Decided I would leave excerpts from some of the "plays" ive written in ,this is the first of many and I hope whomever reads them enjoys ....
From the Parlor PlayAlone, again, in the dank of the cellar, outwardly she was smiling and only slightly amused at his anger. Inwardly she had never been so lost, she knew that this time, he was telling the truth, she did murder her fondest friend, whether anyone would allow her to believe it was not the point, she knew in those moments, it was the knowledge, the guilt that wrapped her in its blanket, like a lead weight that was pushing down on the last remaining glimmer of hope that was her soul.
She bent and picked the quill up off the floor, she wasn’t sure she had blood enough left to use the damned thing, but she knew where it was she had to go and so she reached for another bottle, this time carefully peeling off the ecru and blood stained label, then uncorking the bottle and scribbling a nonsensical message in rich burgundy and flowing script “North is the gateway, East is salvation ….32 00, 90 00 ….G”
A Crash from above and she was at once, and again standing there framed by the great doorway to their room, Damson on the floor in pieces, Eisheth a trembling mess in the corner. Before she knows what she is doing her head is shaking in consternation, a deep sigh like sound emanating from breathless lips, she slowly moves to Eisheth and kneeling down , gently placing the slip of wine label into her palm ,closing her hand around with slow nod ,her eyes locked on the shivering succubus , an odd sort of softness as if to say “no harm” twinkles in her eyes .the last words heard from her mouth before she disappears hard and cold , not unlike the great stone ramparts that hold their odd little family together.” Try not to kill each other while I’m gone “
She slinks silently into Lucie’s room, and wonders if ending her natural life was perhaps a mistake …She bends and kisses the fiery redheads cheek, so soft …sweet …her Peach. Gently lifting the duvet to the younglings chin , amazed at how innocent and childlike she seems….She leaves and closes the door behind her , the only evidence of herself she leaves behind , a lilac cutting in full bloom laying on her pillow .
The five hours until sunrise as she turns to take one last look at her home, seems like an eternity …the trek ahead of her daunting and deadly , a feat in and of itself for any other mortal , but this time she muses , like every other time , she will do it the old fashioned way. The pilgrimage of the damned, she muses as she rises high in the air ….
Lhamo Thondrup sat quietly in the Upper Chamber , pen to paper at a small writing desk, he had written many books and now was working on a book of musings .small in stature ,he seemed to the unknowing eye a quiet but funny little man , full of kind regard and genuine humor , his smile was infectious , his eyes sparkled with mischief and wonder , his curiosity had always gotten the best of him and so when he sensed her presence , he was not scared .No. He was in fact, delighted that she had at last come to visit. His Holiness hadn’t seen her in what seemed like 30 years. In fact it had been 30 years since she last visited, shortly after the incident in New York with Veronica’s Veil. She had come to him apologizing for her long absence, seeking advice and wisdom and she left the Drepung Monestary immediately after in search of her son but instead found a portal into the madness that was Elisium.
And so on this night he knew, in fact, what she was seeking, and more than happy to give it, after all, it wasn’t every evening Kyabgon held an audience with a Vampire.
His voice soft and amused broke the silence as his lips curled up in smile, laying his pen down and turning without a thought to his safety and feeling no fear.
“…….It is nice to see you again Gabrielle, please, come and sit, you will tell me of your adventures and I will make us a cup of Darjeeling. “
He almost giggles until the stark figure, steps from the shadows, he is all once concerned and horrified, he’s seen her this way before .He did not enjoy seeing his old friend this way, if that was what she was, it amused him again, as it did every time, he a holy man, and she a vampire…but she wasn’t truly evil, was she? She was in fact an oxymoron, ferociously devout in her faith, always seeking a path to redemption. But now, something terrible was going on and he worried for her, and her salvation. But first they had to get formalities out of the way.
Her hands rise to her chin in the traditional anjali greeting; his eyes and the look in them betray his soft smile as he brings his clasped hands to his chin. A slight bow of their heads and he is leading her to a seat.
She watches him silently as he pours two cups of tea in nondescript cups, it is thankfully hot and she smiles her thank you as her cold feeble hands grasp the brew, leaching the warmth into her frozen fingertips with a muffled sigh of relief. She brings the heady brew to her nose and breathes in the rich scent of honey and spice and though she never drinks her tea she is appreciative of his thoughtfulness, he always remembers her fondness for the scents of honey and ginger.
His bright eyes smile at her through the thin wire rims of his glasses; she knows he will wait as long as it takes for her to speak. He knows also she may never speak .Her voice ragged and road weary from the climb and cold , echoes softly in the Upper Chamber , the somber tone almost musical as she begins her tale ,leaving out those things he doesn’t need to know and trying in desperation to convey the depths of her despair , but the fact remained , she wasn’t quite sure , what to feel ,anymore and so she kept speaking till she could speak no more .
He gave her a nod, stood up almost weightlessly, his gold and orange robes shifting and swaying, then he led her to a secret room, where she could sleep the day away and return again to him, in hopes that after a day of prayer and quiet contemplation he might in fact have some answers or the very least a glimmer of hope, or wisdom to impart before she made the journey home again
His days were spent in meditation and thoughtful contemplation, He enjoyed writing , a Nobel Laureate, “Yishin Norbu” had written several books and since the announcing of his semi-retirement the previous winter he had been doing a lot more of it. His thoughts wandered to the old soul sleeping behind the secret door, he was tickled, and almost literally that she had sought him out once again. He was sure that it was divine intervention the first cold night she had come to visit him, and not as she had explained feebly, “simple curiosity”. But he recognized her the moment she made her presence known, he had been excited to see her and to her complete surprise, clapped with glee in spite of himself, a rare and special occasion for him .For her as well it seemed, because after formally greeting the 15 year old boy, she quickly swept him up in bone crushing hug. He soon remembered why it was His former incarnation adored her so much. He found himself adoring her more. It was of no consequence to him that she was a killer , it should have been , had the world at large , nay his brethren come to know of his secret friend , he was sure there would be consequences, of what sort he was never sure, but he knew “they” would not be as they said in the western world “happy campers” .He giggled silently inside of himself, the only evidence of such a thing, the trademark smile and sparkling eyes, the lines in his face lifting in a knowing , gentle smile always sincere and full of “light”. And though she who slept in secrecy in the Upper Chamber was a vampire, yes a killer. It was not exactly her fault. Did she not begin as a human? She had .Did she not do her utmost to try and redeem herself? Most often he agreed she did. It didn’t matter now, though. She was in trouble and she had come in search of not only his wisdom but to rekindle their friendship. Not that that candle would ever lose its flame. He was sure that when it was his time to go onto the next plain of existence, she would wait for him, and again make herself known, offer her formal greeting and a hug that would see the next Dalai Lama in the infirmary getting his torso wrapped to ease the pain of a broken rib , or three….
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Gabrielle awoke in a fit of withdrawals, she growled coldly to herself as she realized this would be the first whole evening in months she hadn’t taken a drink … worse still and what frightened her most was that she was hungry. She was in a truly holy place, were it a church or synagogue she wouldn’t have a problem finding food, not that those places were not holy , but it was never hard to find a pedophile or two in the vicinity. Like say the rectory. She wouldn’t ever dare go stalking for a morsel here. It was not often Gabrielle truly respected anyone outside her small circle of …Family.
“You’re never going to hear of the end of it Gabrielle…Unless they’ve set fire to the place…”
So she would suffer through the hunger pains, not to mention the guilt of leaving them all to their own devices, her family .She decided that this was more important for now, her piece of mind of late hanging by a very thin thread. The visit by Lucifer and his anger, while amusing, left a bad taste in her mouth. Lhamo would help her, she knew he would and so she did what she knew best, she reached for a small compact in her pocket, clicked the ivory case open and made herself presentable for his Holiness. Not that he cared, but she most defiantly did. It was, she assumed that very same defiance that always sealed her fate. She let out a flustered sigh and tried in vain not to think. Her most cherished and secret friend would get there soon, with that lovely sweet and comforting smile. Normally she would open the secret door, wander around stealthily, stand in awe of forgotten relics and religious items, but she was too tired to be defiant….
He was smiling as he took in the majesty of the sunset as it swept over the peaks of Mount Gephel .The awe such a thing inspired in him every time he saw it was also part of his charm, and whether he knew it or not he was quite the charmer. As the sun set and the Drepung Monastery was sunk into darkness he made his way back to the secret door and opened it , his mouth on the cusp of a giggle ,his eyes wide and laughing as she greeted him palms together , eyes cast down. He nodded to her and offered his hand.
“Come with me now Gabrielle, we will speak more of your troubles.”
She took the offered hand and followed the little holy man to his private quarters. Once inside the sparse room he watched her flitting to the window casting her gaze to the sky as he prepared the tea and sat waiting patiently until she was ready to face him, and accept whatever wisdom he had to give , whether she liked it or not……..
An hour after dusk and Gabrielle was still struggling. She knew Lhamo had much to say, in what little words he usually spoke to her but she wasn’t sure herself if she would like what he had to say. Inevitably though, even if their points of view didn’t mesh, and they often didn’t, she held his advice in the highest esteem. It took them both great effort to remain friends and the fact that he welcomed her with open and non judgmental arms was the most unexpected and cherished gift she had ever received since she was forever changed on that fateful night so many hundreds of years ago.
A flash of Damson in pieces on the floor , Eisheth trembling in the corner and her angelic daughter Lucie , so peaceful as she slumbered ,compelled her to move away from the small window and sit across from the tiny holy man she so quietly endeared.
“Kyabgon, what are your thoughts? What must I do? Is there anything I can do?”
His gentle smile penetrated her as it always did; it was more than a comfort to her, also a relief. His voice soft but eminent tickled her in a most unfathomable way, he was like a favored son and a god to her. She felt childlike and pure in his presence. Not one other soul in the entire universe could make her feel as genuinely content as he did. His friendship was the closest to heaven she felt she would ever attain.
“My Lion hearted friend, anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.”
His eyes sparkled with the trademark mischief she had grown to love as he rose to slowly pour a second cup of tea paying full attention to the small task as if it were the most important, and last thing he would ever do.
“One of his students asked Buddha, "Are you the messiah?"
"No", answered Buddha.
"Then are you a healer?"
"No", Buddha replied.
"Then are you a teacher?" the student persisted.
"No, I am not a teacher."
"Then what are you?" asked the student, exasperated.
"I am awake", Buddha replied.”
Lhamo returned to the small table and seated himself across from the Vampiress, literally his oldest friend. His smile never wavering.
“Gabrielle, you are alive. You exist. By all that is heavenly and scientific you should not exist and here you are.
He paused as if to think for a moment; this was merely his way as he took a small breath and a sip of fragrant Darjeeling.
“Gabrielle. Wake yourself.”
She looked deeply into his face, the slant of his almond shaped eyes as the laugh lines curled up ever so slightly. He was right. Her vigilance had faltered. Things,important things like her family and the sanctity of her home and life had gone astray. Now as if he had been reading her thoughts he replied:
“To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life; foolish people are idle, wise people are diligent.”
She nodded and as she stood she offered her parting greeting, she promised herself she would not take so long in coming to visit him again, silently admonishing herself for not being a better friend to him.
He rose and greeted her back, braced himself and then smiled as she took him in her arms and hugged him hard. The tone in his voice sent a chill up her spine.
“Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment…I will be here in one form or another when you return “
And just like that, into the night she was gone, on her way home, and he was puttering down to the infirmary. The Dalai Lama inexplicably had cracked another rib.
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She stood in the garden looking up with a new sense of purpose. She sat on the bench and quietly prepared herself for the questions she assumed would fly fast and furious at her the moment she opened the great doors and stepped inside. For now, she would spend a short while admiring the night blooming jasmine.
