The last dance on earth. Concluding part.Eternal

“So you say he died by blood being drained from his body.”

‘ Unless your deaf Napoleon. Yes he is drained of every body fluid. ”

” Through two tiny holes in the neck.”

” Those exact holes ,yes.”


” Im good at my work ,but not a magician .Cant say how it is done. Cant hazard a guess even. Unless we consider your man in the cells statement and we are dealing with Vampires;   that is .”

” Vampires .Its 2019 Doc sort of out of date ,redundant on death of Bram Stoker I believe.”

” Whitby Abbey and the bats are fiction it is true. Stoker is dead .Then so is our victim who is remarkably similar to the story that you elude to Detective.”

‘ All of them died this same way. If it was Holland I would say someone was after cash by selling plasma to hospitals. ”

‘ Then Holland no longer pays for blood .I see your point but how it fits in to the facts. Maybe we are looking at this wrongly. How about if it is shipped abroad to sell”


‘ Good man you ill set my team of it right way. Thanks Doctor .”

:Dont mention it Im sure.”

Over the following few days all stops were out. Trying to find a link into blood sales abroad .Nothing that could not be fully sorted and proved.  Then a disturbance in the cells .A scream and all rushed down to see a woman at the detainees  throat . Detective shot her in the head and a face of the dead looked at him, her eyes opened, green and flashing. All fell back under her spell but he did not but emptied his pistol into her heart.

She let out a roar as loud as it was deep. She brought her teeth to his neck as a flash but he opened his shirt to show the silver cross and she hissed like a goose and vanished.  He felt the darkness folds pass his head  a thin almost invisible line had parted the darkness as a slightly flowing robe. All came too .The dead man in the cell draped head down in his own blood, eyes wide open as if searching the detectives face. From that moment on all there had been left in no doubt but a vampire did exist.

He walked home across Waterloo Bridge, alone, armed and shaking, with anger and even fear held him still in mind. Onward to his lodging s then there she was just ahead of him. Her powerful gaze held him for just a moment then he shot a hole in his over coat pocket. She smiled but it was a silver bullet made from a childhood blessed cross. Her face aged she clung to the rails in shock gasping for life to try to enter the tide below but he was on to her holding her arm. The sun was setting over Waterloo .


The Thames River red with glow. Her face fell apart she cried pitifully as bit by bit she turned to ash. The last light of the sun fell upon her and it was all over. He held the gun in his hand as four policemen raced to the scene to arrest a terrorist but saw who it was and a pile of black dust at his feet.

A day later,his  police station was full of reporters after a story having heard by the grapevine that some woman was shot on the bridge.It had taken that long to put two and two together. He looked up from his desk. “You lot sod off home . Nothing happened it is but rumour only. No story here. We have work to do keeping the city clean.”


You will not find this story in the reports of police files stored nor from newshounds who could not even dream of making it up .As who would believe them if they had.We know that Vampires are but tales from the grave and fiction reigns as King. Then do we even now what is in the darkness when un protected we sleep. How can we known all that is on earth for who has seen a ghost must have open mind.

One hopes you liked this three part story.  Another next week, as this tale is over.

Thank you for reading. Being with us even those who come via GAVITAR as cannot get through to thank them personally just hope they know I care. So another story over, working on the next as we speak. God be with you all where ever you are in this world.


Copyright Kevin James Parr Bt 2020.

The blackness. part two.Eternal

The soft green eyes peered at the shop keeper. Her scent intoxicating. Her face chalk white but red her parted lips. A veiled silence as he drew back to the wall. His terror had begun that would not take long to vanish ,along with his soul.

The London street filled with police and newspaper hounds echoed a wild buzzing noise that rose to the roof tops. The windows and the slates even rattled as something evil was present; ever watching.

The copse of John Blakely was inserted into the waiting ambulance without ceremony.


” What killed him Doctor ?” enquired the lax Detective.

Waterloo Bridge in London over the River Thames

Waterloo Bridge, London.


” Hard to ascertain Sherlock. Seems something bit him in the juggler. Know more after I have him on my table. Say 3pm. Tatty bye for now dont fret yet. Always an answer.”

” Always calls you Sherlock sir is that his way of telling you he respects you ?”

“Who knows me old mucker. . Anyway he was bit in the neck by something. Remember that case last year of dead Inspector and his aide de campe who died in line of duty chasing a vampire?”

‘ Thought they ended up stabbed not bitten sir.?”

‘ Yes but the note book suggested the interview was with a dark young man with shadowy ways. Kept appearing out of no where.  May just have been this Valentine chap was shifty. Anyway we never ever traced him.”

” And your point sir is?”

” I think all that case was about one man called Valentine who killed the woman landlord and was interviewed by us only to murder coppers  and fade into the gray mists of legend like a tale of Edgar Alan Poes. ”

” Was he involved too?”

” No. Now take me back to the station .I have work to do. ”

The thin wind whistled under the Waterloo bridge as the sun set over the scene. The cloak of night ,silky black folds of vapor, rose from the flowing water. Mirage like hardly seen by human eye the shape formed into a woman in a black flowing evening dress. Stood on the bridge her sparkling green eyes drew in the air like a vacuum bringing the victim to her side from the pavement below his feet.

Early morning.

“Right another one, holes in the neck. Who is he Cummings?”

” Wallet in his jacket gives him to be one Peter Gordon Finch or 452 Longbourn Avenue Brixham London sir.”

‘ Suited booted and on the bridge .Was he an office worker on his way home.What time did he die? Where is Doctor D?”


“Been and gone sir.He said his guess was around 7pm last night but-”

” Yes I know, he will know more after he carves him up.Any sign of attack.”

“No, none sir. Holes in his neck, Doc says he is drained of blood too.”

“How amazing, could have told me that first.”

Doctor James Dee looked deep into the depth of the holes in the skin. He found that sealed was the blood by some sort of liquid seal. As if an animal had killed him. He then thought it more likely a medical injection but no trace was in the skin and blood none existing so then stopped his investigation going ahead. He decided that the man had died at between 6.-7.12 pm and moved on to his next autopsy  with a puzzled mind.

The vapour drifted smoke like across the docklands as dawn broke two more bodies came to the case as Doctor Dee and the police stood over the sailor of Asian origin.

“So more holes in the neck Doc. Any idea what we are looking for as a  killer yet? ”

” Not a clue. Seems animal or reptile even as what ever drinks the blood seals off the body. Well! the holes anyway.”

‘Great so we are searching for a snake as our killer then Doc?”

“Keep your hair on It may even be clearer after I cut him up. Maybe call me at 5pm ish May have more to tell you then. ”

The other body seen that morning was a boy aged around 14. Clearly an accident but again holes in the throat gave the game away. The swift River Thames ran bold and noise was its temper hitting and splashing against the Tower gate. Inside a man deep down in the cells knew well the green eyed beauty as he was the only one who had ever escaped her fangs. Shaking at the news she had returned he entered the police station in a large Arab towel around his head and an overcoat twice around him over sized. He spoke in whispers to the desk and soon had the Detective at his side.

‘Fancy dress is it sir?”

No. Certainly not. I can tell you who she is who kills so many but lock me in your cell now for my own protection..”

“So who is it that you know sir?”

” She is the devils daughter and a vampire .She haunts me still but she failed to kill me and so avoided death by inches. ”

” I see .A vampire . They dont exist sir so Ill lock you up if you wish as a raving nut case if you like.”

‘ Call me what ever you will officer but lock me up and never leave me alone. I will show you who you are looking for but. Lock me where she cant get to me first. ”

He smiled but did as was asked to secure a name ,if indeed the man was not the idiot that he thought . He was now sat in a cell unwrapping the towel.

‘ Right sir ,comfy are we?”

‘ Never switch that light off officer. Now listen to me. 12 months back I was a window cleaner in Brick Lane working. I heard a scream and blow me down there she was . Never saw me up the ladder see. No she had her arm around a woman and I ,true as im here, bit her in the neck. For some moments locked together they stood below me.Then the woman slipped to the floor like a dress of her shoulders and the offender looked up at me. Sent chills right down me see. I must have fainted and fell off me perch but last thing I recall was seeing her fly right level to me. Anyway one of your lot arrived as the screams had alerted the area. He must have seen what was happening as I came to earth.Seems many came to help me who knew me as a window cleaner. Anyway here I was in a hospital bed with only concussion. I read it in that evening news. Woman died by accident in Brick Lane flats. Not right at all but I hear that same copper who helped me died just a moment later. Seems he too met Lady Green eyes ,face to face.”

Story continued next week.


The night is cold winter is at the throat of darkness and the little lamp lighted street is silent other than the patter of heavy rain upon the roof tops of terraced city property. A young man is with raincoat over his head at the door of a guest house. it is the only door painted red in this street. We take our tale inside as viewers.


“Come in sir.Your wet in this rain. I am happy to serve you with food. ”

“I thank you fair Iilania.”

“You know my name. How?” she took two steps back and looked at his youthful face. Fire brimmed in those dark eyes.

“Come now child .I was directed here ,yes, by -,someone ,He told me who to ask for.No more than that. Have you wine and a meal, I can pay you well.”

She nodded and left to see the kitchen. He took off the great coat from around his shoulders and stood in the black suit watching the fire glow around the room.  An electric lamp shone over the table and as he was about to seat himself the return of the landlady bringing a tray of ware to him. He settled down to drink the wine and pick at the meat.

“It was fresh from the market first thing this morning .Is it alright sir,you look vexed.”

He looked up at her with brighter face than she had seen at the door. He smiled and raised his glass in way of thanks. She wanted to sit and watch this most strange man but that she knew was rude and so made her self a way back into the back room.  About an hour went by she could hear no sound in the next room. Thinking him asleep she edged her way to that door . The room was empty the fire dead and the wine bottle missing. The hot meat lay untouched save for teeth bites in one end that shocked her much. She lifted the plate to find his card and twenty pound note folded next to it. As the wine cost 5 and the meal 4 pounds and he had clearly left her home his long gray coat too had gone she considered it profit and bolted the main door for the night.

Over the next few nights she dreamed of this man which terrified her.His gentle bearded face she could not get out of her mind. She lived on her own since her mother had died in the March last. She could tell no one.She had taken down the sign for bed and breakfast long ago as winter was her rest time. This man who was he that came to her at night. The card fell from the table as she dusted the room next morning. She decided to make a call on him as insider her pounding heart she truly desired to know.  So it was that this poor lady went the way of others.Her body found sat in a church pew by vicar and the sidesman. Dead was she drained of blood and whiter than snow, dead was she.


Over the police case Inspector James had come to interview this man at 12 Corner Parade. A flat over a tobacconist shop. The stairs leading steeply up to a brown faded door that when opened led into a nicely laid out lounge. James was not alone at his side his able constable  Briggs pencil and pad in hand. Not a soul was in that room save they.

On a walk around certain observations did they observe. Photographs of Rome and a girl very pretty looked out from the print with sad countenance. A silver coffee pot steamed on a silver tray set on the highly polished marble table near the fire ,set but not lit.

It was then that they looked up to see this fellow stood between them.He looked into their faces with a certain mischief in his eyes.


“How did you do that trick .You are Valentine De Mortica I take it.?”

“I am, police officer, that same man. Come I have set coffee for you. I have cake and some fine rare cheese if it takes your interest wine too. ”

” You are expecting someone sir?”

‘Not now Inspector. You see you are here already. Please take a seat, how rude of me not to suggest that you must relax. ”

” I have come here to interview you over the death of Miss Jones of 45 lavender lane. You are known to have visited her on that exact evening of her death. ”

“Yes that is true.I did. ”

‘ Who are you and where are you from?”

” I am a native of Rome .My name you have, what more can I say on what you demand.”

” I want the truth sir. Did you kill her?”

” Direct. inspector .I see.But do you?”

“How do you mean. Look I am loosing my temper with this circus act of movement .Sit down here and tell us all you know. ”

“Then I will , of course. I must start at the beginning. It must be said before hand that you will need proof .I am not so sure that you will want the proof but I freely will give it if that is what you desire.Then you must tell me that is what you both desire. The whole truth I mean”.

‘But of course man you must tell us all .You killed her I know now. ‘

“No she is not dead to me sir. But onward from the start.

It was the year 1723 I was but a young man looking for a woman in the built up area behind the Opera House in Milan. Her hair was so fine and like an angel her countenance .Her scent filled me with excitement and her soft breasts against me ,full passion arose. Then she leaned her head on my shoulder;  like that of a child at play .She sunk into my neck, – painfully . For only a tick of the clock ,painfully, then rapture and joy,  passion as I had never known. It was my rebirth at  that moment, you see. Green her eyes hooded her head and pale her lovely face.  She made me who I am.”

1723 .You are say maybe  23 now maybe 26 but no more .What tale is this sir. I came to take you in and gave you the chance to come clean. Not this fantasy.”


” The darkness I call it inspector.  So,  and now for your proof. ”

The flat above the tobacconist  shop filled with doctors pathologist and police crowded into that room. The dead inspected had been killed by dagger by the flat tenant now vanished. The pathologist left .The policeman filed out one by one and the doctor closed his leather case. The Inspector and his Constable both dead .Bodies only and now being taking on to the morgue.

From that day to this the case has gone on with dead ends . No Valentine De Mortica existed and three murders but one vanished corpse out of city morgue was never accounted for. The lady owner of the guest house was never found. It was a sad end indeed to a story .Then the teller know it all. We may meet in time and place and Ill ask what you really desire then. Go carefully my dear. For joy as you have never know and life ETERNAL is what I offer.


One hopes my loyal readers will sigh at this short tale of immortality.

Yours as always and forever .Sir Kevin.


copyright Kevin James Parr Bt 2020.


The great hijack in the sky.

1971 .America. A man who called himself Dan Cooper boarded a passenger flight as a well dressed business man. After take off he handed a letter to the air hostess  .He said nothing as the latter was self explained. It said that in his case he had a bomb.He demanded 200000 dollars and 3 parachutes. Or plane would explode. At no time did he speak or remove the dark sunglasses off his face. The hostess was to tell the airline right away. They landed  at 5.24pm at Seattle Tacoma airport       For received amount of cash demanded and the 3 chutes. Taking off as soon as all was collected he asked for      They told him only enough fuel for

He then told them to lower the plane to 2000 feet and slow speed down. The landing gear down The plane was the only model that had the staircase lift at rear. This staircase did not affect the planes control but after a while slowed the plane down. Some time went by until a deeply concerned pilot Bill Scott aged 51 saw that no one was on that stair and so closed it. The bomb and cash bag gone with Cooper. He had jumped into thin air.

indexwitness and photofit of Dan Cooper given to police by flight attendants.

Over the 49 years since this FBI case began no one has caught the hijacking thief Dan Copper. If that was his real name? Not a marked back note was spent. The man in question had no idea of terrain as he had asked for — So dressed in a thin business suit with a case and a bag of cash he jumped off someplace between-

The shoot had no modern control strings .Then another fact is it was winter and from even 2000 feet the cold and windchill may have frozen him as badly he may not have pulled the rip cord. Lets say he did but then cold as ice he hits the fast flowing river and is knocked out on impact. He dies in 6 seconds. The bag splits and 25k leaks out to shore. The great dam takes him in and that grinds him up and shoot also. No trace of him after which is what the FBI could not face and the hunt went of for 45 years for this man Copper taking his legend into history as never ever caught. Then the man died that moment he jumped from the plane he had in effect signed his own death warrant. To me it is a case still on as who was he is the biggest question ever asked of FBI. Someone knew him that is for certain. Many have come forward with details of parent or uncle of even a woman. Silly as not one note was spent so if he exists what did he bother to rob that cash for if not to spend. We can rule out  he was intelligent as he did not know where that plane could take him he had not given thought to fuel.  He had not worked out a thin suit was silly in a sky dive at night in coldest part of winter and in a storm. My guess he was just a chance taker with first time robbery.

Boeing_727-51_N838N_Piedmont_ORD_30.09.79_edited-2 REAL PHOTO OF PLANE INVOLVED.

Who he was he was not DB Cooper that is for certain. When he failed to come home someone lodged a case with police.Yet did FBI check all states .I doubt it. Yes he made fools of FBI as they even today have no clue at all of who he was.

Mystery even today but is mine the only conclusion? I think so.

Yours with love and respect as always,Sir Kevin.

copyright Kevin James Parr Bt 2020

The tale of the Lady of ill fate

Cold the gathering storm winds across the English Black Hills. The flurry of winter biting deep into the horses fetlocks as his rider bent over in the saddle was dead .Shot by the arrow from outlaws in the forest.


The Kings road was no place for honest traders and the forest was alive with vermin not just animal but human garbage. The chill night cut into the slowly moving mount as the dead could not sound the alarm.

Soon the riders caught up with the prey and relieved  the saddle bags of its treasure. The rider fell to the frozen earth as the horse was led back with the outlaws of Somerset valleys and forest trails.

That treasure stolen from the Kings tax man went a long way to feed the many hidden in strong ales and meats. The invading revenge finding nothing. The outlaws grew in number and became the deadly threat to safety along the highways of old England.

It was 1343 and not a man would venture into the wilds even for trade without an army of armed supporters. Then the visit of Count Fairfax and his daughter Lady  Alice was well guarded but the capture of her was planned to perfection. From the rear outlaws dressed as Fairfaxs men divided the progress by means of fallen tree and the six riders took hold of the reins and raced off with the prize. By the turn of hoof and men it was too late as forest was silent and not a trace of his daughter was found.

For days his men searched the forest glades for the camp of the thieves but not a sign was to emerge from the dark folds of trees. It was end of day three and Fairfax livid with the town officials for allowing outlaws to exist on the Kings highway and Forest Royal was handed a ransom note. 6000 golden nobles for the return of Lady Alice.

In the glades the fires burned roasting the Kings venison and in a cage hanging from a tree sat the silent Lady in pure terror a captive. The man feasted and drank and talk was of Fairfax and the cash load demanded. Lady Alice began to fear her fate at the hands of drunken villains and as the night went on she was made to dance nude around the fires all touching her as he cried and tip toed softly trying to hide her shame. Then she was handed around to all of them in turn. it was hell on earth and her bloody body was made ready to return to her father either way. for two days it went on but Fairfax made sure he had the cash sum. He with some sixty knights rode in the forest with shouts to bring in the enemy. Nothing happened and so Fairfax lay the money bag across an oak tree branch knowing he was being watched and with drew a half mile .He waited

A half hour, then they all rode back to find the Lady Alice hanging from the tree and the gold vanished.

Fairfax roar of pain could be heard across the county .Her lifeless battered body in his arms he ordered the forest to be torched. Fire raced through the undergrowth into the trees flames leaped.The wind fanning it until at length it reached the camps as a burning inferno. Gases and smoke and coughing as the outlaws crawled out to be shot by sixty knights all around the line of last ditch defenses.             Arrow and sword stopped all but three men who almost almost escaped but riders cut them down like wheat corn in the ripening fields.

A blood bath ensued and so it came to be the end of all as Fairfax answered to king John upon the loss of his hunting grounds in Taunton.  He was executed on Tower Hill without mercy in February 1345

Her ghost is said to haunt the cross roads near the town road to Bath and other way to Midlands.  Her form is of a lady in white with a Blue riding cape with hood mantle up.

Many have reported seeing s vision or just a glow against the road side but one account of 1932 do tell of a man who fell off his cycle in daylight near the cross road cross. he was demented as he told the men who  tried to help him that her face was all bloody and torn and she came near him to show her face well to him. He told the police that her eyes as bright as bobbins but her torn flesh hanging from her cheek full of blood made him feel guilty and terrified. He never recovered it seems.


This in part,  a true story. Yours Sir Kevin

Copyright Kevin Parr Bart 2020.


The last dance with life.

A silent lane where once a rail way ran. Just a station in the rural Oxfordshire countryside. A one time main archery to London. Today it is so. For Sam Harlow long ago it was destined to be the last place in England he would ever be.index

It was June the 21st in the year of grace 1913. A subscription dance given by the council to the locals each year. From across the floor Sam Harlow cast eyes on the love of his life. He 18 years of age an apprenticed joiner at the firm of Peters and son ltd. She the daughter of the Earl of Dean. Two worlds apart but here no barriers existed just a country dance by invite and membership. Sam asked, she marked her card and he was forth in line to take her hand in a slow arrangement by the band. His ability to hold her impressed the Lady Edith but for her it was as for all just a dance and when it came to an end she thanked him and took her leave. He had fallen for her, a prize too high .She was back with her friends ,he alone and unable to venture forth as now the Earl and his wife appeared to escort the Lady Edith home.

In his heart he thought how lovely ,kind and impressive she was. He knew how hard it would be but would not give up on loving her. For the Lady Edith he had faded into the day before and gone from mind.

Six months later Sam was at this rail station wearing the uniform of the Oxford pals; Engineers ready for France to fight the Hun. It was from here at this station that he last saw England. In his pocket he carried the newspaper photograph of his love after being flung out of the Earls gardens by the bailiffs as trespasser twice during his efforts to win her.

He loved her more than life by now but she did not even now his name ,nor did she care what it was. She hardly knew him and had put him out of her mind that night after that one dance.index

The Front.  Mud filled, rat infested trenches, barbed wire fences, rolls of the stuff laying wildly all over. Whistle blows ,Over the top  and machine guns knock the life from the lads. Fast to fall ahead all the way to be cut to bits by gun fire and cannon. No place for pity just try after try to take another 12 feet of land. Sam survived the hell that was the Somme and found himself laying on a field kitchen table being cut open by the surgeon removing metal blastings from his arm. He came too to see her smiling down at him. Lady Edith herself taking his hand. It was not a dream .She a nurse volunteer along with many others good ladies from England who cared. She was puzzled as she could not say she knew him. In the days leading up to her ultimate death he was recovering fast unlike the poor injured helpless each side of his bed. Screaming and upset as many who would not walk again understood what pain was. Some dead within that singular moment.


He was up but in no mind of his own as  that gun was still firing in his head. Lady Edith tried to hold him back. He wanted to kiss her and he placed his blooded hands around her neck to pull her to him over the narrow bed and in that singular action he broke her neck. Limp she went and he grasped her in his arms pulling her to him.

He was sitting on the bed with her body over his knee sobbing when the Red Caps arrived guns drawn to arrest him. Sams mind was back far away, guns blazing, dead all over him, when they took his wrist he fast as a flash, removed the pistol from the policemans hand; put it to his head and pulled the trigger. For him that gun finally stopped firing for  he lay dead on the earth floor of the tented ward of beds.

The rows of white crosses stand mute in the sand .A grass lands of death mark the spot where some 8 million lay.Then not Sam Harlow even though he was a brave soldier his mind had gone and Lady Edith made it worse for him in rejection. This is what he thought but he had no wish to kill her. In his daze the mind leaving him his action was to hold her only in human warmth. Lady Edith was 21.  Poor girl lost her life serving as a field hospital orderly out of her compassion for the soldier at war.It cost her her life through fate.  Her cold and stiff body was shipped home to the family vault. Sam to the trench marked for fill in within reach of the tent flap door. War was over four days later.The trench is still there to see today as it will be for all time. Just outside of Paris past the great Cathedral of Rhiems about an English mile.On the right hand side of the road before the tree lined parade.  It says clearly on top of the mound over the trench. ‘The glorious Gloucesters held this trench. They hold it still.”

A sad story I agree .Mistaken love and gas in the lungs  the Devil at his work. That rail station was closed years ago by Doctor Beaching and Government mistakes. Some nights when the moon is in the sky riding the clouds like a ship on the sea and the wind is in the east to fill the sails .The ghostly voice calls out above the trees and through the deluge in the dykes you can just faintly hear it call.” Edith. ” As the blackbird sings from his pulpit a sermon to the parting day. No more than that but a chill runs down the spine of those abroad on nights as this.

Farmer and tramp alike  know well.  Walk to that old rail station even in the day light is just as bad as all the time your feeling is Im being watched by unseen, dead eyes. Perhaps beyond that curtain a soldier may be just as lost as all those years ago he was. We know nothing until the time comes when all questions will be answered.   A time when we are selves will find rest .

Thank you all for reading my story.

Copyright Sir Kevin Parr Bt 2020.