Hello and welcome. I’d like you to meet a lovely author, Trish Marie Dawson. Trish has published several novels: I Hope You Find Me (which I’ve just finished reading, look out for the review coming up shortly), Dying To Forget and Once Upon a Twisted Time (in collaboration with Lindsay Avalon, Tara Stogner Wood and Miranda Stork).
Trish was born and raised mostly in San Diego, California, where she lives now with her family and pets. She’s been writing short stories and poetry since high school after an obsession with Stephen King’s ‘The Stand’. After over fifteen years of crazy dreams and an overactive imagination, Trish began her first book ‘I Hope You Find Me’ in December of 2011. When Trish isn’t writing, she’s homeschooling her amazing daughter and mildly autistic son, reading whatever she can get her hands on, or enjoying the Southern California sun. As a strict Vegetarian, Trish holds a special place in her heart for animal rights and dashes into the backyard weekly to rescue lizards and mice from her mini-lab/cocker spaniel mixed dog, Zoey…who is always getting into some sort of trouble.
Book 2 of The Station Series (Dying To Remember) is currently underway, and due out before the end of 2012.
Book 2 of The Find Me Series (Lost & Found) is also currently underway and due out in early 2013.
Trish has also written an Anthology novella with three other talented writers for a Halloween 2012 release, called ‘Hawke & the Beast’ – part of the ‘Once Upon A Twisted Time’ Anthology through Moon Rose Publishing.
As Dying to Remember is next book out, we thought it would be a good idea to tell you more about The Station Series.
This is what DYING TO FORGET is all about (be sure to check out the excerpt, too):
Piper Willow dies the summer after her high school graduation but she doesn’t make it to Heaven or Hell…instead she finds herself in a spiritual terminal called the Station. She’s given only two choices: Return to Earth as the subconscious for a person in need of some outside assistance, or move on and spend an eternity lost in her own sorrow and pain.
Does Piper have what it takes to save a life – to be the nagging voice inside someone else’s head – or will she fail and end up lost and tormented in limbo…forever?
DYING TO FORGET excerpt:
I groan at the bright light behind my closed eyes, hoping that if I squeeze my lids tight enough the light won’t get through. It doesn’t work. What am I lying on? I’m flat on my back, on something hard and…cold. Where am I? Oh no. It didn’t work. I’m in the hospital! Crap. With that thought my eyes fly wide open and I bolt upright. Disoriented from the blinding glow around me, I almost fall off a bench.
I steady myself, gripping the edge of the cool marble surface as I swing my naked legs slowly around until my feet touch the ground. I jerk them upwards immediately, surprised by how cold the ground is. Everywhere I look it’s the same white light. I can’t tell if I’m inside or outside and my stomach clenches with anxiety.
“Hello?” I whisper at first.
The sound of my small voice echoes softly around me, but no one responds. I’m hesitant to place my bare feet on the ground again which oddly feels like glass, but I do, and though it’s still cold the initial shock wears off quickly. Slowly and cautiously, I stand up and my hair cascades around my shoulders, loose, clean and smelling like…grapefruit? I reach up to touch it and run my hand along the smooth strands. When I went to bed my hair was not this clean. What’s going on?
“Hello, is anyone there?”
After hearing no response, I step away from the hard bench and turn in a semi-circle…nothing to see but the dazzling whiteness. I can’t tell where the top meets the bottom of the room…if it is a room I’m standing in. I reach up to rub my arm unconsciously and gasp as I realize not only are my bandages gone but my cuts are healed. I hold my forearm up to my face and rub my hand along my skin. It’s soft and smooth…scar-free. What the hell? This is when I start to panic. Tears build up in my eyes and I open my mouth to scream but a gentle male voice behind me startles me into silence.
I whirl around to see a middle-aged man with grey hair smiling politely at me. The first thing I notice is his outdated clothing. He’s wearing a blue argyle sweater vest with a long-sleeved white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and pleated brown trousers with matching loafers. I gape at him, sure that I don’t know him while he nods sympathetically at me. He’s holding a metal clipboard and he taps one of his fingers down on it before speaking again.
“You are Piper Willow, yes?” He raises one of his bushy eyebrows at me.
I tug at the bottom hem of my long tank top, wishing I was wearing more than my pajamas. I feel exposed and naked standing before this stranger. He seems to relax a bit after I answer and he thrusts a hand out in front of him for me to shake. I take it weakly, letting him pump my arm twice.
“Piper, my name is Niles…Niles Abbott. And I need you to come with me please.”
He smiles his gentle smile again and even though I don’t know him, I feel…safe. My feet make soft sounds on the cold, glassy surface of the ground as I follow the strange man through the blinding light. How he can see where he’s going, I have no idea. I stay close behind him, afraid that if he gets too far ahead of me, I will lose sight of him.
“Excuse me, Niles…I mean, Mr. Abbott. But, where are we?”
“I’ll explain everything to you dear, just as soon as we reach the Station.” His answer attempts to be reassuring. His patient voice is calm and matter-of-fact but I’m not comforted, not in the least.
“What station? We aren’t in the hospital? Where’s my Dad?”
My last question comes out barely above a whisper as I struggle not to cry. Niles startles me as he turns around and smiles, obviously aware of information I don’t have yet.
“No Piper, this isn’t the hospital, and your father is at home…he’s fine. Please, follow me.”
He turns away and continues on through the light. I hang my head, staring at my bare feet as we walk. Even though my cuts are gone, I keep rubbing my arm. It’s soothing. I almost bump into Niles when he stops abruptly.
“We’re here,” he says softly.
I look up to see a long and rusty metal gate, entwined with flowering vines and two giant redwood trees standing at each end, like towering guards. I stare at the massive trunks in awe. I’ve never seen a tree so tall before. The redwoods reach up so high that the tops dissolve into the surrounding incandescence. Niles steps aside and gestures for me to approach the gate.
“Ladies first.” He smiles.
I think I blush in embarrassment as I pass him and step up to the large gate with trepidation. I have no idea how to open it but I place my hands on it and it glides easily to the side. I push harder until there is enough room for both me and Niles to pass through, grinning wildly at him as if I’ve discovered the cure to cancer while he nods at me in approval. After he steps in behind me, I tug on the gate to close it. It easily slides into place with a satisfying clank.
The blinding white light is muted but not gone. As I turn around I find myself in a courtyard of sorts. I can’t see the sky, but I guess that we are outside. There are several sterile looking buildings lined up in a curved row, facing us. I gape at them as I read the simple block letters printed above the doors.
The Admissions Department is the largest building and it sits just in front of us. To the right is the Training Department and next to that is a much smaller building labeled “Staff Only”. On the other side of the Admissions building is an equally impressive structure…Consignment Department…according to the sign. A smaller building sits on the far end and I think I see children running around inside it. What is this place? I so badly want answers. I can’t see beyond the buildings…there just seems to be a wall of white behind them, though not as blinding as where I woke up.
“Where am I?” I ask Niles, still sweeping my eyes across the buildings and the people moving in and out of them. And there are a lot of people. Hundreds, I think…maybe even more.
“Piper, this is the Station. I’m your Intake Specialist.”
“Intake Specialist?” I whisper, not understanding. At all.
He gestures for me to walk beside him and I match his slow pace as we stroll around an immense water fountain that takes up a good amount of space between the gate and the Admissions Department building. Despite its significant size, the design is simple. It’s the blue tile that I find so attractive. I gaze at the rim, wide enough to use as a seat, and the inside of the fountain…following the turquoise tile that rolls up and down in a wave pattern. It’s breathtaking and for a moment I forget completely that Niles is talking to me.
“Piper? Are you listening? It’s important that you hear me now.” His voice is gentle, not at all authoritative. I nod at him, embarrassed.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” He points at a marble bench very much like the one I awoke on.
“Is this place real?” I ask Niles as I sit down. The marble feels cool against the back of my thighs.
“Of course it is.” He laughs softly, before his expression turns serious. “Piper, what is the last thing you remember?”
“Remember?” I scrunch my face together as I struggle to remember something…anything. My memories feel fuzzy and faraway at first, but slowly, as if a fog lifts from my mind, I begin to see my bedroom. The pale purple walls that hadn’t been painted since I was fourteen come into focus….and my bedspread…I see the yellow quilt with its pink border and myself lying motionless in my bed.
“I remember my bedroom,” I say quietly, as a feeling of dread spreads through my body.
Niles’ full head of grey hair moves slowly with an empathic nod. “Yes, your bedroom,” he pauses to look up at me before taking my hand into his. “It’s where you died, dear.”
10 Quick-Fire Questions with Trish Marie Dawson
If you liked what you saw, feel free to stalk Trish Marie through one of the links below:
Amazon Author Page – http://www.amazon.com/author/writertrishmariedawson
Facebook Author Page – http://www.facebook.com/WriterTrishMarieDawson
Twitter – https://twitter.com/Trish_Dawson
Blog – http://writertrishmdawson.wordpress.com/