I am going to be perfectly honest with you, this book trailer was not as easy to do as the other one. Maybe that was because the other one was an experiment, and this one feels vital–not that InBs wasn’t. There is just something about Walking–and I hope you will see it when you read it.
Finally I sat down and re-thought out the whole trailer. I started thinking of a scene that really struck me, and then I wrote a script–this time I wrote the trailer from the main character’s point of view. I thought about a moment that had blazed into her mind, and then I went into photographer mode. I started ordering my husband around–telling him what to wear and to get his butt out the door. So, you get to get a very vague peak at my amazingly, awesome, extraordinarily gorgeous husband… who composed the music to this trailer, and thinks its awful (please tell him otherwise!)
What else am I giving you a peak at? The scene that inspired the trailer…
Oh, and PS I am launching the giveaway on goodreads for 3 PROOF signed copies of the novel and bookmarks, as now you all know the release date!
I swallowed and took one last look at the row of candles before I stood and replaced the unlit stick into the holder. When I turned Tad came into view, and I jumped in surprise. He was at the entrance, his arms crossed and his lips in a solid line, “You know you’re supposed to light the candles with that right?”
“Does each one represent a lost soul?” I asked as I looked over my shoulder at the candles that flickered against the dreary church walls.
“Not necessarily, but each represents a prayer,” Tad replied, walking forward with his hands in his pockets.
“This was supposed to make me feel better,” I said as I sat at the pew and stared at the candles, “but it doesn’t.”
“How do you feel?” Tad asked as he sat beside me.
“Empty…like I always do when I think of them.”
“You should be reminded of the good times and pleasant memories.”
“The horror of seeing their blank faces staring at me lifeless has ruined it,” I whispered, putting my head in my hands and wishing to push those images away.
“You must have some good memories?” Tad asked, rubbing my back.
“Tad they were too young to die…My Mom was a spitfire—a total accident waiting to happen. I’m like her—I can trip over nothing,” Tad chuckled, acknowledging the thought, “My father…he was more serious. He used to give me lectures like no tomorrow, he had a strong sense of who I should be—who I wanted to be and how to guide me, and he was my best friend. It seems like everything I love is just out of my reach now.”
Tad pulled me into his arms tight, and I breathed in his cologne to try to calm down the rapid thump of my heart. For once it wasn’t because of him, but because of the guilt that filled every part of me.
“I can’t do it. When it goes out—they will still be dead,” I explained.
“A candle can’t bring back a life; I never suggested that. It will only honor their memory,” he said, his voice muffled by my hair.
“How? It will only flicker out and die like they did—like the good memories did,” I said, looking up into his face.
Tad slipped his hand into mine and led me back up to the flickering candles. He lit the match stick with another candle and handed it to me, but my hand was shaking too much to control the flame. Tad placed his hand over mine and guided my hand to the candles. He let go of my hand and took the match stick, shaking it until it turned black.
I sat down in the pew and took a deep breath, “I have nightmares that they come for me.”
I was not prepared for the laughter that burst out of his mouth, and I looked up at him in shock. He tried to cover his smile, “I’m sorry Vera, it just sounds so—“
I cut him off as I stood with my blood icy in my veins, “Vampires exist in my world. Some psychopath decided that sucking the life out of a person is a fun hobby. Guess what Tad? I had to stare at my murdered parents, had to run away from my past. You’re the only person who knows and you can stand here and laugh?” I yelled, and I ran out the door with him trailing behind knowing that he would have to stop at the threshold. I looked over my shoulder to see him with his head in his hands and his shoulders tensed with an emotion I was unsure of. I knew he hadn’t meant to laugh, and it was not so much the laugh, but the fact he had to stop at the door that upset me. No matter how close Tad and I were, we could not, would not be together. The hole where my heart had finally grown back after the loss of my parents was returning because of the very person who had filled the void.
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COPYRIGHT 2012, CASSANDRA GIOVANNI
IN NO WAY MAY ANY OF THIS MATERIAL BE COPIED OR USED WITHOUT MY SOLE PERMISSION. IT IS ILLEGAL TO DO SO, AND PUNISHABLE BY LAW.