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Wednesday, 29 October 2014
TITLE: My Life Beyond the Grave: The Untold
Story of Vlad Dracula (A Famous Monster Memoir)
AUTHOR: Kai Kiriyama
GENRE: Fiction - Memoir
From Kai: MY LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE is a
project dear to my heart, a pet project that combines my love of vampire
mythology and my love of macabre history. Dracula has always held me in thrall,
ever since I was first introduced to him when I was 10 or so. (And it was, I must admit, through Dracula
Dead and Loving It that I really fell in love with him.) This book represents a
love affair that I’ve had with Dracula ever since. I’ve taken history and given
it a new life in this book. This is my coming of age Dracula story, a look at
the history and an examination of a man who must forever live with the sins he
committed as a human. I hope that this book will rekindle your love for
Dracula, and for vampires. Thank you for checking me out.
And of course, a HUGE thank you to my
lovely, gracious, wonderful hosts here.
I couldn’t do this without your support. Thank you. xx
-Kai Kiriyama
--
SYNOPSIS:
"I
have lived a life worth speaking about, and have seen things that would leave a
modern man weeping in fear. I have outlived my entire family and have lived to
see a time that one could not think possible. I have traveled the globe, and I
have spread an empire greater than anything that I could have ever accomplished
in my mortal life.
I am here to speak of these accomplishments, to tell my story for once without the smoke and mirrors of the silver screen, or the whispers in the dark of a pub where it’s better that you pretend you don’t notice the regal, pale man in the corner who hasn’t touched his drink. I don’t expect you to believe everything that I say here in these pages, but this is my truth as I know it to be.
My name is Vlad Tepes Dracul, and I am here to tell you my story."
I am here to speak of these accomplishments, to tell my story for once without the smoke and mirrors of the silver screen, or the whispers in the dark of a pub where it’s better that you pretend you don’t notice the regal, pale man in the corner who hasn’t touched his drink. I don’t expect you to believe everything that I say here in these pages, but this is my truth as I know it to be.
My name is Vlad Tepes Dracul, and I am here to tell you my story."
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR:
Kai
Kiriyama is a Canadian Asgardian geek with an affinity for Pokemon and
Shakespeare. Accomplished at divination
through crystals, pendulum, tea leaf reading and palmistry, Kai oftentimes
frightens herself (and her clients!) with the accuracy of what she predicts.
Convinced that both her to-read and to-write piles will never be completed, Kai
tries not to worry too much about it. Oftentimes, you can find her hanging
around on twitter and dispensing dubious advice through her blog.
WEBSITE:
www.theraggedyauthor.com
TWITTER:
http://www.twitter.com/raggedyauthor
TUMBLR:
www.theraggedyauthor.tumblr.com
YOUTUBE:
www.youtube.com/thekiriyamaheir
ADD ON GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23303143-my-life-beyond-the-grave
Buy on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/483291
Buy for Kindle on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OC2X93M
Buy on kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/my-life-beyond-the-grave-the-untold-story-of-vlad-dracula
Read another excerpt on Wattpad: http://www.wattpad.com/story/25029410-my-life-beyond-the-grave-the-untold-story-of-vlad
EXCERPT:
MORTAL DEATH
As with all
men, even I had to die.
According to
the history books, and yes, I am narcissistic enough that I went back and
checked the facts to see what people have been led to believe about me, I was
killed in a skirmish somewhere that no one is quite certain of, and that the
exact date of my death is up for debate.
They also say
that the men who killed me took my head back to Constantinople. Obviously that
is a damn lie. Immortal though I am,
removing my head will kill me permanently. That was one of the first things
that I was taught when I awoke as a vampire for the first time. Furthermore, I didn't die by the road in a
skirmish when they say that I did. There's a reason that the history books have
no accurate date for my death. Did you ever think to question why?
The scholars
believe in part that it was to keep morale up, that the men fighting with me
during my short third reign didn't want to admit that I was dead, and that they
fought hard to keep my death a secret, and to keep my remains from being taken
to Constantinople.
That was not
true. Well, it was partly true, but my head was not removed from my body.
The person who
was killed and thought to be me was one of my doubles. I had hired three men to
pretend to be me. They were given explicit instructions and were made up to
resemble me ever more closely than they already did.
My wife was
not aware of this fact, however, and I made sure that she believed me to be
dead when the reports reached her ears. As soon as that part of the ruse was
completed, I never saw my wife again.
It pains me to
this day that I was never able to live a life with her, and I don't know if I
was ever a father, or if she remarried. I chose to leave that part of me behind
when I became the thing that I am now, and I have never even considered the
thought of finding a woman to bring into this new life of mine. I wouldn't wish
this on anyone who I cared about. It isn't as glamorous as the movies make it
seem.
My death as a
mortal happened at the end of October. It was when my contract was set to
expire, and when my reign as Prince Dracul would end forever. I made the deal
when I was in prison and feverish and I don't remember what the terms were, I
was convinced that I was talking to myself the whole time, but here I am.
The only regret
that I have is that I was not given more time.
I suppose
that, looking back on it, I would have been killed sooner than I would have
liked had I not been given over to the unlife I live now.
I was just
beginning to enjoy being Prince again. The old bloodlust returned, the fierce
pride in my kingdom, the desire to make it better. I am, after all, my father's
son.
I was not
ready to go, and two months into my final reign and I was forced to give it all
up, instead of using my powers to rule as an immortal Prince and put and end to
the fighting once and for all. Alas, I was unwelcome in my homeland once the
deed was completed.
So I allowed
my death to be exaggerated and my doubles were killed in different skirmishes.
My "head" was brought to Constantinople when my third and final
double was killed and it solidified the end of Vlad Dracul.
I was,
however, already dead by the time this was happening. I died on the night of
October 31 and was reborn in the early hours of November 1 in the year of 1476.
My mortal
death was one that was not greeted by a funeral. Neither deaths that I suffered
through were particularly peaceful or celebrated in the way that you would want
it to be. The men who were my doubles were treated poorly, hastily buried when
it was realized that they were not truly me, and spit upon and cursed for their
treachery and lies. My first two doubles were left in shallow, unmarked graves
where they fell. My men in both skirmishes were beaten back as the Ottoman
forces grew more determined to take the body of Vlad Dracul back to their
leaders.
When it was
discovered that I had tricked them, the Ottoman forces were in such a rage that
stories of their anger spread across the country like wildfire. I had tricked
them, twice, and sent them into a howling fit. I had made them a laughingstock
across the country and word of their stupidity passed the lips of everyone who
had once feared them. This would be the quiet legacy of mine that would colour
the stories of my brutality. Vlad Tepes was as clever as he was brutal, and not
even the Turks were safe from my trickery.
I watched
these things happen from a distance, unable to help, unable to interfere lest I
truly be caught and killed. I was already living on borrowed time, and I had so
much to do to set my affairs in order before I was to be whisked away from my
mortal life and taken into the clutches of the dark of night as a vampire.
I certainly
did not get everything done that I had wanted to and the creature who had
offered me immortality came to collect his due right on schedule.
I fought
against him for a week.
"Mortal
one, it is time," he said the first night he found me. I was going over
military strategies for the next leg of the fighting that I was about to lead.
"I cannot
come with you right now," I argued. "We are winning for the first
time in weeks, and I am desperate to take this next leg of the journey. What is
one more night without me when there are hundreds of men, my own and Ottoman
alike, upon whom you may feed?"
"You
drive a hard bargain, little Mortal, but I will allow it."
I argued with
him this way for a week. Always one last thing to do. One last leg of the battle, one last
conquest, one last woman. One more night, master, please, I beg you.
I was taken in
the night, without warning. I had no time to argue with him when he had made up
his mind that I had to be stopped. At this time, my "head" was just
arriving in Constantinople, and I hadn't seen my men that day. As far as they
knew, I had been killed on the battlefield, when really I had been in a small
hovel, hiding and trying not to let my men know that I had not been killed. My
master came upon me that night as soon as there was no one around. I was
reading by candlelight, waiting for my men to arrive with reports. I had two
men I trusted with the plan of my doubles, and they had been keeping me abreast
of all the happenings of the war in my absence. My master arrived and startled
me.
"You are
not who I was expecting," I told him, brusquely.
"Your men
believe you dead."
"Not all,"
I snapped. "I have men who know the truth."
"And I
have stepped in and bent their minds. They now know you are dead, there is no
more time to stall."
Whatever he
did to me, I could not argue. He was upon me in a flash. I could not scream, I
could not fight back, I had lost control of my body and my mind and I fell into
stunned silence as he fell upon me with the swiftness of a wolf. I sat there,
reeling from the wounds inflicted upon me that would grant me my immortality; I
felt that I had not accomplished enough. I was forty-five years old when I
died. I was alone, in a hovel, left to die as my blood seeped out from two
delicate holes in my neck. I was left to suffer through the slowing of my
heart; with nothing to keep me company except the memories of life only half
lived. I hoped that I would see my brothers soon, that I would join them in
death to be welcomed into their embrace in the afterlife, but that was not
true. I forgot that, as my life drained away and my breathing became shallow
and laboured, that I would not be joining them. Not yet.
I still had a
contract that needed to be fulfilled.
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