I've been writing my whole life. Haven't all writers? Creative writing, be it bad lyrics that twisted into some decent lines--some have made it into two of my novels, including one of my faves, "No more rules and regulations/shattered here your destination/chiseled on the Walls of Time/no future here, not yours or mine," spat out amidst the aftermath of the major transitional sequence in my second novel (the one being shopped around by my agent), The Wilderness Within, by a character who may or may not be real, to a character transformed into a...no no no. You must wait for thos revelations when it's eventually published. If there's a metal band interested in collaborating, give me an email, haha, what the Hell am I doing?
Rambling as usual, and that whole paragraph kind of fell apart, eh?
So, everything from bad lyrics, some of which have grown into potent lines; to worse poetry, much of which has grown up into potent lines as well, so different focus-wise than my stories, more driven by the world we live in, the madness of reality, of things out of sync, though I also dip into sporadic horror/sf poetry, some erotica and even some that would pretty much qualify as sex poetry, but at least I have a feel for it now. Not like before, but when you've been writing your whole life you better be paying attention and learning at all times. I am not the writer I was twenty years ago. Hell, I'm not the same writer than I was five years ago. Actually, let's be real, there's transitional (transitional: the word of the day, or this blog post) stuff within last summer and now, so it's a constant growth thang, baby. Can you dig it?
So, all that, and stories. Stories that simply wanted to be Horror Stories, but as I grew as a writer simply being Horror Stories didn't seem to be the path my brain wanted to take. Anyway, y'know, there was a point to all of this that I'm going to skip to because, as my girlfriend knows, I can go on sometimes. What, Honey? What do you mean, 'only sometimes'?
;-)
ANYWAY, my point, which there really was one, but now I think it's crossed over into another point about writing, being a writer, though I will steer it back to this post--that's for another one--is that I have never written a vampire story.
Yes, really, that's where I was going when I started. I...I think.
I've dabbled on rare occasion with zombies and have a couple of shape-shifter stories, but vampires? No.
Now, I'm not totally against them. I have hinted at them, veered toward them, but always avoided embracing them. That's where, "Soul Leech," comes into play.
See, I was leading somewhere. I know, I know, I really do know, I often take the scenic route to get there and tonight, what the heck. I'm just embracing the madness of it all.
Will this post make sense?
So, "Soul Leech," one of my earliest published stories. About the time I veered into music journalism which took up the core of my writing for too many years, but I had fun, I had sent off "Soul Leech" to a shape-shifter anthology. They sent back their acceptance...but not for the shape-shifter anthology they were publishing, but for a vampire anthology!
I seem to remember letting them know it's not a vampire story, or at least thinking that much. I was creating a new "creature of the night." But all I remember now, it was published in the vampire anthology, In Darkness Eternal, I think that's the name, from, when was that? The mid-late 90s.
Around 2003 or so, when I decided to get back into fiction writing, I sent it off as a reprint to an anthology dealing with sex and horror, Raging Horrormones, and they accepted it. And worked me good. I lost 500 or more words. The thing was leaner and meaner. A learning process, one of many.
And here's a taste. BTW, some of you may know Medusa is a fave mythological creature of mine. The creature in this story has a vague similarity, let me see if I can find the sequence. Ah, actually, it hooks into the beginning. And for those of you who need to know, my fiction is very adult and sex often play s a key role, alway swith a purpose, though. Character development and all. Hence, this one leads in that direction so...here we go:
***
It was a jungle,
or at least a reasonable facsimile of a jungle, but underneath the truth
exposed itself: the metallic mask glimmered under the full moon’s radiance, a
moon so brilliant as to suggest its validity, its intentions, were in question. Wind swooped down to rattle the metal façade,
initiating an uncompromising assault on the senses. Sound swirled around him, encouraged by the
wind into a jangling, unnerving tantrum.
And there was the
woman. She danced for him, a reckless
frenzy that flowed with confidence and sensuality. A celebration of abandoned inhibitions. He immersed himself in the erotic intensity
she exuded as the forest fell silent, receding into the background as she took
center stage. The moon’s spotlight
showcased her as she danced.
She thrust her
fingers into a mass of sassy curls; her eyes, green and luminous, summoned him,
their detached cunning enhancing her undulating fleshscape. She slithered closer, every step an exercise
in cruelty. She opened to him, an
invitation to bathe in her, to drown in the fleshy tides where dreams and
reality clash; dreams and reality and phantoms intent on rituals of deception.
His legs wobbled;
he slumped to the yielding jungle floor.
Not dirt, just dark and soft. She
pushed him gently, yet firmly, to his back, so comfortable, so comfortable…
Straddling his
hips, she slowly lowered herself onto his erection; an erection held at
unwavering attention. He tried to divert
his thoughts from their impending coupling, wary of such intense
yearnings. But try as he may, the closer
she got, the more he wanted to see her moistness, to watch her as he had so
attentively watched her all along, engulf him.
He saw something silvery drip onto his cock, but it was too late. She took him--
Down came the
jungle, a shower of shimmering slivers—disintegrating. The moon’s leering eye shifted, eclipsed by a
snarl of dazzling white teeth and the cackle that accompanied them, spewing a
sardonic chorus of laughter.
She groaned and
squealed like grinding gears. The
slivers shredded her illusion of flesh, revealing the hideous verity that was
her nakedness. Her body mutated. Large wounds blistered and burst, glistening
scarlet craters that oozed charcoal pus.
The wounds split, vaguely impersonating many aroused vaginas, except for
the serrated edges which puckered and blew him venomous kisses. And the moon laughed, persistent in its
appraisal of the situation: relentless with glee.
...
The unholy thing howled, resonant and powerful. Its lips peeled away, unveiling a mouth
teeming with needle-like teeth, hundreds of them protruding at vicious angles. Its hair was thick, wiry, mimicking Medusa’s heinous pets. Its unrelenting gaze
captivated him just as it had when it danced for him. The forgotten dancer, the mirage…
***
Had to tag on the actual Medusa reference there, a bit later amidst their coupling, though the sassy curls reference weaved that way too.
Again, as with all of the older pieces, I can see much I would tweak and actually tweaked a few things here, but hey, they are what they are and we learn from them and grow.
As for the story, the other "creature of the night"--not a vampire, but the hideous monster above--ends up transforming Nicholas, our main character, into one of them, honing in on one of the essential aspects of being human for all of us: sex. Sex is utilized with a purpose, as a means of survival for this other being, a way to perhaps re-establish its kind in the world as well.
So, stepping away from this bit o' fun, have you bought my collection yet? If you haven't, what's keeping you? If you have, let me know what you think. I'll even post my email address here. We'll see if anybody is paying attention.
It's available via B&N, OmniLit, Amazon in the UK, Germany and France, and here, I'll post the Amazon.com link for you to at least take a gander at the reviews, the book, check the Look Inside function, read "Black Wings" and part of the title story...and buy it! I mean, y'know, there may be a future post on reviews and what exactly hooks somebody into buying a book, if they decide because of a review. I am curious. I mean, there's stuff in some of the reviews that grabs me as a writer and reader that would make me want to check out the book but, yeah, a future post. I gotta dig deeper. For amusement sake or simply the sake of it all.
Man, I am chatty tonight. No, don't, just don't go there...
Next time, oh, who knows? I make plans to meet some more famous dead folks in the AlternaWorld, and will, but then posts like this one pop up, I rip through it, have fun, hope you are amused, and move on.
Just drop in and see, it'll be a surprise, it'll be a surprise for both of us. Here's the creepycool cover art for Raging Horrormones.
