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Excerpt:
Luna woke to a tapping sound coming from her closet. She knew closets weren’t supposed to make tapping sounds. She also knew that’s where monsters hid, in the back of dark closets or under your bed. Maybe that’s where aliens hid, too—waiting to catch you in your sleep.
The silvery light spilling through her parted curtains and pooling on the floor did little to soften the shadows. Through the gloom, she could see the outline of her closet. The door was shut. She cast a wary glance at the windowsill and the visible line of salt that gleamed in the faint moonlight. The salt was undisturbed, her window still closed against the night.
Tap, tap, tap.
She ducked under the covers and scooted to the far side of the bed. Tucked into the corner with her back pressed against the wall, she peeked out from under the blanket, her eyes glued to the closet.
Tap, tap, tap. The sound came again, swiftly followed by the soft click of the closet door as it started to inch open.
As she lay there, huddled in the darkness, too scared to breathe, a tall shadow, darker than the shades of night in which it had hidden, slowly stepped forward. Its red eyes reminded her of Aunt Dani’s cawing raven, the one with eyes like fire that scared you when you walked in the door. But these eyes were worse. Bright red flames surrounded a pupil an even deeper shade of red. And they were looking straight at her.
Frozen in fear, she watched as it glided closer, its footfalls silent, its eyes terrible and bright.
“Hello, little doll,” it whispered.
Luna couldn’t tell if the thing had a mouth, for its entire face was black except for its terrifying eyes, but she heard the words just the same. A little voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to move, but it was too late, the thing was now between her and the door.
She remembered the bowl of salt on the nightstand next to her bed and finding her voice, tried to be brave.
“I am not a doll.”
“Oh, sweet child,” it sighed as it stepped into the puddle of moonlight, impossibly tall and darker than the nighttime shadows, “I shall make you my little doll. That’s all you’ll ever be.”
Its long arms ended in hooked fingers that looked as sharp as claws. Beneath eyes of flame ran a jagged slit where its mouth should be, as if someone had tried to draw a mouth, but had gotten it all wrong.
The scream that had been building for some time in the back of Luna’s throat finally worked its way free as the creature reached for her, talons grasping, eyes of flame leaping in the night.
She lunged for the salt next to her bed. Flinging the bowl itself at the creature, her eyes widened as it sailed right through it as if were truly just a shadow. Grains of salt flew through the air as the bowl shattered violently against the hardwood floor.
The creature jerked its head in the direction of her mother’s room and stared, its slash of a mouth widening into a gaping smile that made her stomach hurt. She could hear her mother’s footsteps racing down the hall.
Its head swiveled back in her direction, eyes alight with fire as its hideous smile somehow grew. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Interview with . . . Katrina Kimball . . .
How would you describe your style of writing to someone that has never read your work?
I’m big on prose – if I had the patience to write a novel in verse, I’d probably do that, but I don’t so I won’t. The English language can be beautiful, when used artfully – that’s what I aim for (and woefully sometimes fall short of). I’d say I write in bold and vivid strokes, emphasizing emotional depth.
Do you feel that writing is an ingrained process or just something that flows naturally for you?
I’ve loved books since I was old enough to hold them but didn’t turn to writing my own until age 39. When I first got the idea to write a book, I remember thinking, “You haven’t written anything creative in decades, what are you thinking?” So, I read a book on writing, wrote a mediocre short story (I still kind of love it though), and signed up for a Master Class taught by a famous author. And then one morning, while I was working on the master class material, I realized that all of this was great, but it was also procrastinating, and that I just needed to write the damn story.
I knew the main idea for the story, but I didn’t know how it ended (I had an ending in mind but wasn’t sure that’s how the story would actually go once I started writing it). The characters became clearer to me as I wrote. I didn’t know a lot of what happened in between the beginning and the end of the story, I just sat down to write and out the story came, one chapter at a time. Keep in mind, the first draft of Transcendence was a mess, but I didn’t realize it at the time. It took me shelving it for 3 months and coming back to it with fresh eyes to realize it.
The point of my rambling here is this: I believe that when we are doing something with passion, that lights us up inside, we inevitably tap into an innate ability to do that thing, whatever it is. Practice makes perfect (whatever that is), we hopefully learn something useful along the way, and we define our own process on how we ‘do the thing.’
Have you found yourself bonding with any particular character(s)? If so, which one(s)?
When I introduced the character of Mrs. Bates in Transcendence, I had no idea the hold that woman would have on me, nor how integral she would become to the story. As who she was became clearer to me, I became fascinated with her backstory, why she was the way she was (we can call her cold and rude), and what she used to be like. Her tale of loss intrigued me, and I empathized with her. She’s probably my favorite character in Transcendence.
Can you share your next creative project(s)? If yes, can you give a few details?
I’m currently working on the sequel to Transcendence, titled Convergence. Transcendence doesn’t end on a cliff hanger, but it leaves open a second story line, and that’s what I take up in Convergence. The story focuses on two side characters, Linda and Mrs. Bates, the messiness of their relationship, and how what happened between them 30 years ago ties into events kicking off at the end of Transcendence. I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for the crusty old Mrs. Bates and I’m enjoying telling her tale of woe. I hope to finish Convergence by the end of the year.
If you could go ANYWhere, money is not a concern, and spend one full year. Where would you go and what would you do with this time?
I’d go to the U.K. I’d tour castles, old churches, and neolithic sites and think I’d died and gone to heaven. I’d do my best to touch every ancient standing stone I could find, and dance with the ghosts of the ancestors who placed them. I’d spend time on the coast of Scotland, listening to the lament of the waves. I’d write for hours on end listening to the rhythm and roar of the sea. I’d fall in love with it there and apply for citizenship, never to return.
Author Website https://www.katrinakimball.com/novels
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kimkatwrites/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/Katrina-Kimball-61565177587429/
Rowan Prose Publishing: https://www.rowanprosepublishing.com/katrinakimball
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/222448865-transcendence
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