Haunted
Interview
1. Please tell the readers a bit about yourself.
My name is Pooja, my friends call me Pooh and I'm 15 years old, from India. I first started reading books when I was 10. I started by borrowing a book from my previous school's library. The first book I read was-- The journey to the center of the Earth and since then I am hooked to reading books.
I love to read and finish a book within two days to start with another. I've grown up reading books by Enid Blyton, Rick Riordan, Anthony Horrowitz, Christopher Paolini, L.J. Smith, R.L. Stine and more. And I usually tend to mess up while I'm writing because I'm not so fluent with English and also because it's not my first language. Irrespective of that, I love to read English novels--a lot!
2. What types of books do you write?
I write romance books, as I find it easy to express. However, I love to write horror, paranormal, action but my knowledge and vocabulary holds me back. So, Haunted will be my second try on Paranormal.
3. How many books have you written?
I've written 5 books, some on standby because I have no idea how to continue them with the same flow I had when I first started it. I have 3 stories that I'm working on at the moment. However, none of them are completed.
4. What movie and/or book are you looking forward to this year?
I'm looking forward to reading- The Blood Of Olympus by Rick Riordan which, I think, will be the last book in the The Heroes of Olympus Series. As this is year is already coming to an end I'm dying to watch Fast and Furious 7 which may release next year-- 2014.
5. What type of books do you enjoy reading?
I love reading books that contain suspense, action, thriller, adventure and paranormal. Books that keep me excited and the craving to know more.
On Wattpad, I like reading Romance as many of such genre books are written by teenagers like me and it'll be like an experience to know what today's generation of teenagers are capable of in writing and many have surprised me-- in a good way. :)
6. If you were stranded on a desert island what 3 things would you want with you?
1. An iPod (with a battery that never gets over-- if such do exist)
2. Books
3. FOOD and plenty of water!
7. Are you considering a sequel?
It depends on how the story ends. If the readers enjoy it and want to know what happens after the story ends then I may make a sequel to it.
8. What inspired you to become a writer?
I love to read books and not once did the point cross my mind to write a story of my own. That was until I discovered Wattpad, recommended by a friend on Twitter. She wanted me to read and tell her how I liked the story, since then I started reading more books on Wattpad and was surprised to know that it was written by teenagers like me.
Inspiration kicked in when I read The Payne Killer. It gave me an idea to create my own story. Since then I let my imagination take control and express itself, that let me into new bases of writing. And I would get these wonderful ideas only when I'm going to sleep or in shower.
By the time I step out to jot it down, I wont even remember what the base of the story was. I usually mess up with my tenses, grammar and stuff, but I believe that experience is the best teacher. :)
Excerpt
“I wish I could listen to your morning voice every time we talk,” she whispers, nibbling on my ear lobe.
I flip to face her and wrap my arms around her bare waist pulling her closer, until our bodies left no gap in between.
“I could do that,” I reply, and pull her beneath me as I hover above her. She giggles like a little kid and locks her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.
I oblige and stick my tongue out, licking her jaw line and turn towards the soft spot I’ve known on her neck to plant a small hickey.
“You’re something, Harry,” she whispers, tilting her head towards the side giving me full access to her neck.
I smile at her remark when a cold sensation jolts me out. I pull away and fall down the bed, with her laughter ringing above me as I struggle with the tangled blankets. She repeatedly calls my name, “Harry, Harry.”
My eyes flutter open into the bright light emerging from the window in front of me as the cold sensation springs on my back again.
“Harry,” a familiar voice calls.
“What just happened?” I question, taking in my surrounding and shaking my head vigorously as droplets of cold-water fall down my curls.
“You wouldn’t wake up and had this goofy smile on your face, I had to do it.” The person shrugs, waving an empty mug in front of me.
“Had to do it by pouring cold water over me?” I ask, crossly.
“It worked, what were you dreaming about?” the person asks, kneeling beside me, when I finally take his appearance. It was Colton.
“Whatever,” I reply and stand up, pulling off my wet t-shirt and shove it to the other end.
“What were you dreaming about?” he speaks after a long pause.
“Why do you ask?” I question and turn towards my wardrobe and pull out a black shirt.
“You were constantly smiling like an idiot,” he says, and I notice the smirk in his words, “…probably a girl?”
“I was thinking about cupcakes,” I reply without thinking and Colton bursts out laughing.
“Sure,” he says and walks out, giving me my peace of time.
After a quick shower, I meet Colton downstairs for breakfast. He was sitting on the couch, breathing out a cloud of smoke whilst talking on the phone.
I serve myself to a cigar and settle on the sofa next to Colton.
“Did you hear about Daniel?” he asks.
“Yes, it was very unfortunate though.” I reply, scrunching my nose as I tried to remember the pale faced, black haired friend of mine back in high school, “I don’t understand. How could that happen?”
“His girlfriend said he had a heart attack, so did the doctors.”
“He had an unfortunate death, when’s the funeral?” I couldn’t do anything, but grieve at my friend’s death.
“It is around 5PM, be there, at least this time,” he states, firmly.
I answer with a nod and place my cigar into the ashtray, leaning towards the headrest of the couch and closed my eyes.
Laughter cringes into my ear and I flutter my eyes open, looking into my surroundings searching for the voice’s owner. There was nothing but silence. I turned to Colton, who was busy smoking yet another cigarette. I shake my head and close my eyes again.
Laughter erupts into my head again and I sit straight on my seat and turn towards Colton, “You hear that?” I ask.
“Hear what?” he questions back. He couldn’t hear the laughter, how was that possible!
I shake my head, “Nothing.” I lean back onto the couch back and close my eyes for the third time.
The same laughter rings into my ears and I fall to the conclusion that it was just my head, playing different emotions, including the laughter.
Laughter of a girl, I knew.
The laughter rings louder into my ears, and a smile creeps its way onto my lips as I drain in the memory of the voice’s owner. Suddenly, the voice croaks and faints into small sobs. The sobs become louder, until, words begin to form, “Harry, please,” in a moments’ time the sobs turn into loud screams as the voice shouts, “Harry!”
I jolt awake and shake my head vigorously and my curls fall all over forehead. I swipe them away and turn to a worried looking Colton, “You alright, Harry?” he asks.
“Need some fresh air,” I say, and get up and clumsily walk outside, into the cold November air.
I skip my way towards the Cadillac standing on the porch avoiding the convertible that—still unfortunately —haunted me.
I get into the car and drive out into the open. I stretch my arms outside the window and let the cool air take the suffocation off me for some time.
The laughter, memories and everything of my past seemed inevitable and threatening, it was as if I would lose my emotional balance any moment.
I stop my car into an empty car park and slam my fists onto the steering wheel, frustrated. I needed a break, from her, her memories and my conscious guilt.
I was in time for the funeral, in fact; I was half an hour early. Daniel and I sure did break out on bad terms 4 years ago, but that didn’t stop me from visiting his death ceremony, even if he didn’t stay alive for sharing apologies, and those sweet memories of college times.
However, I wasn’t prepared to meet the sight of his family’s condition. His girlfriend was crying, leaning on to Daniel’s sister’s shoulder while his mother stood there, staring at the ground, with a deep aura of sadness and grief surrounding her.
Any moment now, I knew she was going to break down. I walked towards her and she lifted her head to look at me. She gave me a weak smile before she lost her balance and fell. I took hold of her and she dug her face into my shirt, weeping.
I stroked her head softly and muttered soothing words, or I tried to, “He’s not going anywhere, he shall always be with us, in our heart.”
What killed me in the inside was the cause of his sudden death, a heart attack? Daniel stopped drinking 4 years ago—that’s what I think—and he never smoked. He was the like those guys who always had a healthy diet and went to gym regularly. What could possibly go wrong?
Daniel’s sister—Rosemary, took her mother in her arms as she let me walk towards the grave.
I read the words softly, “Daniel Rolleston, 1977-2000.”
