Happy Book Birthday!!!
Krystal Jane Ruin
Publication date: November 1st 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
For the last five years, Fawn has been the star soprano of a secluded opera house, forced to sing for her kidnapper.
His daughter, Devi, waits patiently in the shadows, hiding a face so horrible that no one who’s seen it will look at it again.
As Fawn plots her escape, whispers spread through the shaded corridors of dark sorcery, warning her that she must flee by the next opening night.
But when Fawn draws close to the exit, it’s Devi who’s standing in her way, leading Fawn to suspect that Devi has something to gain if she fails.
(a dark reimagining of Swan Lake)
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Why paranormal and what other genres are you interested in writing?
-I’ve always been drawn to dark stories. Some of my first memories are of me trying to scare myself for some reason. Haha. My writing tastes have always been a lot more narrow than my reading tastes. But I would like to experiment with some dark historical fantasy and supernatural horror. I might talk myself into trying another high fantasy story one day.
If you were a teacher, what subject would you teach?
-Shakespearean Drama! But I’d also be happy to do plain Shakespeare or plain Drama. Either one of those would be most up my alley. If a class existed that was dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe, I’d also be interested in that.
If you could live in any novel, which one would you choose and why?
-Is it weird if I say I want to live in Middle Earth? I read The Hobbit a long time ago, but I’ve only recently watched all the movies, and I’m obsessed with them! I hate the thought of giant spiders and trolls and orcs, but I wouldn’t leave Hobbiton anyway, and I think I’d love it there. Also, no creatures there. Bonus. (I mean, if Gandalf was with me, I might could be talked into going on an adventure.)
Are you a plotter, panster, or hybrid writer?
-I often pants the beginnings of stories or pants my outline as I write, but I always have a clear plan and direction I’m going in. That said, I have to have a finished outline at some point. It helps me remember little details better, and I write faster with one, as well.
What is your mutant power?
-Freezing everything! Don’t ask what for. I have a long-standing fantasy of water manipulation, and I would just love that. In my head, it’s like a cross between Ice Man and Storm. Ice Storm anyone? No?
What three movies would you take to a deserted island to watch over and over again for a year?
-Easiest question ever. The Little Mermaid, Clueless, and The Craft. They are my favorite top three movies of all time, but I feel sorry for anyone who knows me after returning from such a trip. I have a really bad habit of quoting movies, and I’d likely have them all completely memorized by then.
What inspired you to write WINTER’S SIREN?
-Usually, this is the hardest question ever, but I love fairy tales, I love retellings, and I love the theatre: ballet, musicals, opera. My love of theatre directly influenced the direction of this story. You don’t want to know what it looked like before.
The musicians set up in the orchestra pit and start warming up. The off-key kaleidoscope of music rises into the warm and stuffy air. I stand on the back edge of the stage, watching dust motes drift down from the rafters.
The first rehearsal. Time is dwindling much too quickly.
The urge to run for it is imprinted on my bones. But my jailer waits for me nearby in the darkness, like always. I know from experience how quick he is.
Muted footsteps sound from behind me. I spin around and force a wide grin on my face, expecting Dillion. I find Andrew instead, and my forced smile melts into a real one.
“You’re here.” I scan the shadows behind him, but there’s no sign of Devi. He came alone. Good. I was afraid he might have run off to spend some time with the little monster. “I missed you at dinner. I hope you can join us next time.”
He returns my smile with a warm one of his own. “I can certainly try.” His eyes roam the backstage area. Parts of old sets are tucked away close to the walls, collecting dust. Parts of new sets sit drying in the middle of the room. The thick scent of latex paint sticks to everything.
“Where did you run off to earlier?” I ask. “I am sorry to have scared you away.”
His smile starts to fade. “You didn’t scare me. I just . . . worry about her.”
Irritation punches me in the ribs. “Yes, I worry about her as well. She’s so guarded. It’s so hard to get close to her.” My throat tightens. Why do you even care?
A haunted look passes through his eyes. “Yes, it is.” He clears his throat. “Is this the first official rehearsal? Are you excited?”
Excited is not a word I would use about anything pertaining to my life. “Yes, very much. I love the new music. It’s so emotive and beautiful.”
“I can’t wait to hear it.” His gaze flickers past me to someone on the stage.
I turn and see Dillion standing on the other end, surrounded by singers and dancers, watching us, his expression guarded. He nods when he catches us staring and turns to say something to the dancer closest to him. They both laugh.
“You and Dillion seem like you’re getting along well.” Andrew’s gaze shifts back to my face.
I wave his comment away. “Yes. Viktor wants me to make him feel welcome and special. It’s all very shallow, though.” I watch him closely and decide to test the waters on his end. “I’d much rather spend that time with you.”
Krystal is the author of supernatural and paranormal fiction, living in the Tennessee Valley with a collection of swords and daggers. When she’s not hoarding stuffed pandas, hourglasses, and Hello Kitty replicas, she can be found in YouTube hole or blogging about books, writing, and random things at KrystalSquared.net.
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