The Journals of Barnabas Collins

The miscreant who ushered me into this new world goes by the name of William Loomis.  He prefers “Willie,” and I hesitate to list the connotations of that.  While feeding, a process that both invigorated me and made me somewhat ill given the various (and inferior) intoxicants in his blood, I heard his thoughts and saw through his eyes many of the visions of the day.  Faces were indistinct, however, I postulate that I have learned enough to function for limited periods without calling undue attention to myself.  Loomis took my measurements and purchased for me a rather drab suit of clothes (via something called a ‘fence’ who deals in fine jewelry), something fit more for a chimney sweep than a gentleman, but it will have to due.  From what I can tell from his mind, if we dignify that rum-soaked lump of offal resting between his ears with such…

View original post 125 more words


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: