Description
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About the author:
Tori Wilson is a young author who began her writing career at only nineteen years old. She is now twenty one years old and has had three books published. Tori lives in a small town and is attending college, majoring in art education. In her free time, she enjoys singing, dancing, painting, modeling Japanese fashion at local anime conventions, and studying foreign languages. Tori's latest book, The Skeleton Lady, is a romantic suspense filled with action-packed twists and turns.
What inspired you to write your book?
I got the inspiration for this book when I was only fourteen years old and was dealing with depression. I needed to find a way to express the emotions I was feeling, and so the Skeleton Lady became a sort of human embodiment of the pain I was in.
Here is a short sample from the book:
"My, dear, you look awful," the Skeleton Lady says, walking into the room with a look of mock pity on her face. "Thanks," I say, looking at her with as much hatred on my face as I can manage in my current state. The Skeleton Lady shakes her head and clucks her tongue, walking towards me. "My dear, Allison, that is not the attitude of a proper young lady," she says, swinging her hand backwards and then slapping me with it as hard as she can. "AAHHHH!" I cry out in pain as new welts quickly begin to form on my already pain-stricken face. "A young lady does not scream," she says calmly, slapping me again. I clench my teeth tightly and my eyes water from the pain. "Now be a good girl and say you're sorry," she says, moving so that her terrifying, snow white face is just inches from mine.
I take the opportunity to spit in her face. "Fine," she says, wiping the spit off of her face. "I was just trying to help you," she says, standing up straight again. "Help me how?" I say, teeth clenched. "Well, Oliver will never love you the way you are now." "Oliver?" "Yes. I've been studying the two of you for… quite a while now. I see how you look at him, the love that's shining in your eyes… but you're too rough around the edges, my dear. Oliver has always liked sweet, beautiful girls, soft and demure. The fact of the matter, Kayte, is that you are ugly. Your features are too sharp and you're too outspoken. Really, I'm only trying to help you."
"Oliver," I mumble, suddenly thinking of him. I remember his shaggy brown hair his mom used to beg him to cut, his deep olive green eyes, his long nose that's somehow still cute, his thin lips I always wanted to kiss… Then I think of myself. I think about how rough and brash and pushy I am, how short and ugly my hair is, how I don't look like the girls in the magazines and how Oliver has never looked at me the way he looks at the other girls- the pretty smiling girls who aren't broken down, fighting a war inside their head…
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