""Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates-the darkest and most evil of thoughts.""
-Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat

Showing posts with label Efi Loo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Efi Loo. Show all posts

Monday, February 6, 2012

Dear Diary - Monday, February 6, 2012

Yesterday, while most humans were eating, drinking and watching men chase each other up and down some field surrounded by shouting and screaming people, I was busy discovering I’m not alone in the world of cat vamps.  

Photo courtesy of Carole Gill
This photo was sent to me by author, Carole Gill, and I wanted to share it with you.  I wonder where I can get a pair of wings like that!
Life has been a little cat nip crazy lately.  I helped T.K. Millin finish and submit their short story for consideration in Angelic Knight Press'  third Satan’s Toybox Anthology, Terrifying Teddies.  It was a scary good time putting paw to paper!
Then there’s been Flash Fiction Fridays, cat napping while T.K. writes her blog, The Unknown Author (I give her space to write that on her own, makes her feel important!), and outlining my next big adventure, a middle-grade novel that combines historical fiction with science fiction!  (Okay, it’s really T.K. Millin’s project, but I know I’ll have a chance to add my four paws worth)  
I hope you have a killer week and don’t forget to stop by again on Friday to sink your teeth into some scary good flash fiction.  Vamplit Publishing's  theme this week is Antique Scientific Oddities. 
  
Efi Loo, The Cat Vamp







Monday, December 12, 2011

Dear Diary - Monday, December 12, 2011








Being a feline ghost writer isn’t easy when the person you write for doesn’t spend much time sitting down to transcribe your wonderful musings.
I know T.K. Millin has just as much passion for being an advocate for unwanted animals as she does for being a writer and that it’s all for a good cause, but if she expects me to continue to meow out great stories, she is going to have to bring on more cat nip and tuna.
I thought I would share some photos with you of why my Friday Flashes haven’t been popping up.  I have to say I am happy she found them all homes of their own, because this one is taken. Okay, I know I have to share it with those other four legged creatures of the night that steal all my tuna when I'm not looking, but at least I am the one and only Cat Vamp!  


We have new homes!  I'm Dora on the left and I'm Simba on the right!


My new name is Savannah and I even got to keep the mouse!

I'm Mika!

Feeling festive I dressed up the other day to show one of my passions other than writing . . . Christmas.
Meowwy Christmas!


I want to thank all my friends who follow me and give me such great support in my writing and to let you know I can’t wait for next year, because I have something big on the horizon!   I promised not to let the cat out of the bag just yet, so you’ll have to stay tuned till next year!

Merry Christmas everyone and I wish you a joyous holiday with family and friends and I can't wait for next year to see what new and exciting stories are born!

Fangfully yours,

Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp


Friday, September 16, 2011

Tales from the Mine














What Lurks Below


What appeared to be room enough for twenty more researchers quickly became a suffocating entombment to Professor Neudahl when their hired guide closed the steel door of the hundred year old elevator shaft and the only light of day disappeared as they descended. 

She turned and gripped the only loose material she could gather from the form fitting shirt of her assistant, Daniel, and closed her eyes as tight as shutters. 

She held back the urge to scream as the infinite darkness became filled with the screeching sound of metal meeting rock, because if there was one thing Professor Neudahl hated more than descending over two thousand feet into the earth it was admitting to her student’s her fear of the dark.

The guide unlatched the safety bar and slid the door to the left. “Watch ya step folks.” He stepped out first into the damp and odorless void, letting the three researchers exit one at a time.

“It doesn’t look so bad down here.” Professor Neudahl said, relieved to see the mine brightly lit.

The guide pointed to the right and then the left. “When the excavations started about a year ago they started installing lights, but they never got to finish." 


“Why’s that?”  Daniel asked.

The guide stepped back into the elevator, smiled and said, “Don't really know. Maybe the dark got to them.”  He pulled down the safety bar.

“You’re leaving!” Professor Neudahl said.

“For now. Don't worry, I'll be coming back." He slammed the door and the elevator started its screeching ascend.
    
           ^^^^^

The research team decided to separate to gather samples of the rare rocks, minerals and crystals the mine was famous for keeping buried.  

“Quickly, over here, I’ve found something!” One of the interns shouted.

Professor Neudahl shouted back, “Patricia, where are you?” Their echoes becoming one.

The intern’s screams suddenly filled every opened crevice, drowning out the Professor’s pleads to find her. Professor Neudahl waited for her echoes to silence before shouting out again. “Daniel! Greg!”

What the hell is going on?

She turned on the light to her helmet, grabbed two glow sticks and slowly made her way to where the end of the spot lights met the beginning of utter darkness. 

Far in the distance, she could hear footsteps approaching, but her helmet's light only bounced off the blackened emptiness. She tossed both glow sticks into the dark, casting a shadow against the dimly lit figure. 

“Daniel . . . Greg . . . is that you?”

The only response was shallow breathing from the figure and echoing screams from Daniel and Greg from somewhere in the darkness.

“Oh my God, we’re not alone down here!”  
       
The faster Professor Neudahl ran the faster each spot light went out one by one. Before the last one turned off she spotted a small opening and darted inside to hide. Afraid to look, she stood listening to her frantic breathing. 

I need to calm down.

She took her helmet off and shined the dim light around. There were three chairs, two wooden crates and a withered table with a framed picture in the middle. She picked up the faded black and white photo and screamed in horror when she saw the handwritten date of a hundred years ago and their hired guide, looking just like he did today.

The Coal Miner's Ghost

Hank hated having to deal with the drifters who wandered through town looking for work. They never stayed long enough to see the job done and then he had to start all over again.

But he felt differently about the new guy he hired named William. Even though the rest of the men thought he was strange and gave him the nickname, Willie the loner, Hank thought him to be someone who seemed they were going to stick around for a while.   

Today began the same as every other day for William. He arose at four in the morning, graciously accepted a cold cup of coffee and a stale cheese sandwich from his boarder before heading out to the coal mines to begin his fourteen hour shift. The only hope he had was the promise of tomorrow being the same.

The rail car descended its way deeper and deeper into the mine, the air becoming denser and colder as the men found other things to think about besides the harshness of their reality. 

“Hey Willie, why you’s still hanging around here?” Delbert, one of the miners, shouted over the screeching echoes.

Willie shrugged, keeping his distance from the men.

Each man stepped out of the rail car and headed in opposite directions to spend the next fourteen hours pounding and grinding and digging their way to their next meal, and if they were lucky, a cold beer and a smoke.

Needing a break, Delbert reached into his pocket and pulled out the small remnants of a smoke and a match. He flicked his nail across the match and nothing happened. He flicked it again and this time he heard and felt someone’s breath blow across his face.

“Who’s there? Are you’s too afraid to show yourself?”  

“You are the one who should be afraid.” Willie stepped out of the darkness, "For forty years I’ve been protecting coal miners from a fool like you who killed me and thirty other men. But today, only one will have to die.”

Today began the same as every other day for William. The only hope he had was the promise of tomorrow being the same.


           ^^^^^
Total word count: 912  
What Lurks Below - 551
The Coal Miner's Ghost - 361

Friday, September 9, 2011

The Knight of Logan Hollow

                           by T.K.Millin
Death is but a patient slumber . . . 
Summer of 1012 . . . Scotland

Through the cast of the full moon he saw the ripples of her gold spun tresses flowing delicately across her blood stained tunic and her glazed emerald eyes which used to stop his beating heart. He knelt down and kissed the blood from her lips, for even in death, her beauty astounded him. 

He stood and watched the last of his people of Logan Hollow take their final breath, clinching his fists he raised them to the heavens and shouted, “Thou shall never forgive.” 

Placing the final stone on top of the freshly dug mound, he dropped to the ground and wept. The approach of pounding hoofs gave him the strength to rise, “Who enters?” He said drawing his sword.
           ^^^^^
A thousand years later . . .

The Senior Class from Texas, more interested in finding a pub than sightseeing, gathers around their History Professor in front of the marble pillared structure protected only by a small weather-beaten chain. “Gather round ya’ all, gather round.” The Professor says.

“It was exactly a thousand years ago tonight somewhere close to this spot Sir William returned from battle to find his beloved wife and all his people of Logan Hollow slaughtered by the invading Vikings that King Sweyn Haraldsson of Denmark had sent to defeat the Scots. In the end, the Scots prevailed, but unfortunately for Sir William he never saw the victory. Because-” 
      
“That’s all cool Profess, but can we go now, I’m really thirsty.” Bob interrupted.

“Shhh, be quiet I want to know what happened next!” Dorothy says.

The professor glares at Bob, “Because, that same night Sir William was visited by a strange horseman who offered him a choice between living in agony over the death of his beloved and giving his life in exchange for the promise of one day rising as a victorious Knight. He chose death. Today he is called, Knight of Logan Hollow, and it's told he will one day come back riding a black stallion with eyes the color of blood and breath as powerful as a steam engine, bringing to life his beloved and all those who perished that fateful day.” 

“Come on Professor, it’s been a thousand years, people around here can’t still believe in that crap.” Andy says.

The professor looks around at the undeveloped land, “What do ya’ all think?”  
             ^^^^^
After downing enough Guinness to drown a fish, Bob and Andy sneak out of the hotel and stumble their way down a side street.  Through the dimness of the street lamp they see bellowing smoke from the idling taxi.


The car pulls to the side of the darkened road with the squealing of railway wheels, “I’ve gone far enough.”  The driver says.

“Hey man, there must be a mile or more left.”  Bob slurs.

“Aye, but I never enter Logan Hollow at night for when the Knight of Logan Hollow comes I assure you he will not go away empty handed.”  He says, eyeing the full moon through the windshield.

“You said you’d take us, well you’re not getting your fair!”  Bob says, stumbling out of the car.

“Thanks dude, we’ll be fine.”  Andy says, handing him the fair and then some.

Bob and Andy weave their way along the moonlit road toward Logan Hollow, the singing frogs filling the night and their crunching footsteps announcing their approach.
            ^^^^^

Ahead in the distance, the pounding of hoofs echo below the ground, bringing sweet music to their hollowed ears. Their waiting had cost them muscle, skin, hair and beauty, but they never lost hope; for one day they knew their Knight would come, for death is but a patient slumber.

“Wait till the Professor hears what we did tonight.” Andy says.

“Yeah, hey man stop a minute.” Bob pauses, “did you hear that?”
  
“Dude, not you too, you can’t honestly believe in that crap.”

“Nah man, I was just joking.” Bob says throwing his arm around Andy’s neck and giving him a knuckle rub on the head.

Through the cast of the full moon they saw the ripples of spine through the tattered strands of the once flowing tunic and the sunken sockets that once held eyes of emerald, stopping their beating hearts.

Pulling on the reigns, the Knight of Logan Hollow leans back and raises his sword, “Come, tonight we take back what is ours!”          

Word count: 735

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Dear Diary - Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I'm back with pawsome news!

Now that August is behind me and my short story completed, I’m excited to be back blogging, writing Friday Flash Fiction and as you can see, decorating for fall. This week’s theme for Vamplit Publishing’s Friday Flash is Death Personified, and I think I’m off to a good start!
Now for the really paw licking, paw kicking and tail twitching news: The short story I wrote for submission to Angelic Knight Press’s upcoming Anthology, Satan’s Toy box: Demonic Dolls was accepted for publication!  Check out a sneak peek of the cover-
Cover art property of Angelic Knight Press
Is it not pawsomly spooky!  My story is titled, Mr. Jingle, and he is truly an evil doll. I am so honored to be given the opportunity to work with the great team at Angelic Knight Press and I can’t wait to read all the other spooky doll stories! I’ll keep you posted on its debut!
One thing I learned during my leave of absence from the blogging world is how much I miss being connected to my writing friends. Ghostwriting can be such a lonely world, so I guess it’s a good thing I have friends to bounce ideas off of and take out my frustrations on. Meet Dandy, T.K. calls him Dandy Wandy, but I call him fat boy. 

He’s super sweet and he knows to stay away when I’m working, but, the only problem is I think he stays away eating my portion of morsels! Do you think he can see his paws?
I'm glad to be back and I hope you stop by this Friday to read my Flash Fiction!
Fangfully yours,
Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Dear Diary - Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Having spent the past two weeks spotlighting authors who have been so supportive in my feline ghostwriting adventures in the fictional world of horror (click here for author, Carole Gill and here for author, Blaze McRob) I wanted to take time to spotlight another supportive author, Bessie Mac, who writes about real world horror . . . animal abuse.
"There's room for only one."
Being born in the warm comfort of a home and lovingly chosen over my litter mates at the young age of five weeks to live the life of a quasi famous ghostwriter didn't exactly prepare me to share my life with orphans. I have to say I don’t always like sharing the warm comfort of my king size bed with other creatures of the night or having to give up a portion of my salmon crunchers to some slobbering canine thief, but in some weird way, I’m glad I do. Thanks to them I've come to understand how long a day can feel without fresh food and water or what it takes to survive a winter’s night without shelter. I also know just when you think the whole world has turned its back on you, life brings hope.



This week I’d like to thank Besse Mac, author of Holly’s Story. 





Part of her, The Forever Home Series, Holly’s Story is a tale about courage, strength, love and hope, all told through the eyes of Holly. 


My name is Holly

If you like to read a story that will have you wiping your eyes from sadness and joy, then Holly’s Story is sure to make your tail wag or in my case, twitch!

In addition to spending her time writing, Besse Mac is also a foster mom for the Arizona Schnauzer Rescue which is how she met Holly who compelled her to share the journey of the animals she's fostered.

Below are links to Besse Mac’s website and Blog, where she writes another story in her The Forever Home Series, The Chronicles of Little Bear. I hope you find time to discover Bessie Mac who likes meeting and connecting with other authors on Facebook.

Fangfully yours, 

Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp





Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Dear Diary – Wednesday, July 20, 2011








REFLECTIONS...






Dear Diary,

This week I felt compelled to do some self-reflection, and since I’m always looking at myself in the mirror I found it to be quite easy. 

Knowing I am Efi Loo, The Cat Vamp, I knew my keen feline vision would see nothing but purrfection; however, much to my surprise I discovered I’ve been a little self-centered these past couple weeks. (Okay, actually T.K. Millin had to point it out) But in my defense it’s been a little easy letting my paws get a little too big for my litter box. I mean how many cats can claw out a flash fiction every week, maintain two blogs and sleep through numerous edits? 

But since I’m reflecting this week I would like to take full responsibility for the one thing I’ve been neglecting lately and it’s a very big one thing. Okay enough pussy footin’ around, I have neglected something that’s very important in a writer’s life and that’s paying if forward.

Meew, now that I’ve gotten my one short coming out of the bag I’d like to shine a spotlight on fellow authors who have been so supportive of my feline adventures and I’d like to let them know I am meowfully grateful.

Over the next few weeks I will share their sites and stories with you and I know you will find them just as interesting as I do. Each of them also welcome new friends with open paws!

This week I’d like to thank Carole Gill, author of The House on Blackstone Moor, and several anthologies and sci-fi stories. It doesn’t take a bright light to make Carole shine. Since I made a promise not to talk about myself I’d have to admit Carole Gill is one of the hardest working “human” authors I know. 

Her work is timeless, classical and SCARY! If you like all things vampires, demons or gothic then Carole Gill is the author for you. Carole also writes Friday Flash Fiction, in fact, she was very open to helping a feline ghost writer join in on the fun.

I’ve provided links below to her two blogs (okay so maybe I’m not all that of a cat) where you can better get to know Carole Gill and her writings. I hope you find a little time to visit, because if you don’t, remember, I am Efi Loo, The Cat Vamp!



Take a bite out of life!

Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp         

Monday, July 11, 2011

Dear Diary - Monday, July 11, 2011

Join Efi Loo in the Happy Cat Dance!
All week-end long I kicked my paws up and I didn’t even touch my stash of catnip! The reason being I had so many nice people take time out of their busy schedule to stop by and read my Friday Flash Fiction, The Keeper. I am meow-fully thankful for all the nice comments and so I would like to start off my diary this week by giving all my blog friends a GIANT Paw of Appreciation!

It looks like this week is going to be another paw kicking week filled with writing, eating and cat napping, but I think it’s going to be filled mostly with writing. I’m sure all my writer pals out there in blogger world know there is no rest for writers of all things scary!


Speaking of blogger world, I’m so excited about the theme for this week’s Flash Fiction Friday that I don’t even think I could hold my cat tongue if I tried.

Paws for the because . . . 


It's Outer Space! As in It Came From Outer Space, The Blob, Alien or even Starship Troopers! I have so many ideas I’m not sure what my paws will pump out this week. 

I better start early by dipping my claws into some catnip. Shhh, it's our secret, T.K. Millin doesn't know I sniffed out where they hide the stash!  


Fang-fully yours,

Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp




Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Dear Diary - Tuesday, July 5, 2011



Meowummy!
What a fang-tasticlly delicious Fourth of July!  

First, I celebrated our freedom by sinking my teeth into some fresh steamed Florida Key West pink shrimp.

Then I followed it up with the catch of the of the day: 
GROUPER!  It was the cat's meow!


I have to say though, after devouring all that seafood I was thirsty!


Then I nestled down for a nap before the night came alive. From my superior feline perspective I find it hard to understand why humans feel it necessary to celebrate with such disturbing noise. Isn't it enough the only superior being to me celebrates by opening the sky with tears of joy and makes me run in fear when it stomps its feet! 



T.K. Millin said we have lots to do this week, now that her niece has gone back home (I hate to admit it, but I already miss her). Here is what I have on my TO Claw At List for this week: revise two chapters in Summertime Chills, write blog post for T.K.'s blog, The Unknown Author (found here) and write this week’s Friday Flash Fiction. So it looks like I’m going to have a pawsitively busy week, but since I am a feline ghost writer, I wouldn’t want it any other way.


Just found out this week’s theme for Friday’s Flash is Lighthouses and I’m already twirling a spooky tale around inside my superior brain. So far it’s enough to make any cat tail twitch! 

Fang-fully yours,

Efi Loo
The Cat Vamp

Friday, July 1, 2011

The Locket by T.K. Millin

Now that the house had been cleared of all its possessions, the only remaining evidence of someone once living there was the blood stained walls hidden by a fresh coat of paint, and a forgotten faded photo of an elderly woman softly touching the locket she once wore with pride.
The fallen golden leaves swirl in harmony as the car winds its way up the path, “Look Mommy there it is and it’s taller than a giant!” Tammy says, pointing ahead in the distance. 
     “Jake, it’s beautiful.”  Paige grabs his right hand and squeezes. 
     “I will settle for nothing but the best for my two beautiful ladies.” He says, lifting Paige’s hand and softly touching it with his lips. 
     “Daddy, I’m not a lady, I’m only eight years old!” Tammy squeals, making her parents laugh.
Jake lifts up the welcome mat, “Just where the agent said it would be.” He picks up the brass key and unlocks the door, “Welcome to our new home.” He pushes the door open and the smell of fresh paint rushes across their faces. 
“Pewee!” Tammy says, waving her hand in front of her face. The three of them, unknowingly, step over a threshold with a hidden secret.
The next morning Tammy explored her new home with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. She ran from room to room, opening and closing doors as if each one held a new world she would later come back and discover, but when she reached the top of the stairs and found a tiny door only a child could fit through she knew she had to go in.
Tammy turns the door handle, but it’s locked. Noticing this was the only door with a mat; she lifts it and discovers a key. “Just like Daddy yesterday.” She thinks slipping the key into the keyhole and turning it until it clicks.
As the door creaks open, Tammy steps inside the dark room and notices a hint of light peeking through closed curtains. Her heart begins to race, “Okay I can do this; one, two, three!” She runs toward the window and flings the drapes open. Silently counting to three again, she takes a deep breath and turns around to the empty space. 
She notices something leaning up against the back left corner of the room, “I wonder what it is?” She whispers.  She takes one step at a time toward the dimly lit corner, “Oh gosh I wish I had a flashlight.” She thinks. Taking a deep breath Tammy squats down to look at the mysterious object, “Oh, it’s just a picture frame.” She says, relieved. Picking it up and turning it over she shouts, “Mommy, Daddy I’ve found something!” 

       ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Say cheese!” Jake says before snapping the photo. 
Tammy stares at her mother proudly touching the locket, just like the creepy woman in the photo she found, and suddenly feels cold. The room turns pitch black after her mother blows the last candle out. "Daddy, Daddy, please turn the lights on!” She screams, feeling something brush past her.
     “Okay, okay, what are you so afraid of?” He asks. 
She looks around the room noticing only the three of them, “Nothing Daddy, I guess it was just the dark.”    
     “Honey, there is nothing to be afraid of it’s my birthday,” her mother says rubbing the locket, “Jake, it’s beautiful, where did you find it?”
     “I was in town the other day and came up on a small alley way and this sudden urge came over me to find out what was at the end. That’s when I discovered a tiny antique shop and there in the front window was the locket shining away. It’s also where I found this old Polaroid.”  He says, handing her the fading in image.  
    “Is it the same one?”  Paige asks.
    “I think so, the old man in the store said he didn’t know anything about it or where it came from, but for some reason I think he was hiding something. I’m positive it’s the same locket the woman was wearing in the picture Tammy found.” Jake says.
    “Me too,” Paige says, comparing the photos, “It’s identical.” The mantel clock strikes once, “That’s strange,” Paige says looking at her watch, “it’s only nine o’clock, maybe it needs wound.” 
    “No, I wound it today,” Jake taps on the glass pane, “it doesn’t look broken.” He says, noticing the pendulum ticking back and forth.
    “Broken or not, I believe it’s past someone’s bedtime.” Paige says to Tammy.     
   
Tammy wakes to the sound of an eerie voice, a voice she’s never heard before. “Look inside the hidden wall.”  It repeatedly says. 
Tammy sits up and stares around her shadowed room.  "What hidden wall?” She asks the mysterious voice. 
“Look inside your closet.” It whispers back.
Tammy pulls the covers up around her neck, “Why do monsters always have to hide in closets?” She wonders. 
Taking deep breathes Tammy walks one step at a time toward the closet door, hoping Daddy was right when he told her things weren’t always as they seemed. She turns the handle, closes her eyes and opens the door; knowing she’ll probably only find complete darkness and her imagination.
“The locket has come home once again and has awoken me, the almighty Agulmon, from my darkened slumber. You shall do what I command!” The shapely figure says through the fiery flames.
  Tammy walks down the hallway toward her parent’s room, dragging the ax behind; trying to fight off the urge she knows isn't coming from her innocent soul.

       ~ ~ ~ ~

After the house had been cleared of its possessions, the only thing remaining which showed any evidence of it once being inhabited by a family was a fresh coat of paint, and a forgotten Polaroid photo of a woman sitting in front of a candle lit cake, softly touching the locket she once wore with pride.

Total word count:  986