It is sad, of course, to forget. But it is a lonely thing, to be forgotten. To remember when no one else does.
Warren the 13th tiptoed across the roof of the Warren Hotel, and the old slate tiles clattered like bones. A crisp autumn wind snapped at his back, threatening to knock him off balance, but he kept going. A fall from the top of an eight-story building was the least of his worries. He had a chimney to repair.
There was one particular tree…with branches that curled like sharp claws looking for skin to scrape. All the townsfolk had avoided that tree, for it wasn’t right that a tree seemed to whisper and stare and reach out when a person passed by.
I love you, Gretchen Lang. You are my reflection and my shadow and I will not let you go. We are bound together forever and ever! Until Halley’s Comet comes around again. I love you dearly and I love you queerly and no demon is bigger than this!
Sammy Pipps isn’t simply clever. He can lift up the edges of the world and peek beneath. He has a gift I’ll never understand. Believe me, I’ve tried.
I was following a phantom in my mind, whose shadowy form had taken shape at last. Her features were blurred, her coloring indistinct, the setting of her eyes and the texture of her hair was still uncertain, still to be revealed. She had beauty that endured, and a smile that was not forgotten. Somewhere her voice still lingered, and the memory of her words.
It is easy to kill with a bow, girl. How easy it is to release the bowstring and think, it is not I, it is the arrow. The blood of that boy is not on my hands. The arrow killed him, not I. But the arrow does not dream anything in the night.
You know, one of the hardest things to admit is that we weren’t loved when we needed it most. It’s a terrible feeling, the pain of not being loved.
It’s not something you tell people about, obviously. Not your parents, not your friends, not your dear old uncle or your favorite aunt: I can see the devil in people. I can see the devil in you.
We weren’t ourselves when we fell in love, and when we became ourselves – surprise! – we were poison. We complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way.
Serial murder may, in fact, be a much older phenomenon than we realize. The stories and legends that have filtered down about witches and werewolves and vampires may have been a way of explaining outrages so hideous that no one in the small and close-knit towns of Europe and early America could comprehend the perversities we now take for granted. Monsters had to be supernatural creatures. They couldn’t be just like us.
-If I were a monster, I would have let you drown back in the swamps. -And that’s the difference between us. You think one act of kindness, even self-serving, is enough to not make you one.
Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.
If I’d known then what I know now about fairy lore, I would have told my mother to burn that damned pillow and get those cursed teeth as far away from me as possible. Fairies and spirits aren’t generally known for altruism and charity, and a fairy bargain – even one so simple as trading a coin for a tooth – is a dangerous thing.
People like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves.
The town kept its secrets, and the Marsten House brooded over it like a ruined king.
Hello dear readers! A while ago, I mentioned I had a mystery binge in January, which started with reading The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware. After that I read all of her novels, and then naturally I started reading other mystery authors, because I forgot how awesome thrillers are?
It is not in my nature to be interested in the living. But there are many things, I have found, that defy nature.
Watching is like nature photography: You don’t interfere with the wildlife.
Hello bookworms! Recently I realized I’ve read several graphic novels and comics in the past few months which I haven’t reviewed. None of these really amount to a full, separate review, so I’ve decided to do mini reviews for these! These are mostly ARC’s, and I think you can still request some of these on Netgalley if you’re interested!