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The Twisted Biography of the author

ANTON VON STEFAN

Part sixteen  - the author vanishes 

Sometime after Anton Von Stefan's return from his Gothic Journey to St. John's, I attempted to make contact with him. Much to my consternation, I was unable to locate the author. Making numerous enquiries through my usually accurate contacts, I still came up empty handed. Thus, I took it up myself to reestablish a direct link with this venerable fellow. Looking both high and low; and, knowing his stature and his past acquaintances, I must admit that I looked mostly in the lower places which I knew him to frequent. Yet, after a considerable effort, I am most ashamed to admit to you, the reader, that I failed miserably in locating our author.

To most of you, who have not made a lifetime of recording but a single person's life, the loss of that individual is not of much concern. To me, a humble biographer, it was a most devastating blow. However, I made the best of it in light of my frustrated endeavours. As I looked upon my negligent performance, the idea of a much needed reprieve from the myriads of years (to say nothing of the hours) of uninterrupted diligence in the observation of this one man, Anton Von Stefan, popped into my overwrought brain. I took it upon myself to take a long over-due vacation.

Europe, on a pauper's wages is something that would have put me in the poor house long before I landed in Paris. Travelling in baggage down the coast and into the Adriatic Sea, I found reasonable accommodation in Bar, Montenegro. It is not Italy, but it is close enough for the few pennies I had to spend at the time.

Sitting just above the 42^nddegree of North Latitude, this tiny little town was “just what the doctor had ordered”, if I actually had the money to have consulted a physician after I had lost contact with Anton Von Stefan. Wide promenades, incredibly beautiful rows of palm trees in every direction I looked, warm pebble beaches with the Adriatic Sea sitting just above 28 degrees Centigrade, quaint shops, and tiny bars lining these same shores made Bar a most memorable place. Yet, if that was all that I told you, the reader, I would mislead you. The “Sobe” I was able to find was a “hotel” of perfection! The young, beautiful lass that waited at the door upon my arrival, the fantastic room overlooking the back alley with that aged palm tree, reminded me of a better life when I stayed at a three star hotel in Hawaii. Yet, it is that person who had welcomed me to the accommodations which will forever make this particular stay remain a cherished moment.

“Yes we have Wi-Fi, free for our guests,” the lovely voice said as I enquired about the internet. “ You do not have your OWN laptop, you can use mine, anytime!” No, that is something which I know our well-to-do author has never heard spoken by staff at any of the 5 star hotels he usually stays at!

I, unequivocally was at rest; yet, the location of Anton Von Stefan was still an inexplicable mystery. He had simply vanished off the very face of this earth!

Go To: The Miraculous Rediscovery of the Gothic Author

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