Old Soul

In my Thursday (sometimes not Thursday) advice column “Ask Juliette” I get a lot of questions about where Vampires come from. I also get a lot of people asking how they can become a Vampire (fat chance I’ll share that with any stranger on the Internet.)

So…

Where do we come from?

Why are we here?

My answers are easy.

  1. California.
  2. And because I’m having too much fun.

But seriously, I hear a lot of ruckus about where Vampires come from. Are we Demons, or some off shoot of Fallen Angels, or something more sinister? Is our condition from some virus or weird spores, or God knows what kind of blood bourne poison? Pashaw. Don’t be ridiculous or over dramatic. None of that is true.

I remember a long time ago when someone asked Tellias, who is over 2,000 years old, where we come from, and he said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t around back then. Plus I was a foundling. Nobody knows who my parents were, or if I as born this way. Does it matter? I know who I am.”

We can become tangled in ambiguous lore, or we can live now with the history and traditions we know. We should also live with facts that we know are true. Those who go back as far as Tellias have fragmented stories, or whispered (and sometimes shouted) stories of small groups of Vampires who might know the answers, or parts of the answers.  But it all comes down to two parts lore, three part science, and thirty seven parts something else. Werewolves are working on the science of it all (and the something else.) That is why Werewolves, Selkies, and Vampires are the way they are. They’re working more on shape changing than other things but still…

I asked Eleora who is as old beyond measure. Nobody knows exactly how old she is – maybe 2,500 years or so. Maybe older. She and Tellias live in their Queen Ann Victorian by the river, among the orchards. They’ve been together since he went to Britain with the Romans and found her on the edge of a cliff singing a song of night out to the cold dark sea. They were both alone, neither of them lost, and both Vampires. It was love at first sight. They both look all of nineteen or twenty years old but they are ancient. Extremely ancient.

So on a hot summer day, while we sat inside Eleora’s dark parlor, away from the heat, with tall crystal glasses of unsweetened iced tea, with sprigs of fresh mint from her yard, I asked her, “where do you come from Eleora? Why do you think Vampires are here?”

Eleora sat on the settee, wearing a faded tropical flowered sundress, her dark curls piled on her head with a red bow, and cheap purple flip flops (we used to call them Zories) on her feet.

She looked like she was thinking about what I’d said, then she took a sip of her tea. “Juliette dear, would  you like some brandy in your tea? Maybe some blood? I have some Sheriff’s blood. It’s pretty good with tea.”

“It is good,” said Tellias. “It has a kick. All that extra testosterone mixed with fear. Good stuff. I’ll go get it.” He left, and nodded to Eleora to answer my questions.

“When I was a teeny tiny child, a long long long time ago, I was small. Smaller than most children, even way back then. I’m not so small anymore. I’m 5 feet and four inches tall now. The same as you. You’re still that tall aren’t you?”

“Yes, dear, I am still that tall. Eleora were you a Vampire when you were small, or did you become a Vampire later?”

She smiled with a bit of fang. “I’ve never talked of this. I don’t remember…” Then she laughed. “I don’t remember much of anything. My head is just a mess of old papers, rocks, and locked travel trunks. But…let me see. I was always different from the others. I could see through the night and darkness. I could understand the calls of the wolves. I could scare the witches who lived in the caves near by with a giggle. I would hear the elders say I lived in a dream. I didn’t care. I was happy. My parents loved me. I loved them, because they were sort of different too. Not quiet like me, but serious and strong.”

Then one day I fell asleep in a field of flowers, listening to the waves of the ocean and the songs of the Selkies below on the beach. In the morning I returned home and home was gone. It was just like last summer when all of those poor folks, up by that lake, north of here, you know, when the fire came through and they lost everything. It broke my heart to think of them. Where did Tellias go?”

“I’m right here my love,” he said doorway where he had been quietly listening.

“Other children were there. And nobody had touched the albino. She was simple. Not like an old person, but like someone who hasn’t got her wits all together. She never spoke and never listened. Now she went about and gathered up the six children who were left. I found my parent’s heads and hands stuck in a tree. And then I started to scream until the sun came up the next morning. It was awful. Simply awful. Moon Girl, that is what we called the albino, dug holes and motioned to the children to help her fill them with flowers and body parts. She motioned for us to sing, while she also sang with her silent voice and let her tears fall. I remember wondering if she’d ever wipe her nose. Odd how children are like that. It is like when you were small Juliette and you’d always be watching people and wondering about them. You didn’t like grown ups when you were small. They disgusted you for the most part, especially when they’d get close and try to get you to talk to them. Remember?”

I remembered. “What happened next Eleora? What happened with Moon Girl and the other children.”

“Old Soul came through and took us to a safe place. He didn’t look old, but when he took us to the safe place he was as old as I am now.”

Old Soul. That was a new one to me. “Old Soul? Was he a Vampire?”

“Was and still is. He came with a great horse, and several more of his kind. They put us on their horses and took us away to where they lived in a great stone castle sort of house. He was an amazing person. He discovered that Moon Girl’s tongue had been cut out, and someone had poked sharp sticks into her ears when she was a tiny child. He taught her how to write and how to read. He taught all of us how to read and write. He was like an early saint tho brought the word of God unto the masses, but he brought all words to us, from cultures we couldn’t even imagine. He told us how wide the word was, and of many different kinds of people who lived all over. He also told us of the Vampires who lived in peace and protected those in need of help. Old Soul told us about how he and his people drank the blood of men, and in turn protected those men and kept them safe from demons and bad spirits. When I was older,  I made the choice to become a Vampire in order to protect those I loved. I love your nail color Juliette. It looks very pretty. You should stick with the light pinks.”

“Where did Old Soul come from?” I asked.

“Here and there.”

“Was he one of the first Vampires?”

“No, that would be silly. Nobody is that old.”

“Where did the first Vampires come from?”

“Would you like more tea? I think I’ll have more. I should give Old Soul a call. I haven’t seen him in, maybe… a long time.”

“He stopped by last Christmas time. Remember Eleora, he wore a red cashmere sweater that almost melted when you touched it,” said Tellias.

“Oh of course. And he is still so handsome,” said Eleora.

“Extremely handsome,” said Tellias. “He always was.”

“Who is he?” Again I asked.

“Just a friend,” said Eleora.

“A friend,” said Tellias.

“A good friend. That is why we are here,” said Eleora.

“Why are we here?” I asked.

Eleora took my hand in hers. “Because it is too hot to go outside.”

We chatted for the rest of the day about my kids, Vampires we know, and whatever popped into Eleora’s head. There are answers to every question. There are all kinds of answers to every question.

For some of us there is someone like Old Soul who mysteriously comes into our lives. For most of us it isn’t so mysterious. We make connections, we reach out, we discover each other. As my children take those steps into adulthood they’ve started to realize how important those connections can be. We take our history into the future and share – not just the stories but the love as well.

I know, I’m rambling just like Eleora. But that’s ok.

Have a good weekend everyone.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes – but please no yoga pants

Odds and Ends – Musings on my state of mind.

This morning as I was leaving the self-serve dog wash with a clean old dog and a fifteen pound bag of dog food under my arm I saw road rage. Yes, right there in the Trader Joe’s parking lot between the organic bakery and the dog wash.

Fresh from getting her Zen and Zang aligned with the universe at her Friday morning yoga class, a woman in an expensive SUV started screaming “BITCH you can’t have my spot.” She was screaming at another woman who was also in an SUV (woman number two was not wearing yoga pants.) It was one of those WTF moments for me. After helping my old dog with the bad leg into my car I could only hope that nobody would scream at me. If they did there might be hell to pay later, much later, but maybe not. It just isn’t worth my time. Karma will get the screamer much more effectively than any Vampire could.

As a rule, aside from swimwear and underwear I never wear anything with an elastic waist band. I do not have road rage. Yes, of course I swear in the my car and curse enough to make the Devil himself blush – I’m a mom. All mom’s swear in the car, just as any child. BUT I do not have road rage.

I’ve been out and about during the day a lot more lately. Things are different in the light of day. At night people are predictable. They are usually tired or drunk or happy to be where they are. During the day the world if full of women who are full of rage. Raging women with well manicured hands and yoga pants. There are also the moms with a baby in one hand and a dog pulling the other with a leash. Yes, it looks good on paper, but in reality the dog and the baby rarely want to go in the right direction. The three I saw today were so cute. I remembered those days except I had two exceptionally large hairy girl dogs (90 and 125 lbs) and babies in tow. Auto pilot time!

When my children were small I always knew a lot of the well-kept raging women with their aligned Zen were blissfully ignorant of their husband’s girlfriends or of their market value going down in the workplace. I was never Zenfully aligned in any way shape or form. The universe has never been an aligned or straight forward place for me. That makes things difficult at times but you know, it just the way things are.

Disclaimer: Not everyone who does yoga is one of those women so don’t get all pissed off.

Then I saw two guys with a lot of hair and backpacks. I don’t know if they were homeless or just traveling through. At the light a Lumbersexual (you know, the long hipster beard, boots and red plaid jacket or shirt) talked to the hairy guys. It was cool.

I was the old guy with the purple mohawk who rides his bicycle along the streets. I saw the tiny kindergarteners in their cute sun hats all holding on to a rope and walking to the park with their teachers. With a rope no kids can complain of holding hands with blisters or a hand of someone they don’t like or being paired up with a hand squeezer. Ropes rock when it comes to controlling children. And it is sooooooo cute.

As I’m driving home with the now clean dog, I realized that now I smell like dirty dog. When you wash a dog it is just a matter of you transferring the vile smells to your own body. I turned on my music because the dog can’t use the car stereo system like the rest of my family. Nobody was there to change it. I played my own soundtrack for my own movie.

I keep adding songs and pushing some off of the playlist. Some are on the list forever while others only last a week or two. And I am still pissed off at Apple their asshattery when they slapped the U2 album on my iPhone. More mom swearing. But back to my yen and yang…

We all have to find our own soundtracks. We all have to find what route we want to take on any given day. Even when we’re forced to take another road to another place, even if that place is unknown, it isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, it is usually a good thing.

Then there are those rings that are old and new like my fifteen year old and her sixteen year old partner skating to “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” In two hours he’ll be listening to Metallica and she’ll be listening to Night Riots but for now, they dance like Fred and Ginger on eight wheels. Today it is International (nor organ music like American dance, just orchestral.) They’re really beautiful out there on the floor.

Other things run through my mind like calls from my brothers about getting out blood stains, dealing with females, and dealing with the ends and outs of living in world that is just a little bit different. Not bad, not wrong, not strange to us, just different.

I thought about the time, a long time ago, when my brother Val and I were kids. We were walking along the edge of the river and found a giant dead sturgeon on the beach. We swore it was at least twenty feet long. Looking back I think it was about six feet long – still a large beast. It was just one of those random thoughts that I’ll call him about tonight or maybe tomorrow. I thought about a lot of things today with my only company being the dog.

Rummaging through the dusty files in my brain I pulled out cracked faded folders on old lovers, images of places I can’t remember and things I remember as if it had happened this morning. Closing my mind I could feel the warm summer breeze on my bare skin as I walked along the beach, hoping it would stay warm, if only for another few hours.

Next I sent Garrett (who is off at college) about a dozen photos of the dogs and cats playing in the tall winter grass. I also sent him pathetic photos of the dog being washed. Fun stuff. A lot of xoxoxoxo sort of stuff followed and came back. He sent selfies and some included friends. I thought again of the mom with the tiny baby and the dog. She has no idea how much fun she will have or how much love.

So reach into your brain, take out your files and throw them into the air, with all of the brittle paper that might fly into bits along with dust and old love letters and bits of this and that. Holy crap, what a mess that would make.

I’m looking forward to a calm evening for tomorrow… who knows what it will bring but it is always something.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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Casa de los espíritus – House of the spirits

They called the farmhouse casa de los espiritus, the ones who picked the fruit and helped with the orchards. House of the spirits.

The original house is gone, replaced in 1884 with a lavish 5,400 square foot Queen Anne style Victorian. The spirits are still there in the form of Tellias and Eleora the very ones who had the home built. Yes, they’re still there because they are Vampires.

Over the years the house has seen friends come and go but the owners stay the same, never aging a day. During the day the house is still but at night the spirits come to life with both darkness and in light. One can go by the darkened old house and hear laughing coming from within. Memories fade except of the faces of youth that never grows old.

On rare occasions we might see ghosts in the orchards or down by the river banks, but they’re never in the house.

Gone are the days of lavish parties but those days might come again.

I kicked back on the veranda with my brother Val recently one moonless night.

“So I guess we’re the spirits,” he said.

“Pretty much,” I replied. Nothing more needed to be said. It was one of those slow nights where we didn’t feel like going out. We’d both had lunch dates so there wasn’t any urgency to go out.

We didn’t play remember when that night. You know, the old game where you sit with an old friend or sibling and remember the most extreme situations you’ve ever been in. Remember when you found the crocodile under your bed, remember when that crazy rogue Vampire tried to tear your head off, remember when you fell off the bridge, remember when the hounds chased us across the field, remember when we were trapped in a crypt, trapped in a burning barn, trapped in a light house, trapped in a sinking ship, trapped with a politician in a rowboat in the middle of a swamp in Louisiana, hidden in a closet, running down the beach with a giant torch, hidden in a church, trapped in a relationship? It could go on forever. But that night we didn’t play that game. OK we did but later. We always play that game.

Bob, the neighbor stopped by. We didn’t play remember when with him either. Bob is 62 and dealing with his 85 year old mother (who has ideas of her own on how Bob should live his life.) I suddenly thought how odd it must be for Bob to be here speaking with a couple of Vampires. He has known us all his life. His family has known us (our family and our kind) since the 1850’s.

Casa de los espíritus applies more to him than to us. He 40 years ago he fell in love with a woman who never aged. Of course her heart belongs to another forever, but he never give up hope. For him there is that ghost of a chance… always the chance, or so I speculate.

The spirits haunt those with the least time. They haunt those who think the most of what could have been.

For those of us who think of what can be the spirits are quiet.

Earlier we heard someone playing the old wind up gramophone Radio Franks Old Maid’s Ball. Now they were all in dancing to Enrique Iglesias singing Bailando.

Val and I laughed and danced along. Why not. Everyone needs to dance, even Vampires in the dark of the night. Taking Bob by the hands we all went inside to join the party.

Tonight the spirit was that of friendship and fun. No haunting scary monsters. That is for another post, I promise.

Halloween is coming soon…and we’re all about TEENS and VAMPIRES here.

 

Anyway, have a good weekend everyone. As usual, and a lot more lately, I’m just rambling. Musing. It is called musing as in Musings of a Modern Vampire Mom. OK I’m done.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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School starts Thursday and I’ve lost my train of thought…and my car keys.

School starts Thursday.

Last year started out as a trip to Bedlam asylum, complete with Boris Karloff. It ended out being a pretty good year with a lot of smiles and friendships that will last forever. Best of all the kids LEARNED stuff.

I wrote a 1,500 word rehash on all the weirdness of last school year. It turned into a lecture on teaching children early on and about reputation and the company they keep. All lessons based on experience and grounded common sense. See what I mean, it sounds like a lecture. Needless to say I did not post THAT tonight. You’ve been spared.

We didn’t think of the future much when we were kids. I didn’t. Maybe the boys did. I knew the future would be full of bright dreams and lace dresses and that it would all fall together as soon as I arrived in Paris with my paints. That was just one dream. I’d be educated but with little use for my knowledge, at least not at first. Save that thought. Everything you learn will be useful one day. Your brain is like a toolbox. You never know what tool you’ll need, but when you need that weird obscure tool you’ll be glad you have it.

Anyway… see, this post is leading in the same direction. Absolutely nowhere. Or somewhere, like inside of a shoebox or the back of a coat closet (no trap door to another world either, just coats, umbrellas, old guitars, blueprints and sun hats.)

So, where was I?

Nowhere.

School starts Thursday.

It will be a good year.

Better than the year I turned 16 when one of my friends almost killed my future husband, but that is another post, another day, and another time.

Someone is asking about a misplaced backpack so I have to sign out.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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Just think - your teens could be listening to this crap.

Just think – your teens could be listening to this crap.

 

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