Who is Trent Miller? A Character
Interview
By now, you’ve heard all about Melinda James’ unearthly
and harrowing life. Now, you can find out about just who Trent Miller is and
what he has to do with Melinda’s craziness and his forays into the dark side.
Trent Miller is here with me today. He agreed
to answer some questions and explain why he’s journeying into Hell.
So,
without further ado, let me introduce you to Trent Miller:
QueenWriter
(QW): Trent, I've asked this
same question of Melinda. Who are you?
Trent
Miller (TM): Just as Melinda was, I was
created by Starr Gardinier. Some say I was put on Earth to help Melinda with her
plight. Others argue that I’m the cause of the dangerous paranormal occurrences
and what’s about to happen to Melinda.
QW: So, are you here to help or hinder?
TM: For
reasons even unknown to me, I guess I am responsible for some of Melinda’s problems.
QW: Really? How are you responsible? What have
you done to her?
TM: I
can’t really explain everything in this short interview. Suffice it to say, it’s up to me if Melinda
lives or dies.
QW: It sounds like you’re playing God with her
life.
TM: Not at all. It’s actually Hell that is
playing with Melinda’s life.
QW: Please explain. Readers are going to want to
know.
TM: I can’t. Trust me, everyone will want
to read the story for themselves.
QW: Okay, I get it. Now, I know you’re not a bad
person. But so far from this interview, it appears as if you are…questionable,
at the very least. Tell your readers and fans, who you are.
TM: I’m
a lanky but good looking, young adult currently living—platonically—with Melinda
(although the platonic part I’d like to change). I’m searching for employment
so I don’t have to rely on her financial kindness any longer. I’m simply trying to carve out a place on
Earth where I can live a peaceful life with Melinda. From all the events that
have been happening, and that will continue to happen, I’m not sure that’s going
to be possible. At least anytime soon. I met Melinda at a time in her life that
her future path was uncertain. I’d like to think I helped her get through that.
But what’s to come? I’m not sure I can save her.
QW: Are you saying Melinda is going to
die?
TM: I’m not
saying she is. I’m not saying she’s not. All I am saying is that I’m
going to try to keep her from harm. I’m just not sure I can. I’m only human,
after all.
QW: Can you give us a glimpse into your
story? Something that shows the readers what it’s about?
TM: Starr has
already told me that I can share an excerpt with you, but she won’t let me say
more.
***
It’s dark and cold. I shiver as I stand
there. I can’t see anything. I take the time to adjust my eyes. It’s a narrow
tunnel. I can barely see the shape of it. From what I can tell, it reminds me
of an extremely large pipe. I feel the sides and it’s metal. Maybe I am in some
type of pipe.
I can’t see anything, so before I move
forward, I take out my flashlight. I shine what light it provides down the
corridor. Everything is rounded, even the floor. I have to walk in the middle
to stay upright. It’s foggy and I can’t see that far. The only thing that comes
to mind is a storm drain and the fog reminds me of being at the beach first
thing in the morning before it burns off.
I continue straight ahead, shining the light
left and right as I go, looking for a doorway or other exit. After some time,
my legs begin to feel as if I’ve walked for miles. I stop to rest and sip on
some water.
I keep moving and suddenly I’m falling. Not
far, about two feet, but I wasn’t expecting it and land on my butt. The fall is
enough to jar me, sending shooting pains up my back. I get up and stretch out
my back. Nothing seems broken. I stretch one last time and continue on. The
floor is suddenly at a steep downward angle. It’s so steep my toes are rammed
into the tips of my tennis shoes with every step I take.
It seems as if it’s going further
underground. After what seems like forever, I emerge from the pipe into a
cavernous room. The first thing I hear is hushed whispers. It sounds like
several people murmuring.
“Hello?” I call out.
Are there homeless people living down here?
Do they need help? Or others, entities maybe, who are here to stop me?
“Hello? Is anyone here? Do you need help?”
I splay the light around. I don’t see others
who could be the owners of the voices I’m hearing. Are they all in my head?
The floor is level now, no more downward
slant and no more fog. The walls are made of rock and there’s another doorway
on the left. It’s just as cold and I start jogging in place and blowing on my
hands to get some warmth. I hear water dripping, but I can’t see its source.
There’s no choice but to keep going. After
passing through the next exit, the path becomes much narrower and the whispers
disappear. The floor is uneven and I stumble quite a bit. At one point, I fall
and drop the flashlight. When I put my hands down to help myself up, I feel
something squishy. Yuck. What in the hell is it? Fortunately, the beam is still
on and I grab it and aim it at my hand. It’s black, sticky, and disgusting.
There’s a puddle of water in front of me. I use it to semi-clean my hands then
dry them on my jeans and get up.
It’s becoming hard to breathe and I lean
against the stone wall. I’m lightheaded. Oh God, no. Don’t let me pass out
here. I shake my head to refocus and call upon whatever strength I have.
I start walking again and I begin to hear
wailing. I stop to listen. Sure enough, someone or something is howling. No,
there’s more than one. I hear several different cries. They’re all around me
now. I put my hands up to cover my ears. I have to use my wrist because one
hand is holding the flashlight and I don’t want to drop it again. Is it just an
echo? It sounds like several people are being tortured.
I try to tune it out and keep moving. The
noises become louder the farther I walk. It’s excruciating to listen to. I
can’t imagine the pain they’re in. Then a thought hits me. What if Melinda is
crying out? What if she is one of those in agony?
The thought spurs me on. No amount of
discomfort will stop me from getting to her. I take short breaths and sip as
little water as possible. Suddenly, there’s a door in front of me. I sneak up
to it and put my ear to the wood. Nothing. I put my hand on the knob and
quickly pull it back. It’s like ice and I almost stick to it. Using my shirt as
a glove, I slowly turn the handle. I scan the room with my flashlight and find
it empty. I step in and see there are six doors. I decide to peek into each
one.
I walk to the one to my immediate left and just as I
reach for the knob, the hair on the back of my neck stands up and I’m overcome
with a sense of apprehension and terror. I stop my hand in mid-air. Then I hear
this evil laughter and like the cries earlier, it’s all around me. Bouncing off
the walls like echoes. The cackles seem to go on and on.
***
QW: I heard you are suspected by the
police for Melinda’s disappearance. But from what you just said, it sounds more
like you’re trying to save her. Which is it?
TM: I’m sorry, I can’t say any more
than that. Starr will have my soul.
QW: Okay. Thank you for joining us today, Trent.
It was nice speaking with you.
If you want to know even more about Trent
Miller, click on any of the links below:
HAPPY READING!
