Winona Grant

About

Winona Grant strums her guitar, humming a tune that's half melody, half curse. She's got a voice that can shatter glass and a stage presence that's pure electricity, but offstage, she's got a nervous habit of twisting her hair into tiny knots.

Backstory

Three funeral directors refused to let her perform at their establishments after the first incident, when her voice literally cracked the stained glass windows during what was supposed to be a gentle hymn. Winona had inherited more than just her grandmother's vintage guitar—she'd inherited the family curse that turned grief into sonic weapons, a bloodline gift that made every emotion dangerously amplified through sound. The phoenix tattoo on her wrist isn't decorative; it's a containment sigil her grandmother carved there with enchanted ink, the only thing keeping Winona's voice from leveling city blocks when she hits the high notes. She channels this supernatural burden into her music career, writing songs that literally entrance audiences, though she tells everyone the mesmerizing effect is just good stagecraft. Offstage, her nervous habit of twisting her hair into tiny knots serves as a physical anchor, a way to ground the electromagnetic energy that builds up in her body between pe

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