Within the city of Atlanta, Georgia, two criminal organizations struggle for control of territories and markets. The young organization, Silo, hopes to overtake and consume its rival, the organization lead by Mr. C, a name known only by rumor, but backed by carnage. The struggle of the two organizations is slow to start, until Mr. C. finds the means to force a new recruit to work for them, a recruit they don't know is a vampire. The vampire is proficient at first, but even more so when Silo kills Norine, the woman he loves, and nearly kills him. The vampire had only one reason to pace himself, Norine, and without her, he is unrestrained... even Mr. C. finds the vampire can't be held back.
The only things that sparkle during his rampage are blood and broken glass.
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.62(d)|
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By Derick M. M. Lewis
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2015 Derick M. M. Lewis
All rights reserved.
Attempted Restraint – An Undesired Variable
I still remember my first feast. It was as though I had never eaten before, as though I had never known pleasure, or what excitement was and how to hold back. The feast was purely satisfying, delightful in both the physical and mental aspects. And, like a good child, I didn't let my food go to waste. When I finished I felt like the lion in an old cartoon I had seen who had finished eating and was picking his teeth with the bones of his prey. I laughed to myself in thinking of the lion and sat back to enjoy the nostalgia my heavy stomach brought.
I was told our first attack is always sexual; my maker wasn't lying. At the start I didn't know what I wanted to do with her until it happened. It was almost entirely sexual, but nothing like the physical act, just the release felt from it, one great orgasm. I remember the anticipation. Even though it happened quickly I remember it seemed to take forever. My muffling her attempts to cry out only added to the quickening of my heartbeat. The warmth of her body, her smell, the way her clothes and skin of her arms felt as I hugged her to keep her from running. I remember how just before I bit into her neck the roof of my mouth and back of my throat were heated and felt like they were drawn to her. The anticipation of my first meal was excruciating, even more so than I realized the nearer I came to my goal. It was stronger than any craving I had ever felt. The craving for sex was nothing compared to this. As I bit, the taste of her salt exploded in my mouth and when her body reeled from the pain the blood rushed past my teeth and that lovely metallic flavor pervaded my mouth. I let my mouth fill and enjoyed the feeling of the blood coating my teeth and gum and, for a moment, I swear my tongue could sing.
Micro seconds turned into macro seconds and I reveled in every one of them but when time resumed its natural rhythm the rest was nowhere near as romantic. I tore into her as piranha would a kitten. Her intestines were like grandma's spaghetti, and her brain was as tender as flan, but it all somehow tasted far better. If my grandmother were alive she might have killed me for such blasphemy. Every part of her had a new flavor to add to my memory and each one, believe you me, tastes divine. I had never eaten so greedily and, in my entire existence, I had never eaten over 5 pounds in one sitting; but there I was, enjoying what was a 120-pound woman.
When I finished the bones resembled that of the ones excavated in crime shows. There were a few differences however. The remains were still moist with what was once life and the bones were colored with the blood of her meat and the marrow housed inside. The marrow was the only part that I declined to partake of. I didn't feel like working hard to have such a small reward, I was never a fan of shelled dishes anyway. The meal was the best I had ever had before that day, the first feast of my new life. I still don't know where it all goes.
But this is about the word I desired to adhere to: control.
For four years I gorged myself of as much meat as vampirically possible; except, that is, when those working the cases of my leftovers were coming too close for my own comfort. During the latter part of those years I felt as though I was missing something and that my routine was not as pleasurable and exciting as it once was. As time moved on I continued eating whomever I wanted, as often as I had during my first three years, but my mind continued to search for an answer to my lingering feelings of what I can only describe as emptiness.
Sex is my favorite reference for this beginning, so forgive me when I use it to relay my thoughts. I say this because when I was human I felt the same kind of emptiness while I was with a couple of different women, not all mind you. I remember being with each of those women and wondering why I was thrusting, I felt like I had no real reason to be inside of whatever woman I was with at those times. Even though she may have been pleased by my efforts the feeling wasn't mutual, even if my body erupted at the finale. It was hard to understand how what should have been natural and easy, pleasurable and exciting became like breathing, rarely appreciated.
How often do living things think about breathing? I only cared about breathing at times like when I couldn't breathe, when the air was bad and was later fresh, and when I was out of breath. Since becoming what I am I don't care about the quality of my air now; but I remember the feeling and, I hear people talking about how the air in other places is better than in the cities. I remember what it felt like to go without air. I once knew what it felt like to be out of breath.
My meals were as dull as breathing. I ate only because I was used to eating and not because I enjoyed it.
That orgasmic feeling I once craved dwindled to a mere ember from the inferno it once was. I found myself, again, pondering why I was doing what I was doing in the middle of what should have been my own parade. It was a strange feeling and I had to rid myself of it. So I decided to choke myself; I stopped eating in the hopes that I could feel the same sensations an enjoyable meal should bring.
I starved myself for a month. I slept much of the time and when I felt hungry I forced myself to quell the craving, working on sheer will power with no backup plan. After only a few days I felt as though I was going to break but, after while, there were times when the hunger actually felt good. I don't know why I liked the feeling of being hungry. Maybe it was because I hadn't felt hunger in such a long time it actually gave me a new feeling. It also helped that I knew I wasn't going to starve to death.
I was on a no-blood, liquid diet. I had to drink something to keep my body lubricated. No matter what type of being you are, water in almost any form is essential.
While I dieted I realized I loved eating grapes or anything like it including: lychee and muskadines. I found myself playing with these types of foods as I ate them to pass the time. Aside from the urges I had to rip into almost every person I came across, I was feeling quite human. I found I had to carry food at all times so that I could to keep the cravings for blood down. Those grape like foods were to my hunger for human flesh as chewing gum can be to a smoker's nicotine addiction; it gave a nice distraction, but it didn't solve the problem by itself. And believe me when I say the pleasure I get from eating, my usual, is far more than an oral fixation, an addiction, a habit or whatever may be an opposing force to quitting or even cutting back.
The hunger, at times, was gut-wrenching. I endured various withdrawal symptoms for different lengths of time. First my stomach visibly twisted and cramped. Soon after the cramps I suffered headaches that caused me to collapse. My blood boiled and felt to be cutting my veins as it flowed. My skin burned and I felt pricks when there was nothing there. My jaw would sometimes lock when I woke. My mouth would dry and my teeth would ache. My body became weak making it hard to travel, work or do daily activities.
My sleep was tormented with dreams fueled by my hunger. I would dream of landscapes composed of bodies. I dreamt of lying in a bed as women willingly served themselves to my need.
I knew I couldn't stay away from society. I knew that if I was truly going to stay in control of my hunger I had to expose myself to temptation. In the early stages even the smell of a woman, be it her hair, perfume or even makeup, gave me images of seducing her and quickly turning what should have, in her mind, been a liberating encounter into what, in my mind, would have been fine dining. I had to struggle to keep that from happening. If I were to keep myself segregated from human society, I knew that as soon as I reintegrated myself with it I would feast upon every person in my sight whose heart was still beating. A rampage caused by that kind of immersion might have lasted for days, and brought unwanted attention my way. The best way for me to stay in control was to test myself at all times and trust I was strong enough to hold back should my urges surface.
Even though I was sleeping a minimum of 14 hours each time I laid my head down, time seemed to drag on. The third week marked what should have been a coasting period, but I ate more grapes that week than I had the entire time I was trying to change my eating habits. I took time to plan out how I was going to eat once I started eating human again. I decided I would only have one person and afterwards I would go another month without. If I was craving a full meal in the same amount of time as my first attempt, then I would have what I considered a real meal every two weeks or so. If my cravings waited longer than two days then I was going to have to take how long it took for them to start into consideration.
I made it to the end of the month-long trial with no infractions. I will not feign it was easy to have no blood or flesh of either human or animal. Regardless of what I went through, it was time to eat.
I took my time choosing my prey. I kept my instincts in check and, unlike my first victim, I didn't let the urges decide when or who I was going to eat. I found her at a mall; I was very patient in letting her leave and followed her back to her neighborhood. I saw her go in to a house and it seemed no one else lived with her. I parked far away and walked back to watch from the tree line behind her house. I could see in a few windows and through some of the gaps in the curtains of others. When I could tell that she was alone, I made my way to the front door.
The woman answered through the door, which meant she was wary of strangers, maybe anyone for that matter. It also meant I had to strategize.
I told her I was looking for my son and that someone had told me he was seen playing by her house. She opened the door and looked around as if to see if there was another person who might have seen the child. Luckily for me no one was outside for her to question why I stopped at her house or to tell me to ask someone else. She told me she had seen no children that afternoon and apologized for not being any help.
I told her it was alright. My son Ruben ran around in our previous neighborhood and since we just moved in, I wasn't sure he could find his way back home. I added that if she did see a boy dressed in blue jeans and a red, green and black plaid long-sleeve shirt, she could call my cell to let me know. I pulled a receipt from my back pocket and pretended to look for a pen to pass her my number.
After seeing I didn't have a pen the woman stepped into her house just a couple of feet and pulled a pen from a drawer. I kept conversation going by saying I had a habit of carrying a pen and the one time I needed it I didn't have one. Since she left the door open, I stepped just inside keeping my distance to make her feel safe as I continued to speak. The step would also give me reason to look for something to bear down on deeper in the house after she handed me the pen.
As I had hoped, she was not upset that I stepped into the house and didn't feel the need to stop me when I stepped forward to use a table to write on as I wrote a fake number on the receipt.
I turned to give her the number and reminded her that if she saw any boy fitting the description I gave her, she should give me a call. When I reached the door I thanked her again, punched her in the gut, knocking her unconscious and shut the door to the outside world. Since I shut the door slowly I didn't worry about what the neighbors might think if any of them were to have seen me enter the house. My not giving her any chance to scream raised my feeling of security. Closing the blinds and curtains ensured my privacy.
She was an excellent meal with a wonderful aroma about her; my body seemed to warm as soon as I noticed. She was a clean woman, which made me even more thrilled to be having her. As I enjoyed her I could tell that she had a healthy diet because she was not sour to the taste; in fact, she was almost sweet to the tongue that once again, and to my pleasure, was able to sing.
I was surprised I was capable of taking my time with her, despite my appetite from having gone so long without succumbing to the majority of my earlier desires. I satisfied myself in more than one way that evening, the first was my delight in finding such a noteworthy meal and the second was the feeling of knowing I had such a nice place to rest that night. Aside from the bloodstains and the skeleton on the living room floor, it was nearly perfect. The mess I left in the living room was something like a dirty dish in the kitchen to me; it was an eyesore, but I could deal with it. I knew that I could relax at her house after I walked through it finding no traces of another person who resided there, and her dinner preparations for one, I took it as an indication I wouldn't be bothered. It was good to relax after the meal.
I made the house show signs of the woman going to bed to include showering up after dinner. Even though I took my time I still made a messy meal of her, but I don't think there are such things as table manners when eating on the floor. I slept in her room, because it was the only one with a bed, and left in the middle of the night in order to avoid others who may have seen me leaving the house. If someone were to see me in that quaint little neighborhood so late I would be surprised. The neighborhood seemed like the type of place where there was little to no night life.
When I woke from my sleep it was 3:40 in the morning. Since, from the windows and doors, everything outside seemed quiet I made my way out. I went out the front door and made sure it was locked, and then walked to my car. It was a dark night with only a sliver of the moon making its appearance through the eastern tree lines. Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about fingerprints, they matched hers by the time I took my second bite and, I had been careful not to touch anything in pocketing the pen and paper I used to pass the fake number the night before.
My body took longer than I expected to build its hunger to the point where I felt I needed to eat another person. I think that I began to look at people as delicacies as opposed to what I once thought should be my usual meal. The taste regained its ranking, again to be deemed orgasmic and, for as rarely as I would partake of mankind, it would remain so in my mind. The frequency of my human feasting became more and more sparse. I progressed from one month to three months by my fifth year, and the flavor became far more exquisite due to how seldom I chose to hunt. Over the year I also improved my diet in the choice to only pursue women who were in good shape and whose diet seemed to be held to a high standard.
With the furthering of time between meals I needed to find more snacks. I spread my choice of fruits to apples, oranges, kiwi and mangos. I rediscovered vegetables and soups. I made French fries and mashed potatoes. I ate noodles and rice. I made a point to not eat any meats because it would spoil the pleasure of my favorite meal, which was then quarterly.
I immersed myself in my temptations every day. Every day I dealt with the suffering from my hunger. I was proud I could go so long without submitting to my cravings. I was happy with my progress. I was also happy with my condition. I somehow felt lighter yet I weighed the same. I became more relaxed as time went on and within another year the random urges to feast on more than my planned intake subsided and conformed to my plan. I could feel the influx of my desires synchronizing with my plan as the sixth year moved on.
Near the end of the sixth year, I contented myself in my decision to continue this course for as long as I could. I made a personal pact to only maintain or extend the time between tasting human, and would only break this trend if I absolutely had to. I honestly couldn't think of a reason why I would need to break my pact because other foods could fill me and supply energy. But nothing could please me like human meat, and something about the taste of a woman and the taking in of the beauty that lay before me pleased me more than my male meals.
Excerpted from NosFairytale by Derick M. M. Lewis. Copyright © 2015 Derick M. M. Lewis. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
To be honest, I thought it was a little slow going in the beginning. However, there was a shift and I couldn't put it down! Love the take you have on vampire lore and life. Very exciting! Can't wait for more!
Hello. I'm the author of NosFairytale, Derick M. M. Lewis. I noticed there wasn't a description for NosFairytale to view. So, I'll give you the description and sample of the book. Desc: An unconventional Vampire novel, NosFairytale suggests that what we are taught about vampires is wrong. The lore we know is merely a cover up for what vampires really are. They are just like us in appearance and demeanor. They walk in the light as we do. They hide the secrets of their feeding habits from the ones they love as easily as one tells a white lie. Some have only that to hide, but others must hide their motives and aspirations. The bones and belongings of the deceased are discarded, but their thirst for wealth and comfort are on full display in this story. Within the city of Atlanta, Georgia, two criminal organizations struggle for control of territories and markets. The young organization, Silo, hopes to overtake and consume its rival, the organization lead by Mr. C, a name known only by rumor, but backed by carnage. The struggle of the two organizations is slow to start, until Mr. C. finds the means to force a new recruit to work for them, a recruit they don’t know is a vampire. The vampire is proficient at first, but even more so when Silo kills Norine, the woman he loves, and nearly kills him. The vampire had only one reason to pace himself, Norine, and without her, he is unrestrained… even Mr. C. finds the vampire can’t be held back. The only things that sparkle during his rampage are blood and broken glass. Samp: I still remember my first feast. It was as though I had never eaten before, as though I had never known pleasure, or what excitement was and how to hold back. The feast was purely satisfying, delightful in both the physical and mental aspects. And, like a good child, I didn’t let my food go to waste. When I finished I felt like the lion in an old cartoon I had seen who had finished eating and was picking his teeth with the bones of his prey. I laughed to myself in thinking of the lion and sat back to enjoy the nostalgia my heavy stomach brought. I was told our first attack is always sexual; my maker wasn’t lying. At the start I didn’t know what I wanted to do with her until it happened. It was almost entirely sexual, but nothing like the physical act, just the release felt from it, one great orgasm. I remember the anticipation. Even though it happened quickly I remember it seemed to take forever. My muffling her attempts to cry out only added to the quickening of my heartbeat. The warmth of her body, her smell, the way her clothes and skin of her arms felt as I hugged her to keep her from running. I remember how just before I bit into her neck the roof of my mouth and back of my throat were heated and felt like they were drawn to her. The anticipation of my first meal was excruciating, even more so than I realized the nearer I came to my goal. It was stronger than any craving I had ever felt. The craving for sex was nothing compared to this. As I bit, the taste of her salt exploded in my mouth and when her body reeled from the pain the blood rushed past my teeth and that lovely metallic flavor pervaded my mouth. I let my mouth fill and enjoyed the feeling of the blood coating my teeth and gum and, for a moment, I swear my tongue could sing. Understandably, my 5 star rating may not weigh much in your mind, but I hope the description and sample can convince you to read the book for yourself. Follow me on Twitter @derickmmlewis