I didn’t enter any blog contests…just an orgy last week. I figured that I’d write fictiously today, while home. And in honor of the upcoming holiday and my soon book release, I felt like typing. This little tidbit below is something that I wrote long ago it’s about vampires and sort of a spinoff from my current novel, The Virus Within. I stumbled upon it and figured if it wasn’t going to be in the R.S. Lewis spotlight as a book in the future, I could at least give it justice in the Home of the Drunken Insomniac.
So here it goes a snippet of “”The Other Side of Midnight””
I was laying in the dark on the floor. It was damp, cold and I could hear the screams of other poor hapless souls in the distance. I had been in this place for what seemed like an eternity. From my guess, it was some kind of basement turned dungeon. It was Hell from what I could see. The smell was putrid and thick as it polluted my nostrils. Rats nibbled on what was left of my nude body.
My arms and legs felt numb covered in cuts and bite marks. Infection was the least of my worries. I had been tortured beyond reality and my mind was slowly slipping into an abyss of insanity. My eyes had seen things that would certainly make one want to rip them right out. I was surrounded by monstrous people incapable of compassion that possessed no boundaries natural or supernatural. They were stronger than any other beings I had witnessed on this earth. I wanted release so much that I was praying for death but I was too unfortunate.
My captor who went by the name of Ramona was the Marilyn Manson of horror. She was so seductive yet so deadly that she would kill even her her own consorts had they defied her. I hated the bitch yet I was her submissive prisoner. At this point, I would be useless to the outside world if I ever escaped captivity. There wasn’t much left of me, if anything at all. I hated this place.
God, please help me. There was death all around me yet it had passed over me to save me for Ramona. There were poor souls crying to be let go. Dumbasses. The last thing I remember on the outside of these walls was the frightening sight of torn bodies and limbs. People strung up in chains. Some were hung upside down and others decapitated. I had witnessed one poor guy surrounded by those creatures. They were cutting him with razor blazes and licking the bleeding wounds. It was useless but he yelled out and tried to appeal to their kind nature.
“”PLEASE! LET ME GO! PLEASE, I HAVE A FAMILY! DON’T DO THIS!””
I heard one of them reply, “”Better for us.””
This place of horrors was sickening. Something out of a nightmare.
I hadn’t the slightest clue of how long I had been down here. I couldn’t even remember how I got here. One minute I was walking toward my house from my parked car and the next I was in the dark screaming for my life while it was being drained for me. I missed my life, my friends, my cat and my shitty job. I’d give the last remnants of my life to get them all back.
My dreams intermingled with reality since being trapped here. Oddly I wasn’t much different before. I was trapped in my own self before. You see I was born with a fatal disease and order to be saved I was subjected to heinous treatments by doctors trying to save me. In the end I acquired a terrible heart murmur, tumors on my brain and the ability to move things with my mind. Telepathy they called it. It was my gift and curse. I wasn’t some comic book hero though because I couldn’t control it. It only happened when I was extremly pissed, sad or horny. If I lost it, things went flying. If I could harness the goddam thing, shit then I’d be free by now. That bitch would never stand a chance.
And her, Ramona…she would come in after days gone by. She would press her body onto mine. I felt violated and wanted no part in it yet it made me feel more wanted than I ever had in my entire life. Some nights she placed her cold lips onto mine and kissed me. She would then place her mouth onto my breasts, kissing and sucking. It felt mesmerizing and so horrid. I could still feel her kiss hours after her departure. There was always bloodshed during her visits. It was what she craved from me. She would swallow mouthfuls of my own blood into her mouth. Laughing and mocking me once she was done.
A few nights ago, I was sleep in the same spot on the floor when she came to me. A wide grin crossed her face as she revealed her long fangs. She quickly placed her mouth to my arm, biting into it. I cried out weakly but it was of no use. She removed her mouth from my weak, heavy arms and placed her lips to my breast. Her tongue caressed my nipples but was followed by a sharp sting from the stab of her fangs. The feeling of her draining me was tantalizing and sickening all at the same time. However, I must admit I felt euphoric when she tasted me, so close to death. Her tongue across my nipple, her teeth deep inside of me as she continued to drink from me while tangling her fingers in my hair. I could hear her moans harmonizing with my own. God I felt so helpless. She was careful not to take too much. Once she finished, she stood over me and thanked me for the rush.
Each and everytime she had drained me was so that she could sample my gifts as her own. It made her more powerful and more to fear. It’s the only reason I am alive. If she could find a way to keep them without the likes of me alive, then I would have been dead the minute she first tasted me. Needless to say, she knew how to control my gifts better than I could. I do know that I could use it on them. Whatever they were, monsters or vampires, I knew that they weren’t alive. And those were just the things I could move, lifeless objects. If I could just control this. But like anything it takes concetration. All I needed to do was concentrate but it was impossible when you hear people dying all around you. But trust in this the next time she would come into my chamber, I’d be ready.
Suddenly, I heard something outside my door, followed by lights. My mental journal interrupted by visiters. My chamber door opened. I shielded my eyes from the aritficial light outside. I know it is her because no one else comes to me. She wouldn’t allow it. A part of me lusts for her and the other wants to fight for my life. I must be strong if I am ever going to survive.
I hear footsteps…
This is my chance…
10/22/2007
R.S. Lewis
Drunken Insomniac Writer 