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Night Letters

Dear Patricia,

It has been thirty years since last we talked face to face. It is sad the nature of the seasons. Our personal needs tend to overwhelm our need for society. Even people such as we find that much company stressful and difficult. It's a painful fault and one that injures us before we recognize that we are painfully alone. What a strange life it is, indeed. We know what makes us well yet we deny those things as too difficult or deem we are too busy to make the time for their implementation.

So read this as a heart felt apology.

I ran into Gene a few months ago in New Orleans. The storm and flood caused a great deal of hardship and woe to so many. Finding a dry place to lie down and rest was near impossible. So it was that many made shelters in dry (semi-dry) attics. Some took flight and headed for less urban destinations. Gene made it to Memphis and ended up thriving. He had some concern for the religious under-current that permeates the region. Perhaps a little spirituality would chink his sophisticated veneer and do him good. I must say, I have spent many an evening with him being bored to distraction at his orations on existentialism. "From darkness to darkness". You have, no doubt, heard him spew that phrase like a slogan.

I wonder why so many struggle with what is our inherent nature. Why struggle with who we are? Why not just accept ourselves as whole and complete? Life is difficult enough without adding our intellectual drivel to the mix. ‘Tis enough just being.

I write because I am coming to New York next month and I wanted to know if you would extend your remarkable hospitality to me? I must tell you I am envious of your gifts but find myself refreshed when my thoughts turn toward you and all you do. You give this tired old soul respite and succor. I laugh at my inability to accept all that is new and how you embrace each new turn of the world with relish and zeal. The world seems to fly by me with its unanticipated changes. I am left without a clue, a wreck in its wake. You would be proud of me - I have acquired a computer. The esoteric working of the infernal contraption still somewhat eludes me. If you send me your e-mail I will endeavor to use the device to correspond with you.
Dearest regards,
Winston
***
Dear Winston,
I was so pleased to hear from you. I thought that you had passed away. I have asked about you but no one knew of your whereabouts. It was odd, for no matter what, you are a person of note and to have you just drop off the earth is disturbing. The last anyone made note of you was in Bosnia during the civil war. That is just like you; anytime a conflict arises - there would be you. I always wondered what drew you to such dangerous places. I find you brave and strong if not a little reckless. You are certainly consistent and have always told me that risk was the seasoning of life. I could not tolerate the uncertainty of bombs dropping and bullets flying. Even though I consider myself lucky that those dreadful things do not presence themselves in my life.

In any event- I am pleased that you resurfaced. In fact I am thrilled.

For myself I am doing incredibly well. The nightlife here teems with vitality and energy. You, of course, remember when I went to school to learn to paint. Being the hopeless clod that I am you would not be surprised by how much time it took for me to learn to be so barely competent. I was so sure I was horrible and devoid of any talent that I put down the brush for years. When I came here it revitalized the creative in me and I picked up the brush with renewed vigor. Surprise my dear - I am well received and in demand. In fact I can't paint fast enough. That presents a whole other problem. Is it art or just a picture shop? I don't know - but I will play for awhile and see where it goes. I remember your words 'All self aware beings have one mandate and that is to be relevant.' Do you remember that my dear mentor? It has been the foundation of my life.

I ran into Elizabeth and Verner and if you come next month they will be here too. Won't that be wonderful? Imagine the old group together again. It is sad that we drift apart. They so admire you. It was Verner that said that it would be a long time after you are gone that one such as you will walk the earth again. You can imagine how sad I was to believe that the earth had taken you for its own. You have a computer? I would like to e-mail you.

With all my affection,
Patricia

***
Dear Patricia,
Old habits do die hard. I still am not comfortable working or writing with a computer. Forgive me my old fashion ways. I still like the idea of couriers but that custom is long dead, as is my idea of civilized behavior. Imagine an old scoundrel like me caring about civility. Yet without it are we not just beasts? I have procured one of the fiendish devices and have a delightful and beautiful young man attempt to teach me its workings.

It will be fantastic to see Elizabeth and Verner again. Their mentor was my student. Did you know that? It is truly a small world. Brett Bunt was his name. He sought me out in Paris. He was a bright student and a beautiful man by any standard. His vanity was only to be tolerated because of his wit and insights. I must admit I think of him often. We all end up where we are by accident no matter how much we pride ourselves with the foolishness that we have some control of our destiny. Who knows what has us react to one another – what or why we respond? We just do and that is that. Putting a name to the reason –selfishness, vanity, pity, charity all are just constructs after the fact. Chaos is the art that life is. Any way, it was Paris and the spring of 1939. He was a priest that had noticed me giving my vast but dubious knowledge to a small group in a club I frequented. He thought he knew me and I allowed our conversation. Don't ask me why. No let’s see – charity! I hear your laughter and recognize that my arrogance would not normally have allowed anyone but me to speak. True, I do prefer monologue to dialogue and only my own monologue. We do, for no real reason, allow those few to intrude into our world and sometimes are enriched for it, as was true this time. He told me - or confessed to me that he had lost his faith and felt that I could help him find meaning again. My heavens, can you imagine the responsibility? And yes, my enormous ego compelled me to step up and I stepped up. Someone had to; the man was a mess. I believe he would take his own life and that would have been a waste. He was so persistent and depressed. What God could create such a man, turn from him, and leave him at my feet? But then God created me as well. I took him under my wing and explained the realities that most could not bear to hear. Instead of being horrified, my intent was to shock him back into life; he claimed to understand and soon thrived. I even took him out on one of my business calls. He was unfazed. Two hours before sunset he was converted. I stayed with him and held him while he suffered. I am always astonished that we survive the changes that are so necessary to our full development. I have to believe that we were designed for it as if we were caterpillars waiting to become butterflies. Any level of enlightenment is a terrible and violent ordeal. Once you see you cannot your eyes nor pretend you don't see. The door to what was is shut and the road ahead is fearful and strange. How horrible is life that such changes are required. Write soon.
Affectionate Regards,
Winston

***

Dear Winston,
Hurry I am vibrating with anticipation. I am embarrassed to ask but you have always taught me that one cannot get unless one asks. I still carry those old puritanical views on sex. So here it is. I trust you have not put aside your libido. I have been awhirl fantasizing about us being lovers again. In all my years you have done more for me in that way than any other man. I would understand if you did not look on me in that way and would be more than fine if you said it would not be so. There is of course no obligation and I will be content with the richness of my fantasies. I have heard that our kind loses interest after a time, so far, that is not the case with me. I still remember Lisbon. You were a vision and a romantic dashing hero. I would still hold that handsome face and lay kisses on you till you till you cannot breathe.

I am sorry to change the subject from one so wonderful to one so sad. Brett is gone. He was captured by a group of zealots in Russia. He had gone back to see the place of his birth. They netted him and burned him to ashes. His fade was powerful and we all felt it. I am surprised you did not mention it. What a magnificent creature he was. We will miss him.

Elizabeth and Werner are coming I will have a showing next month. It would be a privilege for you to critique my work and give me pointers. I must say I have always wondered why you choose music over art. Please be well and hurry to me.
With all my heart,
Patricia

***

Dear Patricia,
I have been of the blood for 500 years. I have learned 200 languages. I have taken over a hundred names and, dear girl, I am tired. Having said that I most certainly have a libido and your form is still that image that assists me in my private moments. I was hoping we could rekindle that old spark. I see that I truly must hurry before you change your mind. Something I have learned over the years is that a woman can be defined by her mental agility. Still, hold that delightful thought and I shall step up and clarify that naughty image in my head in preparation. Do not, however, be disappointed with me as it may take a sustained effort for me to come to full term. I beg your patience for I fear much practice will be required. In all seriousness it has been a long time for me and I can think of no one more desirable in assisting me in breaking that fast. I am honored.

How interesting that I did not feel his passing. I confess I was very despondent a few years back and went to ground for a rest. I believe it was shortly after last seeing you. Please don't take that in a negative way. Your energy has kept me going for many years. It was a personal crisis unrelated to you in any way. I was so depleted that it took a while to regain my vigor. I awoke naked and was as frail as a leaf. I took to the wind and found a couple on vacation in the woods, innocents and I took their blood. I took shape and in my sorrow I went through their things. It is our moral obligation to take only the monsters and those whose suffering is unbearable. We have a place in this world and must be true so we don't become monsters ourselves. But I did. I took their bodies and buried them by a waterfall. I even prayed over them. Gene would approve he always said we should give thanks to our prey for the gift of their blood. Is that not a peculiar thing for an existentialist to say? The poor man still finds comfort in such thoughts.

I was vindicated later to find out the vacationing couple where deviants who murdered truckers and sold their trucks and cargo. I didn't know it at the time. I had inadvertently done what it is our prerogative to do and it turned out well. We are predators and it is on us to cull the herd so that it can prosper. There are deviants on both sides and I have often been charged with the legal fading of our own kind when they become monsters.

I told you I have a computer. I looked up blood banks. I have taken to robbing them for my nourishment. I seem to have lost the taste for the hunt and it does sadden me. I have come to know that we are not immortal. It is but a myth. We live long enough to see to the health of the herd, six to ten generations. We are the shepherds and that is our ethic. I have only run into two creatures older than myself and they only a hundred or so years older. There is a myth that two live today that are six thousand years and are from pre-Noah biblical stock but I don't know it to be true. The older ones tire of life, go to ground and reduce to dust. Please don't be sad. I don't write this to create melancholy in you but more of a celebration of our lives. It is a natural thing. I will come to you in celebration. We will act like children and play and then in a short while I too will go to ground again and not again rise. The creator will judge me and I hope find me acceptable letting me in that place set aside in heaven for our kind. We had our place once in an ancient world and then we lost our way and turned ourselves into soulless monsters. Those who are lost in humankind and in our kind will only accept perdition as their reward. Patricia we are not monsters but natural creatures who have lost our way. The diseases that plague the world are the result of our inability to have the human race breed strong and magnificent as they are. We have lost the craft of husbandry and they have suffered to our shame. May God forgive us? If there is a hell then there is a paradise. I will be there next week.
All my love,
Winston

***

Dearest Winston,
I can't help but be sad but I promise to come from celebration. I cherish you and honor your life as a mentor to us all. We are better for knowing you. In truth if we are to find our way back then it is you, as our teacher, who had that happen. I promise your last days will be a miracle. For my part you will be tired but not from the wear of life but from the amount of love I will demand of you and I too have waited a long time so my reserves and capacity is enormous.

You forgot your own teachings. I have been told of the pre-Noah story but you told me that it was Lazarus that rekindled our kind. If that is so then are we not a natural creature? You are a progenitor of a new faith amongst us. Did you know you made that kind of difference? As you have said we need to come from the light not the dark. You Winston took us from the shadows into truth. The night is our time only because our herd sleeps at night not because we are deficient in some way. We are the shepherds and watch by night. What dangers greater than us did we protect them? Did those monsters die in the flood making us less important? Is that why we lost our way? If you leave this world try to come back as a spirit and kiss me on the cheek as I sleep.
Love.
Patricia

***

Dear Gene,
He is gone. I am sorry you could not be here. He so loved you. Our last days were incredible. We all had so much fun having him here. Tears run down my face just thinking about it. It was quite a time. I wrote down everything he said. He was magnificent- such power and passion. Gene he was content and happy. His fading was as peaceful as I have ever seen. There was no release of energy. I felt that he just changed -transformed -turned into that butterfly as he often said. We spent five years traveling the world. He spoke so much of you. He said you were the clearest minded of our kind and a gift to us. I agree. I was told to take these writings and make a book. He asked me to ask you to help in its creation. I trust you will take the challenge. We have all read the notes and have been changed. It is a revelation.

We put him to rest after he fasted for six months drying out. We took his frail husk to Virginia and buried him in an old wood. As you know he was a scout for the north during the civil war and believed so in the principles of democracy. He felt that all humans would best prosper under a government that cared about the well being of its people. He said it made our job easier and made a healthier happier herd. I don't know if you knew that it was he who instigated the French revolution and whispered in the sleeping ear of Jefferson and Washington. What was it he said-healthy herd makes healthy predators?
I hope you find a way to come and see us.
Love,
Patricia

End
www.klstoryteller.com


------
Why is doing what you love the hardest thing to do? Is it because failing what you thought defined you would be too devastating a thing from which to recover? If so, we stay where mere accident has left us.


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Comments

The following comments are for "Night Letters"
by jonpenny

"Griffin & Sabine" & JonPenny's "Night Letters"....
Have you ever read the old series of beautiful postcards and letter books series of "Griffin & Sabine"? Oh, I so loved their exchanges and that whole style of writing and originality to the books themselves, they were a piece of art beyond words, true mixed media to the core, right up my alley....this "Night Letters" of yours made me think of "The Griffin & Sabine" series, available on Amazon.com by the way, great holiday gift for Christmas and such...thanks for this, you brought me to thinking about this form of writing, and I LOVE it. Good job, and happy holidays to you filled with love and joy;-)

Peace and Blessings,
Lena

( Posted by: TheRealKarmaTseringLhamo [Member] On: December 3, 2008 )

Lena and night letter
I haven't but i will look it up. I too love this form but when I wrote it it seemed archaic. I even had a teen friend of my son ask me: 'I mean how is it 'like' set up. Old school huh? Like letters in the snail mail.' I responded that it was old school and Vampires are still cool. (Thus the computer reference)
This form will be lost - I can't imagine a book of interesting and compelling e-mails or blog postings. Having said that, rethinking my position, and taking into account your delightful and fully expresssed musings -
I would be interested in a book of your postings. Thank you for your kind words and my prayers for your family and your health concerns.

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: December 4, 2008 )





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