Tag Archive | novels

What Do You Want with Your Life?

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I’ve been nagging myself with that question in these past few months but I still don’t know what my ultimate goal is.

Sure, I want to be sucessful. I want a stable job and a simple life with a family. I want a life that I don’t have to worry about not being able to eat tomorrow. That I can provide for myself and my family. It was just a simple dream. But the thing is, it felt impossible. Unattainable. That I really have to go out of the country just to attain that. Because in here, my profession is in vain.

And there goes writing. I want writing to be my profession, not just a hobby, but my parents didn’t allow me to take any writing related courses so instead, I became a licensed Pharmacist. Not that I hate my current job. I love being a Pharmacist but I just don’t like the current practice here in my country.

I know I don’t need to have a degree just to write. But knowing you are well qualified still means something.

I know a lot of things. I read a lot. I know how to do them. But I still feel insufficient. I still feel useless.

Maybe I just missed my regular readers in college. Since we graduated, I barely see them. My colleagues at work don’t even read. I don’t understand why they never read novels. Probably, they never read a book that could amaze them. Or they were just so lazy to open and read one.

Sometimes, I want to hate my life. That I felt unlucky compared to others in my age. But I know it’s not true. I’m lucky. I get to do a lot of things I love. I can write anything I want.

But what do I want with my life?

Aside from those simple things, my ultimate goal probably is: To be able to share to the world my stories and novels and poems, hoping somehow they could inspire them. I know I have a lot to learn. And what I learned would be shared as well.

Or maybe, I am just insane. What about you? Do you have the same question in life?

Elusive Bliss Excerpt Part 1

PROLOGUE

I do not know what they want of me. I am not the one they think I am. Or am I? I’m not sure. But I think they want my life for it.

Who am I? I’m one of those hideous creatures lurking in the night, waiting for a prey to come. I’m not meant to be like this—a bloodsucker. Just an unfortunate night of my life that forced me into this kind of life which I will tell you later.

I’m here to tell a story. I’m a hunter as well as the hunted by unknown enemies waiting to attack. They want me for something I don’t know I have. It runs in the blood, I guess.

I deserve it for I’d been bad. I killed a lot. My own sin is beyond forgiveness.

My name is Rhavelle—Rhavelle Mersine, a five-year-old immortal. So young compared to others I’d met in my twisted life.

I lived in the era where women do not have any right to excel. Women would be praised for being submissive. But that is not the story I am going to tell. I no longer belong to that world now.

I’m not going to tell you the exact date of my birth or any other significant events of my life. They might know that I wrote what had happened to my life and might object to anything I say.

I’m not here to discuss you about my vampire capabilities. I can fly, yes, I can. I’m monstrously strong. I almost have no weakness—except for sunlight, fire, silvers and stakes. Well, that’s a lot, I guess.

What I am about to tell, as my ever unfading memory recalls, is the story of what had happened to me five years ago.

***

CHAPTER ONE — I HAVE BECOME

That night should have been just an ordinary night. In a hurry, I walked to work, knowing I was about to be late. The manager would be angry with me again. I was a singer in a cabaret called Elusive Bliss.

A man suddenly blocked my way, towering over me. Into a dark alley near the cabaret, he dragged me. It all happened so fast that the next thing I knew, he already pinned me to the wall. I tried to scream, wriggling my body free from his grasp, but his cold hand covered my mouth. It was too dark that I couldn’t see his face. Only his eyes. His red glowing eyes.

“Do not scream,” he said. “Do not move.”

His deep voice reverberated inside my brain. I stood there in panic, heart pounding, being held by a stranger. I opened my mouth to scream but I couldn’t.

His eyes were beckoning me. In my head, he chanted, You are mine, you are mine, you are mine, you are mine…

I felt my whole body relaxed. Yes, I thought. Yes, I’m yours…

His hands touched my face. I saw a black mark on his left inner wrist. It was a letter M. I didn’t know what it meant. All I knew was: I’m only his and his alone.

Slowly, he tilted my head, exposing my delicate neck. The gesture was erotic as the cold breeze of the night touched the sensitive flesh of my throat. Then he lowered his head and planted a soft, cold kiss.

I gasped, wide-eyed when I felt a sudden pain. A stab of his fatal fangs. But I didn’t care. I was his and nothing more. I was nothing. Floating into the endless abyss of darkness, into the arms of oblivion, I was becoming nothing but his own. I was nothing.

I could barely open my eyes when I realized that the dream was over. I was dreaming, wasn’t I? I tried to move but I realized I couldn’t. I was sitting on a sidewalk bench, head dropped. I wondered how I got here. I was in the dark alley with that man.

There was pain all over me. My arms, legs, waist, and breast hurt. Even inside my very being ached. Between my legs, I felt excruciating pain, like something was flowing from within me but I was so weak to move to check it. So weak that I couldn’t even move a finger. I could feel my faltering heartbeat—so weak and dying. I was dying. I was lost. I didn’t know what had happened. All I remembered was: I was going to Elusive Bliss and—

He came, a young looking man who pulled my head up to face him and cradled my aching body on his strong shoulder. Then to my dread and astonishment, he bit his wrist and pressed it into my almost dead lips.

“Drink,” he said.

And so I did. I tasted his blood. Why did I do that? What was this man doing to me? I could barely see. I knew he was not the one who did this to me. I drank his blood, not knowing why. Memories—visions of him flooded my head.

His name was Jacen McLendon, a hundred-year-old vampire living in this town. But he had the face of twenty-five-year-old young man. This town was his territory, given by his sire, Lionel. His blood-brothers ruled the other nearby towns.

I awoke from the lucid dream of his life. I could see the deserted street, much clearer than before. The night didn’t seem to bother me. I could smell everything, from the freshly-rained ground to the sweet, blood-stench air. I could even see the minute details of the leaves of the trees across, even the uneven bark of the trunk, covered with moss. It was like I was clearly seeing the world for the very first time.

“W—what happened?” I managed to ask. I tried to get up but the sudden pain in my stomach halted me at once. I gasped.

He lifted me out of the bench, hid me behind the bushes and set me on the ground. The cramping pain on my stomach made me curl on my knees and I bit my lips to suppress a scream. I screamed a silent agonized scream until the pain miraculously subsided. Then my own memories flooded into me. I remembered everything.

I tried to move but I couldn’t. My whole body couldn’t obey me. I felt like a mere spectator of some theatrical play wherein the heroine was being assaulted by the villain. On the wall, the stranger pinned me and raised the hems of the layers of my skirt. Cupping my bottom, he forced his hard shaft into me. I opened my mouth to scream for help but no voice came out. The sharp pain of his assault brought warm tears into my eyes. He tore the front of my bodice exposing the swell of my breast and sank his teeth into it. He drank my blood while his body savored my innocence.

He pounded mercilessly, gasping in my ears, embracing me tightly. His brutal thrust went on and on, violating me. The numbing pain crawled into my whole body. It seemed endless. I wanted to struggle but I couldn’t. I felt ashamed of myself. After his final forceful thrust, my knees gave out. He let me go and let me fall on the filthy ground of the alley.

“Oh, my God,” I said in a hardly audible whisper. Warm tears escaped from my eyes. How could I be deflowered in a dark filthy alley and by some stranger that I couldn’t even recognize?

“Hush now, lady. Everything will fine…” this young man said. He smile reassuringly and removed his black coat. He let me wear it, covering my torn clothing and pulled my arms to wrap around his shoulders and lifted me up. He was so strong that I felt like a paper to him. Then to my astonishment, he took off and we soared up in the air.

“Where are we going? What happened to me?” I asked weakly. “You could fly?”

His gaze was up to the sky. “Sleep and rest well, lady. We have a long journey ahead,” he whispered and my tired eyes obeyed him.

(to be continued…)

Vampires are kind of over-touched but…


I am still obsessed with them. I don’t know. Maybe it’s their fangs. Perhaps I wonder how would it feel if one bite my throat and suck my blood. I know it’s crazy, that’s why I’m writing about it.

It’s insane but I wanted to become a vampire myself. It’s engrossing to know you can be so powerful and seductive too. But also being all alone. The solitude and loneliness that you don’t belong in this world. That you are a predator.

I think I understand them. I understand their need for blood (I don’t like vampires who don’t feed on humans). They are the reflection of the other side of humanity.

It started with Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice then The Vampire Lestat, The Queen of the Damned, Tale of the Body Thief… all Vampire Chronicles including Pandora and Vittorio the Vampire. Basically, I read everything Anne Rice wrote about them. Then I ventured to everything she wrote. I’m a huge fan.

Then there’s Jennifer Armintrout. I became fond of her Blood Ties series. Tanya Huff with her Blood Price and others. LJ Smith of The Vampire Diaries, Charlaine Harris of Sookie Stackhouse novels, and of course, Twilight Saga of Stephenie Meyer. The Dracula of course and Salem’s Lot by Stephen King. And all other vampire novels I read.

I also read other vampire books and encyclopedias like The Vampire Book: The Encyclopedia of the Undead and American Vampires.

After reading everything within my reach, the moved to TV Series and Movies. Especially those that came from the novels I’ve read. Of course Underworld is in my list. I like Selene a lot.

Write your passion, I frequently read it. Yes, I am. I don’t care if it’s been over done. My vampire novels are not entirely the same with the others. Influenced, I guess but not copied. I thank all the authors who did a great job at immortalizing the vampire folklore.

How Writing Became My World

I love reading but only since High School. And it’s because of Harry Potter books. Since then, I started to read widely, from genre to genre and I began collecting books. Only by 2002 I started writing. Poems were my first outlet until after I got bored of it, I decided to try novels. How far fetched it was for me and ambitious too, thinking it was easy.

Damn, it was not. My first attempt was with my best friend. It was a failure. There was nothing out of ordinary in it. It remained unfinished until now.

Then there was this guy, a good friend of mine too, who asked me to help him. He wanted to write a novel inspired by his own love story. But the setting is medieval. He asked me to write the love story while he will take care of the action. It was fun, really, until a minor character in that story sparked my mind.

Then I started writing, creating my own fantasy world. It started as a short story but became a full blown novel. From 2004 to 2006, I wrote it, edited and edited it. Then it inspired 3 more novels. I ‘m revising the second novel now. And so here I am, talking about it.

With this guy I helped, I don’t know if he finished the book because we went to college and never heard of him. But thanks to his ideas, writing became my world.

And now, I’m thinking of posting my unpublished novels here, chapter by chapter.  I would rather hear a feedback than to have it on my bookshelves, only read by few colleagues and friends.