by H. T. Night
I continued to replay the entire evening and meeting from the day and night before in my head. None of it made sense to me. I needed to chill. I was about to embark on one of the most unusual journeys of my life, or anyone else’s, for that matter. I was traveling to Dracula’s castle, to find a blue gnome, from a vision I had in a dream. It was just a typical, normal day for an American vampire in London.
I landed at Henri Coandă International Airport in Bucharest, Romania. Bucharest was about 100 miles south of Transylvania. It was the nearest airport to the city.
In the airport terminal, there was a little store that had a map of tourist attractions in Romania. As you would think, Dracula’s castle was high on the list of hot spots. They were also famous for their beautiful women, wooden shoes, and wineries. It must have been a real haven for Dracula, with lovely, inebriated women who couldn’t run away too fast in their wooden clogs. Most people didn’t realize that Dracula was a real man who died hundreds of years ago. And it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was a vampire. How did I know this? I didn’t. But if a kid from the Inland Empire could become a vampire, then probably the most notorious vampire in history was probably a real one, even if the books written on him were accepted as fiction. I had seen too many unbelievable things these past couple of months to not consider that most myths might have truth in them, even if it’s just a little bit of truth.
I had struggled with the sunlight on the plane even with the blanket over my head. I had spent most of my time in the bathroom as the great white eagle. I just sat on the toilet in my eagle form and would wait for someone to knock. Then I would transition back and leave so they could take their turn and then jump back into the bathroom when they left and do it all over again. Everyone on that flight must have thought I had the worst case of diarrhea they had ever seen. I guess it validated my story that I gave the airline.
Once I went outside, I needed to fly north for about 100 miles. I wasn’t going to take a bus and, frankly, I could use some fresh air after being cooped up in a stinky bathroom for three hours. That blue water in the airplane toilet did nothing to disguise what nature expelled. Even vampires had to go. What a world.
As I exited through the airport, I was having a hard time with the sun. I needed to get outside fast and transition quickly. I decided to sprint through the terminal once I hit the area where sunlight was blasting in through the windows. The problem with running through an airport is that it draws attention to the runner. There would be no way to quickly transition, once I hit outside. I needed to duck behind a large object, Superman style.
I hustled through the doors and the sun blazed down on my skin like a spitball of fire. My skin stung as if I was under a magnifying glass, burning all of the flesh on my body that was exposed. I’d said it before. Vampires are to the sun like donuts are to deep fryers. Once again, I was a daylight donut, sizzling away in agony.
My face, hands and arms felt extreme amounts of excruciating, horrible pain. I tried to find a place to hide as I ran through the wide-open parking lot. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of, ‘Is this what hell feels like?’ Hell? I hope I never had to get used to this kind of pain!
I saw a giant camper to my left and I dropped behind it and rolled on the ground. Damn, even the ground was blazing hot. I looked backward and forwards. No sign of anyone! I transitioned as quickly as I could. It had never felt so amazing to be the great white eagle. Becoming the eagle felt like I was being baptized into a clean sheet of ice.
I extended my wings and flew up into the sky. I flew high enough to be out of sight. I try to never take my gift of flight for granted, but as I flew across the Bucharest sky, I was highly aware of the magnificent gift I had been given. I have been cursed and blessed, and, sometimes I need to remind myself of my blessings. Giant white wings were a blessing.
I flew across the Romanian sky. I passed cities and mountains and, from the sky, Romania didn’t look much different than the U.S. It appeared to be browner, was all.
I eventually made my way to Transylvania and as I flew into the city you would have thought Dracula himself would have been horrified to see what a sideshow his name and image had become. Everywhere you went there was attention to Dracula in a way that reminded me of a traveling carnival. What did I really expect? Everybody needed to make a buck, or in this case, the Romanian leu, worth about 30 cents to our dollar, when I checked before I left California.
As I expected, the low value of the leu to the dollar had caused a big influx of American tourism. Hell, even America celebrates its dead celebrities more than their live ones. But this, getting to see THE Dracula’s castle, the residence of the legendary creature of terror who started it all—it was now reduced to a cheap Travelocity destination by the recession, which had cut a wide swath across Eastern Europe and left in its wake, a ridiculously cheap way to go on vacation. Apparently, a bottle of wine could be had for about $1.50 US, and gasoline—petrol—was about 45 cents a liter. I was floored. I might not have to use the credit cards at all if I was careful.
As I approached Dracula’s castle, with its whitewashed walls and turrets, I could see two tour buses parked in front of the amazing structure.
How was I going to find this gnome? There were tourists everywhere, I needed to come back at night when they weren’t all crowding the gift shop, looking for Dracula swag to buy and take home to Kansas. God, I hope Dracula was real and I wasn’t just having a bad recurring dream. To see the legend reduced to fake plastic fangs on key chains and humorous bumper stickers must have had him rolling over in his grave, if that’s where he hid out when he wasn’t getting fried like a donut, too.
I flew around until it became dark—yay, eagle wings! If not for eagle wings, I would never see daylight. I made my way to one the nicest hotels in town, the Casa Luxemburg, a hotel with a medieval look to it and the Expedia price of $98 for two nights, including tax. Sweet.
I transitioned back to my Mani form and landed. I was still wearing my ripped tuxedo from the night before. My wallet was still in my front pocket. How the hell did my clothes return to my body? I decided to buy some simple clothes at the gift shop in the lobby. I grabbed a couple pair of shorts and a couple of Tshirts. I bought one that read, ‘I survived Dracula’s castle, and all I got was a bite on my neck and this lousy T-shirt’.
I booked a room on the top floor, so I could just fly in and out of the window. I know this flying thing has made me lazy in some respects.
I went into my room and lay down on my bed in the spacious clean room that faced the square full of pretty Romanian girls selling little wooden shoe bottle openers. I was exhausted from flying all day and decided I could use a nap before going back to Dracula’s castle.
I turned on the cooling fan and just stared at it, willing it to feel like air conditioning. It paid no attention to my superpowers. Within moments, I had fallen asleep. I had fully expected to have a vision, but I didn’t. Instead, I slept pretty soundly. I opened my eyes and looked outside. I had been asleep for about two hours.
I opened the window and felt the cold breeze on my face. I raised the window to its fullest level and then transitioned into the eagle. I flew out of the window and made my way to Dracula’s castle.
I transitioned to my Mani form midflight. Maybe I did it for dramatics; but how many times does one come to a notorious castle such as this one? I wanted to fly in and witness it as a man, not as a bird. I circled the castle and from the night sky, it was a sight to behold in person. The accuracy of my vision astounded me. I lowered my flight and I could see the beautiful courtyard that was dead center of the castle. There was a large open space in which some light has made its way through.
I looked closely, and there he was: the blue gnome! I saw a man no larger than four feet tall sitting in some kind of cross-legged, yoga, relaxed position. He had a bald blue head to go along with his blue body. He was a shirtless, wearing black denim shorts and brown hiking boots. He looked like he was a painted up to audition
for a mini-me Blue Man Group tribute band.
Trying to sneak up on him, I eased into the courtyard, but I didn’t time it well enough, and I hit the ground with a force that should have broken both my legs. I fell to the ground about two feet in front of the creature. Not to mention, I said “Oooff!” when I fell.
He looked down on me with his squinty yellow eyes. “You made it, Josiah. Not exactly the most graceful of entrances, but you’re here.” He seemed genuinely happy to see me.
“Hey, there.” I stood up and was a tad embarrassed, but I was eager to see what this meeting entailed. “You obviously know who I am,” I said. “What is your name?”
He smiled and stood on his feet. “I am Goshi,” he said, and he bowed with his hands clasped together like a Kung Fu Master.
“Goshi,” I repeated his name back at him. “Nice. I like.”
“Have you come a long way?” he asked.
“I came halfway across the world to meet you and hear what you have to say. You didn’t exactly give me your email address in the visions. That might have been helpful.”
“You are from the States?” he asked. I was surprised he didn’t know where I came from. I assumed whomever or whatever told him to meet me here would have given him more of a heads up.
“Yes, California,” I answered.
He looked like he was trying to think of something to say nice about California. After a moment he said, “I hear you have good fish tacos. We don’t have those here.”
I chuckled. I was enjoying our little meet and greet, but I had some questions that needed to be answered ASAP.
“Who are you?” I asked simply to the little blue man. “And who has sent you to speak to me?”
“Who has sent me?” He looked at me, puzzled.
“How come our paths have crossed?” I clarified.
“The world is an unpredictable place and what was belief has become skepticism. What was once fantasy is now reality.”
“I appreciate the Yoda double talk, but seriously, who are you?”
“I told you, I am Goshi,” he said calmly.
“Okay, Goshi, you mentioned in one of my dreams that I needed to come see you to be trained like some kind of vampire Jedi. So, let’s start with that. Why would a Mani man need to be trained by a tro—” I caught myself because I didn’t want to insult him.
“A troll?” he asked. “Is that what you meant to say?”
“Is that what you are?” I asked honestly.
“This is the form that was given to me so I could remain discreet,” he said plainly.
“Why the blue?”
“Why not? It is the color of the sky, sapphires, and most of all, the blood in veins.”
“Okay. You just said the magic word. Blood. Has the Triat sent you to me?”
“You ask too many questions. It’s time for your first lesson. Let’s discuss fighting.”
“Fighting? You are going to teach me how to fight?”
“Why does that perplex you?”
I shook my head and decided I’d better start showing some humility, or this was not going to be the greatest of experiences.
“Okay, what do I need to learn?” I asked.
“Let’s see.” The troll went into a fighter position.
“You want to fight me?” I asked, surprised.
“I need to know your weaknesses.”
Was this guy for real? I had killed one of the most notorious vampires of all time, not to mention a mammoth werewolf too. Fighting was the last thing I needed help with.
“Attack me,” he said.
I stood still.
“Attack me!” he repeated.
“It’s not right. You don’t have my reach, my weight, my MMA training.”
“Do it, Josiah!” he demanded.
Everything in my core did not want to attack this tiny man, but dammit! I needed to get this show on the road.
I lunged forward and threw a nonchalant right cross at about half strength, handicapping myself in a foolish sense of fairness. He ducked and then kicked me right in the balls. As I began to go down in slo-mo, I recognized the maneuver from a tiny opponent as one of the dastardly moves in one of the Austin Powers movies. Yes, the balls. I’m not sugar coating it. This little blue shit kicked me as hard as he could in my testicles. Not cool! I fell backward, holding my manhood, my package. I was hurt and angry.
“Why the hell did you do that?” I screamed at him.
“Because you attacked me,” he said.
“You told me to!”
“Do you do everything people tell you to? Even when you know it is not the right thing to do?”
“I do when I travel across the world to see them! You kicked me in the worst spot possible!” I felt my groin and I don’t think I had ever been kicked that hard in that particular area in my entire life. It hurt on a whole different level. My feelings were pretty damn hurt, too. I came halfway around the world to see him and he kicked me in the jewels, almost first thing! What the hell?
Goshi stood over me while I lay in pain, trying to get my breath. “It was the worst for you, but it was the best place for me to strike you. If I know that you have a kryptonite on your body, why wouldn’t I attack that area? Especially if you were the one who attacked me first? You were the one who broke all kinds of ethical ground by attacking me. I don’t owe you any courtesy after that. Everything is fair game. Even the privates.”
“So, what’s the lesson here?” I asked, painfully getting to my feet and trying not to hurl. “I should start going around kicking my enemies in the nuts and just forget about martial arts etiquette?”
“No, Josiah. You missed the point. The lesson is ‘to never attack first.’ You leave yourself not only vulnerable physically, but vulnerable politically! Why should any man fight by any kind of code of ethics after being disrespected by being attacked?”
I shook out my junk from where the parts were shrunk up into my belly in horror and misery. That little fucker took way too much pleasure kicking me in my holiest of holies. “So, never throw the first punch?” I squeaked out.
“No. You can always throw the first punch if both of you are squared up.”
“What are you saying then?” I asked.
“Never provoke an altercation. Remember when you and Tommy fought off the werewolves back at Tommy’s cabin? You went out and attacked the lone werewolf who was only on the lookout. As you recall, you remained the eagle and you took him by surprise. You made yourself completely vulnerable. You are not meant to fight as the eagle. You are only meant to save and defend when you are in that form.”
I remembered that night, and he was right. I did attack first. I actually felt bad when I killed him. It was the only killing that has bothered me. I knew on some level I was wrong for attacking him first, unprovoked.
Well, what a great first lesson. I smiled at Goshi.
“You agree?” Goshi asked.
“I agree,” I said. “How did you know about that night?”
“Goshi has his ways.” Great, if I didn’t have enough to worry about, apparently, I have had a blue gnome stalking me spiritually.
Goshi then said, “You also have a problem with your technique.”
“My fighting technique?” Now, this was getting personal. One thing I had was great technique! “How so?” I asked.
“You mix it up too much. You like to balance kicking and punching. If you could win a battle with only one army, why would risk a second army to go into battle if you didn’t have to?”
I had an answer for that. I said, “Because sometimes you would need to give the other army a break, so it can rest. So, the armies are my arms and legs?”
“Now you’re getting it. Are you resting them? Or are you showing off? If you can kill a man with a shotgun, why bring a machete with you? It’s better to get the job done fast, then to look pretty doing it. Save the drama for... what’s that place? Hollywood.”
I saw his point. Again, I nodded my head.
> “Let us train, Josiah.” Goshi circled me and we began sparring with one another. My blue friend proceeded to show me a variety of ways to punch an opponent when they are off balance by using my ability to float up in the air. Floating added a whole new element to positioning in a fight. I noticed that in my last two altercations, it threw off my opponents. I just didn’t know how to control it. We continued to work on striking and kicking. We eventually stopped at around four in the morning.
“You need to go back to your hotel,” he said. “You need rest. Also, you need to call whoever is waiting for you back at home and tell them you will not contact them until our training is over.”
“Really? She’s my girlfriend. She’s gonna pout if I put her on the back burner.”
“Really, Josiah. I need your undivided attention.”
That sucked.
Then Goshi added, “Tomorrow, we will work on your awful landings. There is nothing graceful about you, Mani.”
Oh, that hurt almost as much as the groin kick. Almost.
Chapter Seven
I flew back into the open window of my hotel room.
I went over to the phone by the bed and read the printed card about how to make an international call in English. I knew this was going to be the last time I could talk to Lena for a while, and I needed to make sure it was a good one. I swiped my credit card through the funky phone interface.
“Hello,” Lena answered.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said.
“It is you,” she said. “Are you the Duke of Earl yet?”
“Not exactly.”
“Date didn’t go well?”
“It wasn’t a date. I told you I didn’t trust her. Also, she wasn’t The Duchess of Windsor.”
“Really? She wasn’t Helen?” Lena laughed out loud. “Don’t tell me you had never seen her picture before?”
“Nope, never.”
“Oh, my gosh, that is so funny!”
“Well, now I have.”
“I hope she didn’t rob you. Should I tell Hector an English gypsy stole his diamond-plated credit card?”