fuonlyknew

Candy Crone

The Hawthorne University Witch Series Book 8

By A.L. Hawke

Genre: Paranormal Holiday Fantasy

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“Cadence! Cadence!”

Bryce and I spin around in the direction of the shouting. That was Cat’s voice! I’m forced to squint as the sun’s rays open again through a gap in the trees. But then Cat stops crying for help.

Light shines over our dirt path, winding through the trees, and I see more breadcrumbs strewn along the ground. I don’t follow the path. Instead, I walk off the trail and start gathering large fallen branches in the bushes. I pile the thickest ones and start forming a five-pointed star.

“What are you doing, Katie?” Bryce asks.

“I don’t know. I remember doing this in my dream. All this happened before, in the dream…or…I foresaw it happening. You and I first spotted breadcrumbs. So I built this sigil as a signal and as a refuge during the nightmare. I think the headmaster’s right, this witch is very powerful. She, or whoever’s possessing her, is attacking us with powerful magic. I feel like I have to build this circle for protection.”

And I drag another stick along the ice, forming a circle surrounding my pentagram. Then I gesture at my work.

Bryce nods, but then he freaks me out when he covers his eyes, squinting over my left shoulder. Turning in the direction of his gaze, I see a bright golden glow. The light is heralding a small cottage among the trees. The breadcrumb trail ends at a walkway surrounding the cottage, which has two windows with shutters and a chimney. It’s as if the cottage has always been there, hidden in the woods. Two large red poles with white stripes by the entrance appear to be the size of people. They look like huge peppermint candy canes. And beside the peppermint sticks, in the snow, are two gingerbread-like statues about half my height. The top of one of the peppermint sticks forms the outline of a girl’s face. But her expression is frozen, motionless, like a statue. An icy pathway of shiny red and green candy tiles leads to the front door. The door and the shutters are composed of a brown cake-like substance. Gingerbread? White patches on the walls form a thick plaster. On the plaster brush marks stick out in sections, reminding me of frosting. Soft red and green gems embedded in the white plaster, covered in crystalized sugar kernels, reflect the golden sunlight. Gumdrops or sugar plums. Chocolatey-brown drippings fall from the rooftops, draining into chocolate pools. And the roof is made of a cinnamon red candy–like surface.

We walk slowly along the candy path. Bryce runs a finger along the white plaster beside the door. It’s not solid, and it’s not plaster, it’s like a thick white goo.

“Frosting?” Bryce asks me with a nervous chuckle.

I nod and run my finger along the wall too. I bring the goo to my nose. It smells so sweet and delicious.

“This has to stop,” snaps Bryce. “This sick witch is controlling us like in a fairy tale. And . . . I feel drowsy, as if I’m dreaming, Kate. I think she’s putting a spell on us.”

How can she not be? We’re standing in front of a gingerbread house.

I nab a large crystalized green gumdrop the size of my palm, stuck to the white frosting, and bite into it. It tastes so good! It’s soft, full of granules of sugar, with a wonderful tangy sweet lime. And the best part is the consistency. The gob sticks in my mouth like chewing gum.

“Cadence, what are you doing!”

He tries to snatch it from my fingers, but I pull it away. I don’t know why I’m eating it, but I am. It’s like I’m compelled to eat it. But it tastes sooo good. I don’t know how Bryce is stopping himself. I’m so hungry.

“It tastes really good, Bryce,” I say with my mouth full. “Wow. You should try some.” Then I dip it in some of the wall plaster and offer him some. “Try it, babe. Just take a bite.”

“Growly, growler. Growly, growler.”

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Do you write one book at a time or do you have several going at a time? 

If I’m really into a particular project, it becomes all encompassing. I prefer one book at a time but it doesn’t always work out that way. And lately, I also work on converting books to audio at the same time.

What made you want to become an author and do you feel it was the right decision?

I always had ideas in my head about writing. I think I always wanted to be a storyteller my whole life.

Advice you would give new authors? 

Take a look at other books in your interested genre. Learn from other writers by looking at what’s been written before. And do it for the fun of writing, not for the dollar. At an average cost of $3.99 per ebook, just doing the math, this isn’t a job making writers rich. You really have to love it for the craft.

Describe your writing style. 

I think my books are very dialog-heavy. It’s funny because I’ve heard the opposite. Some say they were impressed with my descriptive writing, but I really feel like most of the time I’m using description as a scaffold for conversation. I’m letting the characters run the show. So, reality comes in the form of dialog. It’s what breathes life into my characters.

What makes a good story? 

Something engrossing.

What are you currently reading? 

I’m reading It Ends with Us. Heard of it? ☺ I’m giving that book a whirl.

What is your writing process? For instance do you do an outline first? Do you do the chapters first? 

No outlines. My characters shape what happens.

Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want? 

That’s a good question. It’s a mix. If I feel like something is successful, like my witch series has been, then I want to spend my time working with my success. That’s why I’ve written so many books in the series. But I write some books outside of my typical genre. And I like to take chances. It’s part of being an “artist” not a marketer. Because indie writers tend to be on different sides of that spectrum.

How long on average does it take you to write a book? 

I can write about four pages an hour. I’m very prolific and can bust out a novel in a couple of weeks. The editing process can take longer, but, in many ways editing is more gratifying. There’s no blank pages staring at you. Or you’re not looking at page count and thinking “man, I’ve only got another hundred pages to go.”

Do you believe in writer’s block? 

Absolutely. I suffer from it all the time. But, for me, it’s not a blank page. I can write pages upon pages, but it’s a sense that I’m struggling to get work out. If the story comes easy, it’s so much more of a pleasure and I know it’s going to be good.

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