The Never by Kristina Circelli
I am really excited to share this new release – The Never by Kristina Circelli. It sounds SUPER good (I am a huge fan of Peter Pan!) Check it out and please go pick it up for your ebook reader (paperback soon to come!) I know I will!

“Out of nothing, we create something.”

Arianna has spent her entire life being called a dreamer, an artist who created a world no one else can see. And for her entire life, she has taken the medication that keeps that world – and the one who brought her there – at bay.

Now an adult, Arianna reawakens that part of herself kept locked away in the darkest corners of her mind. When she hides her medicine from her fiancé’s ever-watchful eye, he returns – the shadow in the night who collects her for an adventure known only in her fantasies.

But something is different about this world called The Never. It is no longer the cheerful place filled with light and laughter that she knew as a child. Now, the sea creatures drag their visitors into the depths of murky waters. The natives battle to the death against the tribe of children. And the pirates, led by the feared captain called The Hunter, seek out Arianna for their own sinister plans.

As Arianna goes deeper into The Never, she discovers just what her connection to the land means – and must choose between her life rooted in reality, and the world where anything is possible.


            They say that in time, we all must grow up.
            Keep your feet on the ground. Get your head out of the clouds. You dream too big. Such words force us out of childhood, out of our dreams, and into reality – if we let them. While our bodies may grow up and our minds may mature, our imaginations transcend the meaning of time.
            To say that I grew up would be the truth. To say that I stopped dreaming would be a lie. My love for writing was born out of dreams, both waking and sleeping, that took me to worlds everyone else said could never exist. Perhaps this life is too limited in its possibilities, or maybe it is our lack of sight that keeps us from truly seeing.
            You might even say that writing was, for me, an act of rebellion. Mermaids aren’t real? People can’t fly? Luck dragons are made-up creatures? Well, let me prove the many ways in which you are wrong. In books, there is no such thing as “impossible” – and that is what I love most.
            The Never took hold in my mind many years ago, a story of what happens after we grow up, but cannot forget our dreams. Some of you may recognize its origin, the long-ago told tale of magic, or you may have heard my endless chatter about the boy who never says good-bye. The Never is not a story of what happens next, but rather, what happens when one woman decides to stop believing in the limitations around her and instead believes in herself – what she can do, what she can see, and what she can dream.
            It is an unfortunate reality that we all must grow up. But, The Never has allowed me the rare opportunity to step back into a childhood that was all too short and be among the stories that keep my dreams alive, even during those pestering waking hours.
            Even now, I am the one who stays on shore for fear of sea monsters. I am the one who looks for faeries in the flowers. I am the one who is terrified by the thought of being possessed, yet still hopes to meet a ghost or alien. I am the one who lives in The Never, if only in my dreams.
            I hope you too enjoy the trip into the impossibly possible, and in the end, let your dreams take flight.
Like what you’ve read so far? Check this out:

Prologue – A Child Dreams

            The child sat with her arms crossed, green eyes staring vacantly at the woman before her, mind and imagination in a world not of this realm. The woman, frustrated and bored, watched the girl carefully, tired of this game.
            A clock ticked in the background, a steady tick, tick, tick of time that did not exist for the child, but drove the adult to her last frayed nerve. Not even the tranquility of her office, purposely decorated to best set every heart at ease with soft colors and peaceful seascapes, could ease the tension in her shoulders.
            “Arianna, we have been through this,” the woman said, speaking the first words of the day. Her voice sounded too high-pitched and nervous, betraying the stern expression her face had settled into. “You cannot keep lying to people. People don’t like lies.”
            Those green eyes shifted ever so slightly, latching on to her in an eerie, unsettling way. The woman’s breath caught in her throat, making her next question sound almost frightened. “Can you tell me why you make up these stories?”
            The girl hardly moved when she answered. “I don’t tell stories. I tell memories.”
            The answer only annoyed the woman more. “Memories of what?”
            “Of the land I dream of.”
            “And where is this land?” At that, the girl unfolded her arms and slowly raised a hand, curling her fingers until just one was pointing toward the ceiling. “Up? Where is up? Heaven?” The girl only lowered her arm and narrowed her eyes in a way that told the woman exactly what she thought of her. “And who showed you this place?”
            “A friend.”
            “Does this friend have a name?” The child didn’t answer. “Is he nice to you? Or does he tell you to do bad things?” Another blank stare. “Are you afraid of him?”
            “I’m not afraid of my friends.”
            “If he is a friend, why does no one else know him?”
            “No one else can see him.”
            The woman smiled softly, gently touching the girl’s arm. “Because he does not exist.”
            “Because they have forgotten how to see,” the child retorted, bitterness in her voice. “He only comes to those who still believe in magic.”
            “I see. And who told you to say that?”
            “I think for myself.”
            The woman sighed, rising to her feet and gesturing to the girl to do the same. “Magic is for children who cannot think for themselves, Arianna. It is time to grow up, and forget these stories. Then you won’t have to see me anymore.” The green eyes locked on her once again, sending a chill down the woman’s back.
            “I see you always. But you never see me.”

            The girl allowed her mother to tuck her in that night, obeying the soft commands to brush her teeth, put on her pajamas, and slip beneath the sheet. Bedtime was the best time for her, the time when dreams came, when she was visited by memories.
            Her mother, a beautiful lady in every sense of the word, pulled up the comforter, smiling down at her daughter. “Tomorrow is a new day, sweetheart,” she said, kissing her on the cheek. She held out her hand. “Here, take this.”
            The child looked down at the small blue pill, taking it in her slender fingers. “What is it?”
            “To help you sleep,” her mother replied, handing her a glass of water. Not a trace of anger or deception filled her words, as she was a good mother, one who knew what was best for her only child and refused to show distress. “So you won’t have to visit your doctor anymore.” As expected, the oath had her daughter eagerly swallowing the pill, never knowing what truths would come of the broken promises.
            “Will I sleep better now?” the girl asked, settling down against her pillows.
            “You will sleep like an angel, my beautiful little Arianna, with silk wings and a long, flowing white dress.”
            “Will I dream?”
            “Of all the most wonderful things in this world.” Her mother leaned over and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.”
            But on that night, the little girl didn’t dream at all.

Contact Kristina Circelli:

<3 Ardisone

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