Quest-Bursar

Portrait of vampire engagement by a Western-man thinking he's the legendary Ven Helsing reincarnated for a quest to the Urals for dodecahedrons.

A fun pre-summer tale that reminds us why alternatives to philosophy yields a 'cool' Selfie-traffic modern media 'culture' of mysteries-dialysis. Vampires won't ever die, right? 

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I began my trek to the Urals in search of a rumored vampire-sorceress lady who went by the name Endymion, and I, believing I was the reincarnated vampire-hunter of lore (Van Helsing!), thought to cast myself in an Earth 'field' goal for Selfie-culture of dominion-controls for simplified transit confidence for the 'art' of everyday world sanity (hmmm).

Vampire-lore has been around since man's fascination with the undead, immortality, blood-vitality, and alternatives to medicine; and it's given rise to special vampire 'cults' and Occult magic/lore, banished practices and controversial arts, and of course reflective Western vampire 'fancy' cinema portrayals and Halloween festivities for other-worldly self-idealization of the darker ornaments. Well, I knew of the legend of Dracula and Vlad the Impaler and Van Helsing and other even modern vampire-cult 'social-media' languages in the West concerning 'invisible' circles of blood-sucking or corpse-extracting Satanic/Occult youth 'societies' for darkness/ornament. I knew this vampire-sorceress lady (Endymion) who was reported to be lurking in the Urals and luring trekkers/campers for romance-and-dinner in the 21st-Century. I knew engaging with this lady wouldn't simply be a 'folklore' method of wielding garlic of exorcist-hands of optimism but a tiny hidden homemade silver-metal crossbow with a wooden thin-stake dipped with Holy-Water to pierce Endymion's bloody-heart.

ENDYMION: I'm a lesbian, fool.

ME: I can smell you.

ENDYMION: You claim you're Van Helsing reincarnate.

ME: You can smell me.

ENDYMION: You wish to offer me some diner-plate evening of beef-steak (rare).

ME: We can smell each other.

ENDYMION: If you get past this evening, you'd have earned a home-land shield.

ME: You can smell my fears.

ENDYMION: Not doubt a vampire/lady has the 'will' for Earth helmet-doubts, fool.

ME: I will smell this 'social' art somehow, Endymion (fine).

I returned to my own domain, the American Homeland, survived my 'engagement' with that Urals-vampire sorceress lady (Endymion) and made 'toast' of the micro-miracle with a world-exchange 'reflection' culinary-treat soft/zesty (Indian) luchi-bread thanksgiving-diner plate and remembered that dark-promise the vampire made had I endured my evening with her, which I had, after I poked her heart with my weaponized small-crossbow while we were drinking wine and eating meat. I knew my American Homeland town-house was now suddenly 'shielded' by the warded-off spirits-trophy 'aura' of pseudo-immortality 'prestige' I'd acquired with my contact with Endymion (wow).

ENDYMION: Remember this...your quest for shield's blended with sportsmanship.

ME: I'm not a fool, Endymion.

ENDYMION: When you feel that 'aura' of home-land shied, you'll not be arrogant!

ME: I'm not a fool, Endymion.

ENDYMION: I have premonition your real estate (American Homeland) is Selfie-like.

ME: Perchance we've made for discovery in mortality (Facebook-like).

ENDYMION: Good (farewell!).

"Doing well is the result of doing good. That's what capitalism is all about" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). 

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"Money is everything" (Ecclesiastes)