Name: M. A. Myers
Age: 18
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 162 (I know, a girl admitting she's over 100 pounds! I'm solid and proud of it!!)
Favorite Song: Can't really choose, anything by Godsmack, Nickelback, Fallout Boys, or Disturbed...Also Goo Goo Dolls, Switchfoot or A Perfect Circle...Or MCR...Or Evanescence...Or Atreyu...Or Linkin Park...I'm just going to stop now...
Favorite Books: Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton, Carpathian series by Christine Feehan, Lord of the Fading Lands by C. L. Wilson, ANYTHING BY J. R. WARD!! DARK LOVER, LOVER ETERNAL, the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris, and so many more random books that they don't fit on my bookshelf anymore. Really, I have three stacks as tall as my bed in my room now. The next J.R. Ward and Anita Blake book come out June 2008. I CANNOT FREAKIN' WAIT! (I officially hate the month of June this year. It no longer exists to me...Too much good stuff in one month...)
May 29, 2008
WooHoo! I graduate June 8!! Finally, college! I just wanted you all to know that I've started on the vampire book and will be posting the first chapter after my last day of high school tomorrow!! Be excited. I'm still debating on a short story possibly for Addie and Reine, but they will definitely have some cameos in the new one, just for amusements sake.
I hope you all look forward to it, and everyone enjoy their summer.
May 2, 2008
So, I finally finished it! DoMD is complete! First story I've ever finished, if you believe it or not.
Thank you so much to everyone who supported me and reviewed. I'm currently working on the sequel for Addie and Reine, and another one in that world that will be between a vampire and a woman that will probably include cameos by Reine and Addie just for amusement's sake.
THE POLL IS CLOSED! OUR WINNER WAS TOTALLY SEXY BLACK BEDROOM EYES!
April 24, 2008
I updated DoMD everyone! What, you mean you don't like the twisted plot turn and morbid change of events. Evil cackle. I'm the writer. Get used to it. You will, however, be proud to know that I know how the story ends...And I've written it...I'm just waiting to post it...and I'll be writing a sequel. Not with these same characters, but with ones I'll be putting into the story during my revamp.
I will be totally overhauling this story as soon as I'm done. I'll leave the completed one up as is while I completely redo it. Then I'll post the edited one up all at once so you can all bow at my mastership of sentence structures and creative verb usage. That's right, worship me, I say!
Nah, not really. Just wanted some reviews. And on that note, if you are going to be reviewing, I would really appreciate some constructive criticism. As much as I love to hear how amazing my story is and how I need to update faster (which I just did, this story is technically supposed to be on hiatus but I've been ditching my homework), I want some real critiques so I can make this better. I would actually like to get this published in the real world someday.
Thanks everyone, and go out and enjoy the summer weather!
P.S. I STILL NEED PEOPLE TO VOTE!! I've only got 39!!
April 11, 2008
I NEED PEOPLE TO VOTE! I won't close the poll until I've got at least 50 people...I have 17. VOTE PEOPLE! I live in America! We have democracy! Vote, and I might even update depending on the final decision! Then I can finally start my new story! SO VOTE!
March 28, 2008
I took a suggestion from FM Radio and changed the title of Demon Dreams to Demon of My Dreams! Exciting, I know. I am working on the last chapter for Demon of My Dreams now in bits and pieces when I can find the time. So don't lose hope! I will hopefully have it done by the end of the school year depending on how needy my yearbook staff is...But I love 'em.
AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED FOR ME!! I LOVE YOU ALL FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT!!
March 23, 2008
Look, I updated! Yeah, I'm on Spring Break and decided to get some work done. I have the ending for Demon Dreams planned, and I know what's going to happen, I just need to find the time to sit down and write it. I'll probably be posting some short stories/one shots things and maybe some of my poems soon if anyone cares to peruse when they get up here.
January 16, 2008
So, I'm currently on hiatus until further notice. Sudden, I know, but I have a lot to deal with between preparing for college, school and working. I'm still writing, but only paragraphs here or there, so it will be a while before I will update. Cheers, everyone!
STORIES
Demon of My Dreams COMPLETE but being REVISED!
Well, this is about a chubby bookworm, english genius, and artistic master all rolled into one: Adara Rennings. Then there's the tall, pierced, muscle bound, and demonic: Vail Arden. Addie's life is altered unchangeably after Vail shows up one night, claiming her as his. He also says he was sent to earth by Satan to stop a human who will end it all. Her. Now he'll have to choose between his impossible but real mate and the fate of the world. Cliche, but always oh so fun.
Excerpt for Demon of My Dreams
Outside, she decided once and for all that the campus was absolutely creepy at midnight. The streetlights above the sidewalks only seemed to light a small pool of ground beneath them that left the area between even darker. It usually wouldn’t bother her, but there was something about the full moon and the eerie stillness in the air that seemed wrong.
She was by the men’s dorm rooms on her way to the Creative Arts building when she saw a figure walking towards her from the direction of the front gates leading onto campus. It was an impossibly tall, massively broad shouldered figure, even with the fast closing distance separating them. It seemed to fade in and out of the moonlit darkness with the lights.
As if his size wasn’t scary enough at twelve thirty at night to a lone woman, as he got closer she could see that he seemed to blend in with the night because he was wearing all black. Even his hair was black and fell in loose waves so that it just brushed his shoulders. It wasn’t until he was at the next streetlight away that she saw the glint of silver necklaces, piercings, bracelets and chains.
All too soon he stood in front of her. She hadn’t even realized she had stopped to watch his fluid, predatorial walk to her. This was a man who knew what he was.
The tips of black boots were visible from under the tattered ends of black bondage jeans with silver chains running up and down and across. It was amazing how silent he was, almost inhumanly silent.
He wore a tight--and when she said tight, she meant so-absurdly-tight-she-didn't-know-how-moving-a-single-finger-didn't-rip-the-thing tight--solid black shirt that more than showed off his flawless body. She was sure his muscle would have been weightlifter huge on any other man, but on his tall frame, it was lithe perfection.
Only one thought came to mind when faced with all of this masculine beauty: He had to model for her.
Perfectly proportioned from head to foot, lightly toned with artfully sculpted features and an exotic, slightly dangerous air. He was her dream. She could see the ranges of lighting, poses and backgrounds already. She had always had a secret fetish for tall, dark and gothic. Almost all of her personal work could attest for that.
But not even the thought of all of this perfection at her artistic command could distract her from the silver. Silver and black bracelets on each wrist, a silver chain link necklace with some archaic symbol hanging from it, and silver and black piercings down the side of each ear. He had his eyebrow pierced twice with two silver hoops.
Which brought her to the eyes. His eyes were the most exotic part about him, if you could believe it. They were the darkest black, almost purple, she had ever seen, and they looked even darker against his deliciously tanned skin. They had to be colored contacts. She fidgeted slightly as said eyes narrowed dangerously.
He was about three feet in front of her and the top of her head just reached his shoulder. He had to be at least 6‘7“, 6‘8“. Is that natural?
He began moving closer and she craned her head back to keep eye contact. His eyes were doing a funny thing, almost like the purple black of his irises were bleeding into the whites of his eyes. She shook her head. She really needed to get more sleep.
He kept coming closer and closer and she uneasily took a step back. She remembered her first thoughts when she saw him, and all of the news briefs and newspaper articles of young college women disappearing from campus spun through her head. If he decided to do anything, she would be helpless to stop a man his size. She had a feeling all of those muscles weren’t just for show.
“C-Can I help you?” Great, let the big scary man know you’re afraid of him.
He looked down at her, and her breath caught in her throat. His irises had been doing something funny. His eyes were solid purple black now. There was no white left.
His nose twitched, almost as if scenting the air. He made a low, guttural growl deep in his throat. It was in no way a human sound.
She froze, not wanting to make any sudden movements to startle the obviously unbalanced man…thing. She stared wide eyed at his face as he approached her and stopped mere inches away. She could feel an unnatural heat radiating from his body. His eyes closed as he seemed to sniff the air again. He made a slow circle around her, never quite touching her, still making that low growl deep in his chest that seemed to vibrate his whole body. For some strange reason, she wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. Him not touching her. Wasn’t it a good thing the psycho hadn’t made a move to grab her, whip out some obscenely huge knife and filet her like a fish? Or, with the way he was growling, grow three inch claws and rip her to shreds? She was an imaginative girl, and the scenarios just kept building.
She was surprised at how calm she was over her impending death.
He came full circle again and stopped facing her. He still hadn’t touched her.
Neither of them moved as they just stood looking at each other. His eyes hadn’t changed from the solid black. She met them squarely with her own brown ones. She would at least die with a little pride. Until he actually moved to do something. Then she would scream and beg.
He suddenly smiled--if you could call a feral flash of teeth a smile. Very white, rather sharp looking teeth. Combined with the eyes and animalistic growling, it made a very imposing picture. She was a little disappointed though. She had expected fangs.
He suddenly made a gravelly growl that rolled through his chest. It took her a frightened moment to realize he wasn’t getting ready to pounce on her; he was laughing. Not that she was going to ask the huge scary man, but what was so funny?
He stopped abruptly and looked down at her again with his dark eyes. Whoa. Can you say bi-polar?
“Mine.” Many emotions flickered across his face with that one word. Relief, happiness, anger, confusion, regret…They moved so fast from one to the next that she couldn’t be sure if that was really what they had been.
She had to work past the sultry, gravelly deep cadence of his voice to register the real meaning of the word…And now she was pissed.
What the hell? What’s ‘mine’ supposed to mean? Was he some sort of illiterate? He couldn’t form a coherent sentence? And did she look like some freakin’ cow he could claim as his property? “Oh, and that fat one with the brown hair is called Addie. Worth a good dollar, she is.” WTF?
He leaned down and looked hard into her eyes. His face was a blank mask once again, but the intensity in his eyes was a little scary.
“It means exactly what I say. You. Are. Mine.”
My Dark Prince
Technically the sequel to DoMD but you don't need to read that first to understand it. A high powered business woman, Camille, is the Chosen of the vampire Rohnihn, or King, Tordin. But he's insane. It's more fun that way.
She was technically claimed by him as a child, but their compound was attacked by Hunters when she was young, and he was imprisoned in a moment of weakness, while she was thrown into the Hunter's recovery program. In other words, she was brainwashed of everything supernatural, and grew up as a human out of touch with all the things that go bump in the night to adopted Hunter parents.
One night she comes home to a bloody trail into her apartment, a man on the end sporting fangs and claws and claiming that he's a vampire and her mate. As much as she wants to say he's insane, she's been having this dream of a madman locked somewhere far away. And vampires have always been a secret obsession for her...
Excerpt for My Dark Prince
Darkness. Always darkness. He should be able to see it all. See all around. There was no light to reflect. Even the barest candle flame would have allowed sight, some reprieve from the emptiness. But he knew he was deep underground, probably some obscure mountain range in some God forsaken third world country halfway across the world from his home. No one would ever hear him scream.
Sometimes he screamed, yelled, roared, just to remember that he breathed. That he hadn't faded away into the blackness.
He whirled around, slamming a fist into the rough stone wall at his back. His hands were already crushed, swollen and cut from years of doing that exact thing. He knew exactly how large the cell was, ten footsteps wide, twelve deep. Endlessly pacing, like a confined animal in a cage.
He was an animal. Every last bit of what little humanity he had stripped by beatings and blackness. Separation from his Chosen. Forbidden his Questing.
He bit his forearm, sucking down the bitter taste of his own blood. Both arms were ripped raw from his own fangs as he tried to get what little nourishment he could. His fangs were always fully extended anymore, another testament to how far gone to his base instincts he was. Even the rats and mice had learned to avoid his corner of hell. The dead carcasses of the animals the Hunters threw him kept him alive. Barely. The rodents had been little more than a snack, before they left.
He could only imagine what his eyes looked like. He hoped they haunted the Hunters who held him. He hoped his eerie cries at all hours of the day and night were a constant reminder of what he could, and would, do. Once he was free.
The Hunters came down every few days, from what he could tell. He didn't really know. There was no way to gage the passage of time. Minutes, hours, days, years...it all blurred together in a line of torture, starvation, blackness, and insanity. The only connection to the changing years he had were draining moments in sleep when he sought out his Chosen. Anymore, he could only connect when they were both resting, and her subconscious mind was easier to reach. The tenuous bond they had established when she was young was fading.
It was enough, though, for him to watch snippets of her life as she grew and learned. Became more beautiful every day. She was a kind, caring woman. She was also lonely, and she hated her job. Lonely because she was missing their connection, discontent because she was meant for his care. She was his only source of hope, of light in this hell.
When she had dated in college, losing her body to a careless mortal man, he had been out of his mind with rage. He had actually splintered the original oaken door in his bid for freedom to rip out the throat of the male who had then went on to toss her away like he couldn't see the beauty that she held. Hunters had stormed the room at his attack. He had taken down six before they managed to sedate him. Nearly a dozen had held him down as they chained him. They replaced the door with a new one, twice as thick.
That interrogation session had been the worst. They didn't understand his newfound rage. He would never break to their demands. Would never give them the information they sought on the whereabouts of his people.
He had lost so many years with is Chosen. So many years of love and protection he could never give her. Now all he had were moments of decaying sanity in sleep, whispered words of devotion, a ghostly touch from his cold earthen cell thousands of miles away. He had been here since...
He roared into the blackness, battering himself against the thick wood of the invisible door. They had attacked his home, slaughtered his family, taken his Chosen, just a child.
What they had did to her.
It was unheard of for one of his kind to bond to a child so young. It wasn't a real Questing, just the knowledge that she was his. When his father had been slaughtered in the fight, he had been weakened and disoriented by the power shift. The knowledge and power that came with being the Rohnihn, the king of his kind, had shifted to him. He was connected to every vampire now. Knew the area they resided in, how far gone to their beasts they were. How much they needed their king for balance and hope. The Hunters had taken him, planning on just that disorientation to overpower him.
And it had worked.
He threw himself against wood and stone, lost to the rage and hate inside. He kept up the abusive pounding, opening old and new wounds alike until he slipped in his own blood onto the dirty floor. He lay panting there in a puddle of his own blood. He almost laughed. Hate was not a strong enough word for the ceaseless pit of emotion seething inside at the thought of the Hunters. He could not count the number of times he had been in this exact same spot. Insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. He laughed.
He wasn't sane. For once that thought made him smile, a vicious baring of fangs. In insanity the ways to kill his tormentors—slowly, painfully, savagely—just grew. The more he lost, the more lost they were. It was a sick circle he loved.
He didn't move, just closed his eyes to try for some much needed rest. Without fresh blood to heal his wounds he had been living more than half dead. Pain was a constant in every waking moment. Only in sleep could he seek out his female.
He heard the footsteps first. Caught the scent of the Hunters. Salty sweat and a tang of fear. They always came with fear. And hate. His rage boiled all over again, never far from the surface. Just as he rose to batter at the door all over again he felt the pain. Pain that dropped him to his knees, clutching at his head. Pain and fear.
Not his pain. This was so much worse.
His female. Someone dared touch his Chosen in anger. Fear. She was alone, afraid. She needed him.
He bared his fangs, claws harder than diamonds unsheathing from his fingertips. He didn't charge the door as usual when they came. He stood silent in the corner, a rare moment of lucid calculation.
His Chosen needed him.
The Hunters were just outside his cell door. Light that usually blinded him shining through the grating, searching for him. He kept to the corner, hidden until they entered. There were commands issued, tranq guns clicked, men lined up to storm the cell. The door creaked open.
They had always kept him drugged, hallucinating and out of touch. He had stopped eating the poisoned carcasses. They had tried to die him down at first, but they couldn't keep him in silver because of the corrosion on his body, and he simply ripped through anything less.
He smiled as they entered. Smiled as he ripped the throat out of the first one. Kept smiling as they screamed. Years of denied loathing, rage, injustice were released. His denied Questing took hold. Insanity at it's best. Sanity at it's clearest.
His Chosen needed him. He would find her.
98 percent of teenagers do or have tried smoking pot. If you're one of the 2 percent who hasn't, copy & paste this into your profile
92 percent of American teens would die if Ambercrombie and Fitch told them it was uncool to breathe. Copy this in your profile if you would be the 8 percent that would be laughing your ass off.
Dream big, do bigger, and love greater than all.
The pen is mightier than the sword--that's why pens break, and swords are ruined. You can always buy a new pen. But a good sword, in this day and age? Good luck. You can't fix ruined.
Imagination is not merely the talent of some, it is the heart of us all.
If you've ever had a mad laughing fit for no reason, copy and paste this into your profile.
Ninety-five percent of teenagers are concerned about being popular. If you are one of the five percent who aren't, copy this and put it in your profile.
If you've ever asked a really stupid, obvious question, copy and paste this one in your profile.
If your profile is long, copy and paste this on it to make it even longer.
If you think those stupid kids should just give the rabbit the freakin' Trix, copy this into your profile.
If you have ever tripped where there is a ‘watch your step’ sign, copy this into your profile.
If you have ever pushed a door when it says pull, copy this into your profile.
AV is Addicted to Vampires. If you have this, copy this into your profile.
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Poll: FOR DEMON DREAMS: What do you think is the sexiest thing about Vail? Vote Now!
