book review

Everlee & Lee by Katya Mills


I am the author of this title, Everlee & Lee, a dark tale revolving around a teenage boy and his sister trying to make sense of a family tragedy. Spirit life haunts the Queen Anne Victorian home in which they live. I use a rather formal (and unreal) type of dialogue on purpose. Temporal shifts accompany the telekinetic and telepathic powers of the characters. One other thing I will confide to you. I wrote this story out of the great and painful heartache I lived with, after my grandfather was essentially murdered by an awful gold digger of a woman he married. My family sued and got the money she stole from him back. Because she had the body cremated the day after his death, a case for murder was never made. Writing this story helped me find my own peace.


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ghost story

i had gone to the back of the room and left them telling their stories one by one with seldom an interruption. the voices gave warmth to a cool autumn morning while the delta breeze slid soundlessly across the train tracks and the torn upholstery of abandoned cars to the branches of the trees tapping on the glass all around us to get in.

i poured myself a mug of hot coffee and stirred in a bit of sugar, standing there with my back to them, listening half-heartedly and somewhere between consciousness and last night's dream.

after a few hearty slugs of the black stuff my eyes woke up first and stared into a congregation of uneven framed black and white portraits from times before now. century old tired and long faces looked back at me and over my shoulder as if they were part of our gathering in this old meeting
hall, a former nondescript bar once with billiards for the truck drivers and laborers in the yards.

i felt a chill carry over the nape of my neck as i realized i had become some medium some conduit between my audience hung by nails alongside coffee mugs on the wall, and the living boisterous
true fellowship behind us. i stood perfectly still then

turned to see the speaker at the head of the table, an older gentleman with a way about him and expressions i would not forget to remember him by. as i turned slowly back my eyes getting larger to see, alighted on an old rusted peg, the visage of the living man! he was silent yearning to be free, framed right there before me... and in small white numerals in the corner of the photograph... i read in disbelief the year! it was 1923.

GTL a book reading 1.23.4

Review: Interview with the Vampire

Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The reason I give this book 5 stars is related to the quality and style of the writing. Anne Rice is a writer's writer. I also felt like she understood her subject matter-- 'Vampires' thoroughly. She did her homework and she filled the characters out around the edges within which vampires must be contained.

Aside: [I will never understand how so many writers and filmmakers can decide to take license with vampires, and endow them with qualities vampires do not have! I know its the 21st century and everybody loves a vampire. But this does not give people license to turn vampires into vampires plus, or just give them horrible makeovers].

Anne Rice fortunately, is not among those who have been taking the species to the sewer in their awfully careless treatments all across the media landscape. (The 'Underworld' films are also an excellent example of vampires done right). Maybe I am a bitter goth from way back. Anyway, thank you Anne Rice for doing right by vampires. The others should go and make their own terrible monsters, and not be so lazy to call them vampires, or so greedy to capitalize on the trend!

The characters are interesting. The sense of humor is dark, sardonic caustic. The plots are thick. I did put the book down, for weeks at a time, but I read it twice and caught things the second time I missed the first time around. Anne Rice has sold so many books during her lifetime because her writing is bold, flashy, fun, and colorful. If you haven't tried her and you like vampires, check it out.

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Journal # 04.09.15

I was in bed and the blankets smothered me and I was unable to do my work because I think I was dead. I walked through a couple of walls before I figured it out. My cats could still see me, evidenced by swishing of tails. All of my social responsibilities washed off of my formlessness. I felt pretty good, maybe better than when I was formed. My apartment of course was no longer mine, but you couldn't tell me that. I thought I would never get used to the jerk who took over. He watched television constantly and jerked off a lot. He was quite abusive to his girlfriends, none of whom knew one another. But I changed my mind about him, the night I saw him holding a frame with an old photo of his mother. I saw he had love in his heart. I petted him, but no use. I scrubbed his aura clean, it was the least I could do. His energy picked up a little, and he even opened the cans of tuna I left in the cabinet and put it out on the back porch for the stray cats. Which were my cats, of course.

Rollys evil eye by KatYa

If I struggled much, with ceaseless concentration, I found I could cause the door to vibrate and move. I opened the apartment for my cats at night, while he was sleeping. They were so happy to see me. I saw that I had a true shadow, well not as thick as the human. I could run up and down the wall for my cats to play with me by my shadow. We had endless fun! I was as cold as the night air, and as warm as the sun made the day. I could walk through the fog and all the skunks and squirrels and animals would follow me. I spent hours in the backyard, scaring the crows. The man began gardening, at night. He grew tomatoes and giant pumpkins. The vines pushed over the ground and sprawled out. An idea began to seed in my mind. I evolved my telekinetic, and stole some spray paint, well, floated it on out of the hardware store. I spray-painted myself black and walked through the wall one day and petrified the human host. Within 48 hours he packed up and was gone. I vibrated the doors open for my cats and the skunks and the squirrels. We all convened on the bed, which was mine. A california king sleigh bed and big enough to hold our little family. I crept under the blankets and closed my eyes to sleep. I awoke to living breathing life again! Damn. I gotta pay my rent and check my messages.

BODY. ELECTRIC

"I went with her there, to the heat, and my eyes also turned a shade orange-red; and the poor devil, his focus all glued into my head and my hair, the little song on his breath, reaching out like he was finger-painting now, suddenly struck by the force of heat radiating out from us, and all of it electric. And our bodies now glowing, I opened myself to her lead, merely an extension now of her fire. He may as well have touched a live wire, when he went to finally caress the back of my neck with his hand, dropping his palm on my shoulder. The force threw him back, I swear! Physically he was up lifted and fell back, and rolled down the hill. Jack and Jill. But Jill would not come tumbling after." -K.