Fly: Welcome, Angel.
Angel: Thanks, fly. How be the day?
Fly: Good. That’z an interezting name. Mind telling uz how you got it?
Angel: I got my name from my grandmother. My parents loved it, and I love my name too! I will never forget my grandma, she was an amazing woman.
Fly: Well, you ztood true to the name too. From what I hear, you wanted to be a cardiac zurgeon initially. Zave livez iz what you’d have done. What caused the zwitch to writing?
Angel: When I start writing, I feel free and happy. The need to share my thoughts and help readers feel the way I feel made me flirt with the idea of becoming a writer. The flowers lean toward the sun, I lean toward the words, the “oxygen” every writer breathes, and I want to believe people find my stories interesting and aspiring.
Fly: If you azk me, writing haz a profound effect too, in itz own way but much more widezpread. After all, it caterz to the zoul, if not the body.
Angel: And hope where there is none.
Fly: True that. However, the genrez you write involve action, adventure and a bit of romance too. Iz it only becauze you’re interezted in zuch ztoriez or do they alzo help deliver zome mezzage you wizh to convey?
Angel: In my opinion, all books deliver messages to readers while they can also help them being aspired and more responsible. My books are not, and will never be the exception to the rule.
Fly: Let uz talk about Trapped in Timelessness. That’d be a good example of a novella that haz it all. What inzpired you to write it?
Angel: An incredible village! It was a place where I could see nothing but huge oak trees, eagles, bats, scorpions, and my angry partner (yes, she still loves me).
Fly: Nice! The ztory takez off with a chaze and frantic ezcape attemptz right from the outzet. There are all zortz of creaturez that then come into the picture - eaglez, batz et al, and each haz its own characteriztic. Which one iz your favourite, and why?
Angel: I’d say eagles. They can easily steal your attention while you keep admiring their beauty, their strength and the way they fly.
Fly: That’z great, Angel. Very innovative. But az a fly, az a fellow flying being far zmaller in zize and without zignificant zupernatural powerz, may I requezt you to go eazy on your audience? Thoze creaturez zcared the hell out of me.
Angel: Well, you are quite fascinating too! As in, you can talk, even though you can pronounce the s’s. And you read. Brainy is the new sexy, remember?
Fly: Did you just call me zexy?
Angel: Whoa! Easy now, guy. I mean, fly.
Fly: It’z okay, man. How often do people get a chance to compliment a fly? Zpeaking of which, the e-book haz been available for zome time. How haz the reception been?
Angel: I think it’s too soon to talk about it. I guess I will be able to answer your question in a few months. For now, I have to promote the book and get it out there!
Fly: And where can we find the newly launched paperback verzion?
Angel: The title will be available through Amazon and the Solstice Publishing website.
Fly: Looking forward to it! Alright, moving on then. Do you like reading other genrez too?
Fly: Zo if you had to attempt at writing a zlower, draztically different plot, what would it be like?
Angel: You will have to be patient and wait until you read my next book. I would say there’s a slower, drastically different plot.
Fly: That iz definitely zomething I’ll have my eyez on. Zo what doez Mr. Schenna like to do other than writing?
Angel: I like discovering new places, meeting new people . . .
Fly: And fliez . . .
Angel: And flies, yes.
Fly: Well, it haz been a pleazure to meet you, zir. Any upcoming work you’d like to zhare with uz?
Angel: Fly, thank you for your time. Can’t Let Go is coming very soon!
Fly: Thankz, Angel. We do look forward to it. And az alwayz, like an unzpoken promize, we leave the readerz with an excerpt from Trapped in Timelessness.
For more Author Interviewz & Book Reviewz, check out Earth.
Sara pulled her black, wet hair away from her beautiful face and wrapped her well-shaped body with a blue towel. When she got out of the bathroom, everything seemed the same as she walked around her cramped house in silence. The anxious woman took a few steps toward the living room and searched the silent home, wondering about their decision to move into a quiet village which looked like a spooky place. Soon she discovered there was nothing strange taking place in her precious shelter.
The strong wind made the large sycamores lean toward the orange tile roof and the chilly noise caused her a weird feeling as she started shaking, losing the net of safety she was striving to retain. She looked outside the kitchen window and saw that the sun was hiding behind the large mountains opposite the house. The dark had already begun covering everything she could see, and of course the naked, dry valley in front of her eyes. The fog around the lake near the house and the freezing night looked willing to accommodate the shadows of the past and destroy her peaceful life.
Sara tried to catch her breath and get past her fears as she placed her fingers on her head, looking ready to scream. She stretched out her arms to pull the curtains shut to avoid seeing outside the frightening valley when her sight locked on the cold glass of the window. I am sorry, she read and, immediately, her fingers left the soft, brown curtains from her hands and she stepped back in shock.
Impulsively, she turned on all the lights and the TV and grabbed her cell phone from the small table. The cold, white tile floor had trapped her wet footsteps on it, but she was sure she had cleaned everything and the long, white hairs there were definitely not hers. She knelt and gazed at them, feeling the cold atmosphere ready to haunt her soul.
Her body sensed the presence of something evil, and her skin turned white like the lonely clouds of optimism in the sky during the cold days of the winter. Sara looked at the window again.
“Oh my God…” she whispered as her left hand sealed her mouth.
“I’m sorry.” A skinny, naked boy stood outside the glass, looking at her. The kid was maybe four or five years old and looked like a bleeding angel.
“What, who are you?”
The unexpected guest disappeared. Sara remained on the floor, tears running down her face.
“Sara, Sara what happened?”
Rick came in the house and rushed to Sara. He knelt next to his wife and held her head in his arms, making her feel secure and loved.
“Did you see it again?” Rick asked.
Sara nodded, trying to forget what she saw earlier and for the last two days. Her husband caressed her hair and tried to calm her. He felt desperate, unable to help her overcome the dangerous games of her mind.
Rick recalled the moment they stepped into their house--two months ago--when everything seemed wonderful. They had decided to make a new beginning in the countryside since they both regarded that the exhausting, demanding life in New York City had stolen their energy, time and love. At the time they started finding their rhythms and discovering the joy of living carefree moments again, the shadows of the past came back to haunt them.
“I don’t want to live in this house anymore, Rick,” Sara said.
“That’s okay, baby, let me take care of everything,” Rick reassured her.
Bookz featuring me:
An Enlightened Fly
The Fly That Followed Me
Kalki Evian - The Ring of Khaoriphea
Malay A. Upadhyay
Gilbert Literary Agency