Vanta M. Black is Today's Featured Author for the Haunted Halloween Spooktacular!

Oubliette: A Forgotten Little Place

By Vanta M. Black

Genre: Fiction, Thriller, Paranormal, Historical Fiction, Genre-Fiction, New Adult, Horror

ISBN: 978-0-9964488-2-6

ISBN: 978-0-9964488-1-9

ISBN: 978-0-9964488-0-2

Book Description:

Veronica knows the monsters aren’t “just in her head”, but no one listens to the headstrong ten-year-old as they tie her to a hospital bed every night.

Years later, after being dumped by her business-partner/boyfriend, Veronica finds herself on the verge of bankruptcy. Then a late-night call promises the perfect solution — a job opportunity decorating a castle in France.

Will Veronica risk what little she has left to chase a fairytale?

When the shadowy things that once terrorized her come back, Veronica must decide how much she’ll sacrifice for them, for her sanity, and for her life.

This epic book consists of interwoven stories with paranormal twists. A horror-filled historical fiction adventure, it spans nearly two millennia.

You'll be transported to an ancient Pagan ritual, Roman-ruled Gaul, the bloody Inquisition of the Knights Templar, France as it's ravaged by the Black Death, the duplicitous Reformation, the Paris Catacombs, and the gory French Revolution, while you unravel Oubliette’s cryptic layers.

Amazon    BN    Author Website

Excerpt One from Oubliette—A Forgotten Little Place by Vanta M. Black - From the Prologue to Veronica’s Story

Veronica didn’t understand why they looked for the monsters in her head, that’s obviously not where they were. Instead of listening, the doctors stuck pads with wires to her temples and increased the dosage of an IV that dripped into her veins.

They also told the nurses to tie her down with thick, leather belts every night.

The tethers didn’t matter though, because when the monsters came, she wouldn’t be able to move anyway. The only thing Veronica could ever do was scream.

The doctors called them “night terrors”. The pudgy lady who talked funny –– she told Veronica it was her accent –– said they were “spirits”. Mommy used the term “shadow people”. Veronica just called them “monsters”, and wished they’d stop scaring her when she slept.

They wanted her. Deep inside, on a primal level, Veronica knew the monsters –– or whatever they were –– craved her, and if given the chance, they would do something very, very bad to her.

The little girl tried to explain this to the doctors, the nurses, the accent-talking lady, and her mother, but none of the adults really listened. Instead they argued and shouted at each other, and huffed in and out of the room –– but the thing that frightened Veronica the most, is when the adults would simply shrug their shoulders, and admit that they really didn’t have any idea what the monsters were at all.

Excerpt from Oubliette—A Forgotten Little Place by Vanta M. Black

From The Children’s Story

Louis dashed and the creature lunged after him. A thick, strong paw snatched the boy’s injured foot, wrapping around it with a vice-like grip. It pulled him down. The lad’s belly splatted on a damp bed of moss and the precious contents of his satchel sprayed out around him.

It reared up with a ferocious maw open wide. Despite the darkness, Louis saw into its eyes. Bright against its black matted fur, they had glistening whites — like a person’s. The eyes looked human, and that terrified Louis more than if they had looked like a raging, wild animal’s.

As the beast swooped down to attack, Louis twisted to one side and rolled over something round and hard. He grabbed what he thought was a rock and brought it down on the thing’s skull with a smack. It howled in pain, swung its head around to attack again, and then froze.

Louis braced for its strike with hands shielding his head. When nothing happened, he tentatively pulled his arm back to see the creature sulk back. The boy took advantage of the inexplicable reaction and kicked his foot free. It recoiled, and Louis saw that its menacing gaze was locked on the object in his hand. It wasn’t a rock after all, but one of the special relics his father had given him.

Louis scooted back. The thing hovered in front of him but did not move forward. It swayed slightly, like a dog tethered on a leash. Perhaps Isabelle was right! It couldn’t go beyond the castle grounds.

He gathered up his satchel and the rest of the contents, then slowly, cautiously, walked backward, keeping his eyes on it the whole time. Once he felt there was a safe distance between him and the devil, he spun and ran toward the river.

He was small and fast and darted easily through the dense foliage. It only took moments for him to arrive. Isabelle was there on the bank, waiting for him. She hugged him and cried, “Are you all right? Did it chase after you?”

Louis nodded and tears welled up in his big, brave eyes. “But it didn’t get me. It tried, but I scared it off!”

Isabelle chortled. “You scared it, my little poppet?”

“No, it was scared of this.” He held up the object.

Isabelle looked confused and squinted at the gleaming globe-like relic in the moonlight, “What is it?” Before the boy could answer, she interrupted him. “Shh, listen. Barking...I hear dogs.”

About the Author:

Vanta M. Black, author of Oubliette—A Forgotten Little Place, enjoys uncovering the dark mysteries of our Universe.

In addition to writing,  she enjoys traveling to provocative places and studying all things esoteric.

Black has degrees in English, communication and art. She resides in Southern California with her husband and two pug-mix dogs, and spends her time in support of causes that empower women and advance science and technology.

http://www.vantamblack.com/

https://www.facebook.com/VantaM.Black

https://www.facebook.com/OublietteNovel/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14697666.Vanta_M_Black

https://twitter.com/VantaMBlack  @VantaMBlack

http://oublietteaforgottenlittleplace.tumblr.com/

https://www.pinterest.com/VantaMBlack/

http://www.youtube.com/c/VantamblackOubliette

https://www.iauthor.uk.com/oubliette-a-forgotten-little-place:18380

Day 28 of NANOWRIMO!

Today was a hard day to get writing done. I managed 2,079 though. I'd love to do more but am so very tired. If I can do that many, or close to it, the next two days then I'll make the goal!

I worked on flashback scenes this time. There are only two and they take place one after the other in the story. I don't care much for flashbacks but they are needed to show a character things that happened in her ancestor's past and their effect on the present.

Here's the excerpt:

Obasi came to with a low moan but had no idea how long he lay unaware on the ground. It was painful to move but he turned onto his side and realized the reed mat beneath him was soaked in his blood. He probed his shoulder wound with the fingers of his right hand and winced. It was crusted a little so he knew to pack it with grasses to staunch any further bleeding. There were plenty only a few feet away and so he half dragged, half crawled over to them. The back of his head ached too, likely from impacting the ground when he fell at the last.

 He further realized it was quiet…too quiet. He heard no sounds of hooves or shouting or clashing of weapons. Even the insects were silent.

Where are the men? What happened to the villagers?

He frowned when he saw the billows of white and grey smoke rising from the village. He feared for his tribal family.

There were many scuff marks on the ground to indicate the battle was fierce. Blood, sweat, and smoke still clung to the air so he decided he wasn’t out for very long. Continuing to shove the grasses against his wound, he noticed something dark in the bushes just beyond reach. He concentrated his focus and realized he it was a man’s foot sticking out from beneath.

Crawling closer, he was able to trace the foot to a leg and then a thigh. There he paused because he recognized the scarification sigil on that thigh. It belonged to one of the drummers who fled the scene when the conquistador shot his pistol.

Obasi gathered his inner strength and said a prayer for help as he grasped the leg and pulled. It was indeed attached to the rest of the poor man’s body but was too heavy and at the wrong angle for the priest to pull him free of the foliage.

He wormed his way beneath the branches to get closer. One look at the man’s ruined face made him stop. There was no way any mortal could survive that kind of damage. Bone and cartilage reflected the fading sunlight; there were a handful of teeth scattered to one side like kernels of discarded corn.

The end is near! Not just for NANOWRIMO but some characters in my story. LOL!

After a couple of rough days, where I barely managed 100 words each. I made up for it with today's 3,148 words in the Scarification novel for NANOWRIMO. With the bad weather and black Friday weekend (which you couldn't pay me to go out in), I should finish on target.

Yes, I am about to kill off some folks. Hey, it's a horror novel so that's got to be expected at some point. Right?

Here's the excerpt for today:

1750 A.D.

Kukoyi and his brother hid among the leafy green bushes. They knelt among the tall grasses and sat still and patient as a lion assessing its prey. Nothing stirred them, not even the insects crawling across their toes or stinging their arms. Sweat ran freely down from their temples to their cheeks and still they watched, taking mental note of every detail before them.

The Yoruban chief followed his tribesman here to investigate reports of raids on neighboring tribes. There were many stories and rumors these lean years about raiders different than those of the normal intertribal disputes. These newer invaders destroyed villages, burning the homes and crops. They took the people away…those not left to rot in the hot sun.

The Nigerians were outmatched in weaponry, which more than made up for the lack of invading soldier numbers. Their tactics were strange as well—offering immunity for trade of enemies or outright buying children. Not the very young but those of an age to be easily influenced, yet not needing a mother’s careful watch. Those of eight to twelve rainy seasons of age were most at risk. It didn’t matter if they were married or nobility. All were taken the same.

All of the old were outright slaughtered, as were the sick and deformed. These men were unmerciful and unyielding. They cared nothing for death rites or burial rituals, which left many souls doomed to wander the savannah, following the red trails of blood in the dust.

They were careful with the pregnant women, which the men found curious. If one was to slaughter their enemies, why would they leave the possibility of one becoming two by allowing the birth? The other curious thing was the disturbing boldness of these bearded men from the northwest. They never employed stealth and negotiations were brief, if at all. It was as if they did not fear the Orishas or the power of the land.

The Portuguese slavers clapped iron bracelets and anklets, which were joined together by thick chains on each of their conquered people. Then they were led away towards the coast. Rumors were to a place whose name was feared:  Elmina Castle. It’s Door of No Return was infamous and only spoke of in whispers. Kukoya believed it was a doorway into hell, as did most other Nigerians.

Day 23 of NANOWRIMO. 40,000 words surpassed! Excerpt included.

It was a good writing day. I split it up again so maybe that's a better plan for me. I'm concerned there isn't enough action lately so hope to focus on a few of those scenes next. Yeah, I know there will be revision time later but you know writers...always looking for what's needed to make the story flow and be interesting.

My daily count came in at 3,011 which gives me a running total of 40,028. I'm excited. Grin.

Here is today's excerpt:

Amara interrupted, “There are some situations which cannot be fixed and some wounds which cannot or should not be healed. In cases of physical abuse like this, the children’s lives are at risk.”

“That’s one beautiful thing about God. No one is above redemption. Anyone, who truly wishes it, can be redeemed. It doesn’t matter the depth of their depravity, or their sins. The key is for them to see and understand their wrongs and truly repent of them.”

“That would require never doing it again. I can’t risk that on any child’s life.” Amara straightened her back. “Please forgive my bluntness but this is not the time for sermons. Praying for them won’t fix anything.”

“Ah, but there you are incorrect,” the priest said, punctuating his point by jabbing his right index finger on the desktop. “As I mentioned before, the blessings of her sister brought Abeni discomfort. The demon could no longer hide itself. Prayer may be the only way to save her.”

Just then Amara remembered something:  shortly after Kalika started praying the family blessing, she silently prayed a similar blessing prayer from her ancestors. Suddenly she wondered how far back that prayer actually came from. She knew her family history went back to a tobacco plantation in Virginia. They were slaves captured originally in…Africa.

Day 22 of NANOWRIMO! Post update and today's excerpt.

Today I did a split writing day. 1,200 words in the morning and the rest after some TV in the evening. I did nap in the afternoon though. Hopefully it'll help me dump this cold I'm trying to come down with. I also suspect the carbs I'm having difficulty avoiding are contributing to the headaches, heartburn, and lethargy. I'm determined to avoid them more than I have been. It's my fault for not being diligent.

My total writing today came to 3,321 words. I start the final week with my total at 37,017 out of 50,000. Almost there!

Here's today's excerpt (remember these are unedited):

Pumbaa Bankole hadn’t slept much the night before either. The imageless visitor returned to taunt him as he lay on his bunk. He knew it was there just seconds before it spoke. The room smelled of warmth and ozone. He also knew he didn’t imagine it because one of the other two men in the cell stirred.

“I met Abeni,” it told him from the dark shadows of the jail cell.

When he ignored the bodiless voice, it sang in his ear, “I showed her what a liar her father is and how her mother is a slut.”

Pumbaa closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

“They tried to take her faith away from her but I stopped them. You should be grateful; you should thank me,” it told him.

“I doubt that,” Pumbaa whispered.

“They wanted her to nail her brother to the wall.”

“I doubt that as well.”

“Shut up,” one of Pumbaa’s cell mates spit at him from where he lay up on his bunk. The man turned over to face the wall.

“Ask her about the little séance. Oh wait, you poor man who cannot even comfort his daughter in her darkest hour. I suppose you will have to leave that to me.”

“Leave me,” Pumbaa said in a low tone.

“Very well,” the voice said to him. “I guess I will have to go discuss the situation with your wife.”

Even though he couldn’t see the thing, Pumbaa knew the presence had left. The room suddenly felt emptier and cold. He told himself he preferred it that way as he pulled his blanket up tighter about his chest.

When dawn arrived, and the call to rise came from the prison public address system, Pumbaa cursed the demon. Even though it didn’t stay long, it planted the seeds of doubt and worry in his mind. That was enough to keep him awake and uncomfortable the remainder of the night. He climbed from his bunk, exhausted in body and mind.

Day 19 of NANORIMO Less than 20,000 words to go! Also, today's excerpt.

The count for today is 1,842 words, which puts the total so far this month at 30,976. I did finish reading Interview with an Exorcist and posted a review on Goodreads before writing for today.

Here's the excerpt from today's writing:

“I believe a curse as a real thing is entirely possible. It’s not as direct as modern people may think where a person suddenly grows old or thin. However, a demonic presence can be directed to focus on a person, or a family in this case. We’ll find some of this out in the determination interview. Signs of a real obsession or possession will include elements we all can see.”

“Would you elaborate?” Amara asked.

“Certainly. If the demon is present, we should be able to force it to reveal itself. Physical attributes such as abnormal strength for a child, eyes rolling back in her head, speaking foreign or dead languages, causing objects to levitate,” Quinn explained.

“That sounds like Hoodoo or some kind of stage illusion.”

“That is something we will discover along the way. It can be very real or some great elaborate hoax.”

“Well, thank you for your time. I appreciate your candor and consideration. I will see you at the interview tomorrow then.”

Amara stood and held out her right hand to shake Father Quinn’s hand.

He accepted it but held on for a moment to gain her full attention. “Miss Byrd. You and I will help these children…one way or another.”

Day 18 of NANOWRIMO report and excerpt.

Okay, so I know this is posting on 11-19-2015 but the NANOWRIMO count is for the 18th. I just didn't finish until after midnight. I spent some time writing today that wasn't typing words on the page. If you're an author, you know what I mean. I had four books for research come in and spent time reading the first 60 pages of the first. It is for the Scarification story so it counts as writing, even though it won't add to my challenge word count. I'm reading Interview with an Exorcist by Fr. Jose AntonioFortea.

So when I did get to writing (after tonight's episode of Supernatural), I got in 1,906 words. That puts the running total up to 29,134. Grin.

Here's the excerpt from today's writing:

It was a long night at the hospital. It was cool in Abeni’s room so Amara made sure both she and the young girl had blankets. What they got looked well used and thin but were surprisingly warm.

The social worker put the television on until Abeni drifted off. Then she turned it to a music channel and lowered the volume. Just high enough to mask the unusual sounds drifting in from the hall from time to time.  She supposed they weren’t unusual for a hospital but certainly not something normally expected to hear at home. She didn’t want anything to disturb the girl. If what the other family members told her was even remotely true, they all had a stressful evening.

Amara watched Abeni sleep. Her face looked so sweet and serene. She couldn’t imagine seeing that face contorted in a fit of rage or worse, a seizure. Poor baby.

Closing her eyes, Amara prayed softly, “Lord, please watch over Abeni here. I know she wasn’t raised to know you but I was taught all little children belong with you and that you care for them. Please protect her and keep her safe. She deserves…”

“Shut up, bitch,” a man’s voice spat out.

Amara stopped praying and her eyes flew open. She looked around the room. Only she and Abeni were there in the room. The girl’s eyes were still closed while her chest rose and fell in slumber.

Amara rose to her feet and looked towards the half opened door. Not seeing anyone, she crossed the room in her bare feet and checked the hallway. She saw no one. Feeling silly, she turned and stooped to check under the bed. Nothing; she didn’t even see a dust bunny—a plus for the hospital cleaning staff.

The remainder of the night was quiet and Amara did eventually fall asleep in the recliner next to Abeni’s bed. 

Days 15 and 17 late check in NANOWRIMO and excerpt

Day fifteen was a measly 77 words so I included it with yesterday (day sixteen), which was also light. The total was 1,226. Yeah, I know...shameful, right? Luckily today I can spend more time than I originally thought. I did read through several articles of research I'd pulled off the internet both days so it was prep for writing.

Anyway, here's the excerpt for today. It's much milder than the others. I suppose that means there can be sweet moments in a scary book. :D

The kitchen smelled of warm, freshly brewed vanilla flavored coffee, bacon, sweet real maple syrup, and pancakes. This morning the sun shone brightly through the only window located over the kitchen sink. Cheerful sounds of young voices chattering joined with the clinking of silverware.

Aislin waited until after breakfast to ask about the wall drawing. She wanted to approach the subject at just the right time and in a way that wouldn’t sound angry. It wouldn’t do to have an argument on the kids’ first full day at the house. However, defacing property was something she and Brian agreed last night must be nicked in the bud. She figured it was a matter of the right time, along with a high dose of tact.

She watched as the three devoured the pancakes and bacon she made. I suppose every kids loves pancakes. She smiled at the thought. Some of the actual good memories she had of her childhood involved that very breakfast in her grandmother’s kitchen back in Boston.

Nana was one of the reasons Aislin talked her husband into applying for the foster care program. She knew what a difference a caring adult could be in the life of an abused child. She was lucky she had a family member willing to step in to take her and her sisters in after her father killed her mother. Both were severe alcoholics.  Many kids, like these eating in her kitchen, weren’t so lucky. Aislin always figured if she could help even one kid to have the wonderful childhood every kid deserves, then she paid it forward. Of course, she had no intention of stopping at one.

“I’m done. Can I go play now?” Taiwo asked.

Aislin looked into his dark brown eyes. “Yes, sweetie. Be sure to wash your hands in case the syrup made them sticky.”

“Okay.” He scooted off the chair and jumped up one stair at a time towards the upstairs bathroom.

I suppose I’ll have to wipe down the railings later, Aislin mused.

Day 14 of NANOWRIMO. Word count check in and excerpt.

You wrote how much?

Yep, today was a marathon of sorts. I completed 4,762 words today. I was shooting for 5,000 so got close. Hopefully I can pull off a repeat performance tomorrow since the rest of the week is looking to be busy with chores and dentist/cancer center/doctor appointments. Yeah, I'm the driver so my hands will be on the steering wheel more than the keyboard. I'll still do what I can get in though. 

There's one minor character I really like. She's a bit witty so it's going to be hard to either kill her or hurt her bad in the name of moving the story forward. 

Here's today's excerpt:

Taiwo peeked his head into the doorway. Inside he saw Abeni standing barefoot in her night dress on top of the mirrored dresser. She had a big magic marker and was drawing long lines on the white wall.

Remembering how Kalika scolded him, back in their family’s home, the time he drew stick figures on the walls, he looked around for her. She was asleep on the bottom bed but was breathing funny…all fast and squeaking.

Crouching down, Taiwo crept up to her.

When his head peeked over the side of the mattress, he noticed his big sister wasn’t asleep after all. Her eyes were wide and shifted from side to side, stopping to rest on him when she noticed him there. She squeaked again.

Oh, she said something, he realized and partially climbed up to get closer. As he did, her facial expression became frantic and her eyes bored into him.

“What did you say?” he whispered in her ear.

She worked her mouth as if pretending to be a fish under water. Then she strained her head forward and in a hoarse, squeaking whisper spoke.

“Run.”

Day 13 NANOWRIMO Word count check in and excerpt.

Today I wrote another 2,047 words in Scarification. I had in mind do to a bit more but the scene ended. I don't want to pad it just for the sake of the writing challenge. My total is up to 17,599 so there's some progress. Hopefully over the weekend I can get in some extra time on it. I have a couple of exorcisms to write so do have in mind what's next.

Here's today's short excerpt from the end of the scene:

Detective Bontham and Officer Salazar stood in the yard conversing. Salazar had his Maglite back and was fidgeting with it in his hands, passing it back and forth between them.

Amara escorted Shelby Koniz to her vehicle.

“I’ll ride with you and get you all checked in,” she said. “Then one of those two can bring me back to my car.” She nodded her head towards the detective and officer.

“Yeah.”

As Amara bent to get inside the passenger’s seat, Shelby grasped her by the biceps.

“Listen,” she whispered to the social worker. “I’ll go to this hotel room with the kids for tonight but only because there will be an officer checking in on us hourly. Tomorrow, I want them out of my house; out of my care.”

“Why?” Amara couldn’t believe it. “They need you.”

“No, you need me but you can find someone else to take them. I don’t want them in my home any more.”

“How could you do that to them?” Amara asked.

“Because I’m afraid.”

Free Seminar on Writing Horror and Dark Fiction

Coffetime Romance Forum: January 13 - 19, 2014

Seminar on Writing Horror and Dark Fiction

For writers of the dark genres: horror, dark fantasy, occult, and science fiction, this seminar contains practical advice on writing horror and dark fiction. Based upon the book, Telling Tales of Terror: Essays on Writing Horror and Dark Fiction, editor Kim Richards will discuss the following topics:

What Scares You.
Beyond Blood, Guts, and Gore.
Suspension of Disbelief.
Occult in your Fiction
Characters and Character Development.
Sex in Horror.
Dialogue.
Point of View.
Accurately Portraying Action and Violence.
Promotion.
Women in Horror.
Setting the Mood.
Creating Monsters.
and more.

http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=2088

Sign up now!

My BIG announcement

My husband and I have opened a new ebook company called Damnation Books. We launch in September 2009 with twenty-five titles and are open for submissions now. You can see the guidelines at http://www.damnationbooks.com/

Damnation books wants dark fiction. Horror, dark fantasy, thrillers, paranormals, science fiction and erotica (in horror, dark fantasy, paranormal and science fiction settings). We want stort stories, novellas and novel length works.

Please check us out. If you're at KillerCon in September, we plan to host a launch party at the convention.

I'm editing my brains out.

The guide for writing paranormals is going well. Tina and I are working through the first round edits. Once we're done with that I'll be putting out the call for submissions for a similar guide on writing horror.

Death Masks in print

Death Masks is now available in a paperback version. There's a click link to Amazon on the right here. I'm thrilled.

EPICon

I'm back from EPICon and, admittedly, a bit disappointed that Death Masks didn't win an EPPIE. I've yet to recieve a bad review on it. But that is life. This is the book an agent laid out for me why she couldn't sell it so I came home and reworked it. It's also the one I wrote as horror; it got released as thriller. Many people claimed it's a thriller because it's about a serial murderer and there's no supernatural element in it. However the reviewers have for the most part called it horror. Sigh. I still have hope for the book's recognition in the Dream Realm Awards. It's been submitted. We'll see.

Because I was at EPICon, also representing Eternal Press, I was only able to sit in on two workshops. Both were great. I will definitely be restructuring this blog based on some of that advice.

The weekend was fun. I put faces to some internet names and everyone was kind to me. I got my first try at gambling. Eh, I would have rather spent the money on books. ;)

If you write and you've never been to a conference, I highly recommend that you do. I always come home inspired to write.

Death Masks is an EPPIE finalist!!

I can hardly believe it. My ebook, Death Masks, is a finalist in Category 19 - Horror in EPIC’s 2009 EPPIE Competition.

Yaaaaaay!