A Place Without Light: Chapter 4

The End of the Drive

“He possesses me.” he uttered with a detached seriousness, his voice echoing in the darkness. Something snapped within me when I heard him say those words. A feeling of not being met by an anticipated surprise took over me and instead I was surprised that I wasn’t shocked by this new revelation. Instead it was like small bits of puzzles slowly falling together making it look more like a whole picture. It was now clear that the bird-man had not disappeared into thin air. The man within had been stronger. But how? I wondered for an instance before I spoke to him again.

An Experience of a Cimmerian Shade

I stood at the edge of the forest both enticed and reluctant. Behind me the village beckoned. Houses with chimneys from where wisps of smoke coiled upwards promised me home and hearth.  The warmth of home and hearth lulled me to take a step back. But a deathly cold air escaped the forest and fanned my hair. A deep chortling laughter rumbled somewhere in its belly. The rumbling vibrated causing the moss under my feet throw up tiny stones and tickle the roof of my feet. Of all things dark and sinister, of all things evil and mean that awaited me in darkness anywhere, this one was certainly the blackest and I took a step forward nonetheless.

When Literature Meets History

Dracula or Vlad Dracul Tepes III. Who was more fearsome ?

“there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white, something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell.” – Dracula (chapter eight)

The year was 1890, and when Irish novelist Bram Stoker was  holidaying in the small fishing village in the north-east coast of Whitby in Yorkshire, he was fired with deep inspiration to write a tale about a count of eastern European nobility who has been undead for hundreds of years and who regains his youthful charm by drinking blood. He walks among human beings as one, and is secretly in search of his long lost love. Nothing or none can stop him even  the fact that his love no longer belongs to him.


Once again, a poem has been inspired by one of the most fascinating characters of  the television series Vampire Diaries.  He is the ruthless, heartless and purely pernicious older brother of Stephen Salvatore. Damon Salvatore is completely devoid of any conscience, at least not until he arrives at Mystic Falls. As the serial unfolds he does show some really wonderful redeeming qualities but my poem is about another time. The character of Damon Salvatore is entirely irredeemable as Milton’s Satan in Paradise Lost and yet one cannot help feeling sympathetic towards him. An uncontested dark prince of his own right but he is hunted too.


This poem is dedicated to one my absolutely favourite characters in the House of Night Series, Rephaim  the Raven Mocker. He is half raven, half man who is an offspring  of rape and lust.


Vampires, Wolves, Now it’s Fallen Angels

Romancing the Vampire, the Werewolf and the Fallen angel

We fell in love with vampires and werewolves. Are we ready to fall in love with fallen angels?

Needless to pinpoint that Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series gave the vampire an entirely new approach. Earlier, vampires were just blood drinking machines, with absolutely no remorse whatsoever. How could they feel pity when they had no brains? When they had no heart? But Meyer changed it all in a grand way. She gave the vampire a heart. Perhaps not a soul, but yes definitely a heart.

“I may not be a human, but I am a man.” (Edward Cullen,Twilight)

Let the Right One In – A Review

A treat for all  fans of the Gothic genre

It is the 1980s, Oskar a twelve-year-old boy is constantly bullied in school. Going to school and being cornered in the toilet is his  biggest fear. There is no escape and the only way he seeks solace is by fantasizing a bloody revenge.
Eli a primitive person in child’s body, dirty, emaciated, hungry and lonely. Eli and Oskar are two painfully lonely people and when they meet, a beautiful friendship is born. A friendship   tested through tears, toil and blood. A friendship that comes shining through while the rest of the world around them falls apart…


Yoshay Lama

I welcome you warmly to my blog. This is the resting place of most of my creative work. This blog consists of book reviews, articles, poems, mere reflections and excerpts from my stories.

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