his teeth. It was quite a loud whistle, but he did have two large canine teeth which seem to grow quite long. An answering whistle came and a figure appeared behind the bars of the window.
“Jump” said Nick
Vlad answered (I suppose it was Vlad) “The bars are in the way and that guy with you is carry a garlic clove and a wooden cross. No way”
“Don’t be stupid Vlad. What are you a costume bearer at a Halloween party or the real thing. Turn into something, one of those bats and fly through the space between the bars. I will deal with the anti-vampire props.”
“Good idea Nick” and I saw how the figure of a man became a bird and flew through the bars.
“Drop them” Nick said and I did. No good arguing with someone with red eyes.
I am sure you would love to hear what happenedd afterwards. Problem was I fell asleep somehow with this Vlad person standing over me. Nick was keeping watch. When I awoke I found I had two new friends and two holes in my neck. Now I never take walks along the pavement during the day: only at night, and Vlad is always with me. Now and again we meet Nick at the cemetery. We always pay a visit to the local blood bank. Vlad says it is more hygienic. You never know where those necks have been.
Nicely written, Pat. With 'Nick' and 'Vlad' appearing, it's almost like 'Superheros Of The Undead'. LOL.
ReplyDelete