The town kept its secrets, and the Marsten House brooded over it like a ruined king.
It is not in my nature to be interested in the living. But there are many things, I have found, that defy nature.
He understood that the ghost existed first and foremost within his own head. That maybe ghosts always haunted minds, not places. If he wanted to take a shot at it, he’d have to turn the barrel against his own temple.
Hello everyone! As you might remember from my first post in this series, I said I’ll review issues 3-6 separately, buuut then I decided against it. I didn’t want to do five posts on these comics, so I decided to do two by two and turn it into a three post series. Hopefully you’re still here after my math 101.
As promised, yesterday I started a Locke & Key readathon in anticipation of the Netflix show coming on February 7th. I’m reading one novel per day, finishing on the 6th, just before the series! This is a re-read, as I’ve read these novels two years ago, but I only did reviews for the first two volumes, Welcome to Lovecraft and Head Games.
They call us monsters because it makes it easier to hurt us. But monsters are people, too.
The soil of a man’s heart is stonier, Louis. A man grows what he can, and he tends it. ‘Cause what you buy, is what you own. And what you own… always comes home to you.
Hill House, not sane stood by itself against its hills holding darkness within. It had stood so for a hundred years before my family moved in and might stand a hundred more. Within, walls stood upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm. Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House. And whatever walked there walked alone
Their father was murdered. They don’t know one of their closest friends is really their enemy… And he’ll stop at nothing to get the key to the black door. The other keys have the power to save them. This is where they’ll make their stand.
All our land was enriched with my treasures buried in it, thickly inhabited just below the surface with my marbles and my teeth and my colored stones, all perhaps turned to jewels by now, held together under the ground in a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us.
Kids always think they’re coming into a story at the beginning, when usually they’re coming in at the end.
Notions of day and night no longer have any sense here. Only our brief moments of slumber allow us to mark our progress. As if everything in this world seemed continuous, permanent. For while there’s no cycle to form a rhythm in this subterranean universe, nothing here remains identical very long