torsdag 19 april 2007

Talulah Jezebel: Mr. J.

There is a Baptist church i New Orleans and there are many doors within this church.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans.
There was a knock upon a door in New Orleans and it was answered.
"Jeremiah." The black man who opened the door for his visitor stated, like it really wasn't a surprise.
"Do come in. Have a seat" 
"Thank you, Father Hosaia." The younger looking man nodded to the priest, into whose office he now entered with swagging confidence. The black man, who boar some resemblance to Malcolm X for those who knew of the reference, held the door open for a second more and then closed it gently behind his guest. He crossed the floor, which was covered in outdated green carpeting, probably from the 1960:s, and got into the chair behind his desk. The office was quite well lit. He did not offer his guest a drink as Jeremiah sat down across from him. They sat in silence toghether for a while, Father Hosaias index fingers pressed toghether, building a pyramid with his hands.

"Father Hosaia" The young man started the conversation. "I understand that you have heard from Talulah"? Hosaia adjusted his heavy 1950:esque glasses upon his nose and sighed although he did not need to. "Yes." His face was blank and unreadable. "And as I understand this should be good news as her whereabouts were up for some debate? And that we even lacked confirmation on wheter she was alive or not?? The young man continued. Father Hosaia put one of his hands on the table and calmly drew a cirkle with his index finger, following it with his gaze. Like he was waiting for the other man to say something more. But the visitor did not.
"I recieved....a letter....yes."

The visitor lit up, all smiles now. "Ah, and she is well, I trust!?" He threw his hands up in some kind of mimic of a relieved gesture. The Father gave him a blank stare, with heavy eyes. "No...she is not. The letter was not from her." Now it was the visitor who went blank, but there was some surprise to his features. Then he put his hands together, mimicking empathy and compassion. "I'm truly sorry tah hear. Does this mean we have to take....precautions?" This provoked a deep, almost subsonic growl from the black mans position, but nothing changed in his features. "She is not.....It isn't...she's not into that kind of trouble." He opened one of the wooden drawers in his impressive desk and picked up a letter that had been hidden within. "The letter is from a Nosferatu Elder named Skuld." He put it very gently upon the desk between them, like he was daring the other man to pick it up. "She writes to let me know that my childe is currently in her employment in Gothenburg." He got up from his chair, but stayed behind the desk, leaning slightly over it. He was an impressive sight, for a clergyman. And beneath his priestly collar the scar of his hanging could now be seen.
"Which is in Europe. Which makes her an European please tell me, Mr Jeremiah, what kind of precausions you wish to make with my childe?"

They stared at eachother in silence. Father Hosaia needed not draw his claws. Mr Jeremiah did not need to show any of the plethora of powers that were at his disposal. And in the end Mr Jeremiah got up, not to quickly and not to slowly. He opened the door himself. But as he was about to walk out the door, he stopped. Without turning he spoke once more "One of these nights Hosaia...There are lot's of gangrels in Europe too...and I don't think I need to cross the ocean just for her. She is not that special.? He paused. "And she will not save the world."

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