Slime of DeLauren
It is a contradiction this creek- a hundred thousand years old but renewed with each rainfall.
There was lightning behind Mr. Sayre's eyes, and it was looking for a place to strike.
I couldn't picture heaven. How could a place be any good at all if it didn't have the things there you enjoyed doing? If there were no comic books, no monster movies, no bikes, and no country roads to...
Trembled. He aimed the rifle’s barrel down the tunnel. Praise the Lord! the old
For flatboat barges. They would talk about the day Swan met a boatload of survivors from the destroyed land that had been called Russia, and nobody could understand their language, but she talked to t...
Because their spirits were weak and their brains were corrupted by mental junk food.
Grigsby had looked at him askance. Why is it, he said, that I have the distinct impression you’re not surprised by this news? ‘Surprised by the fact that the reverend is first and foremost a human bei...
Don’t you go through a day without remembering something of it, and tucking that memory away like a treasure. Because it is.
But he’d inherited the mistakes of the generations of presidents before him,
Bein’ used to somethin’, Davy Ray answered, is not the same as likin’ it.
It took us both — and Mom, too, and just about everybody in town — a long time to accept the fact that he and his wife had done such evil things. Though he wasn’t evil through and through, or else why...
Understood then what courage is all about. It is loving someone else more than you love yourself.
The young man’s eyes were red-rimmed, his gaunt face strained by whatever inner demons were torturing him.
Put one foot forward and the other will get you to where you are going~! Bag Lady, Swan Song
Here is my room, in the yellow lamplight and the space heater rumbling: Indian rug red as Cochise's blood, a desk with seven mystic drawers, a chair covered in material as velvety blue-black as Batman...
He was a scream wrapped up in straw, a little, weak, vicious thing gnashing inside a monstrous facade...
Local man who ran a hardware store in nearby Belleville,
After a few minutes he looked back and saw the derricks of St. Nasty receding against the violet-streaked sky. Then he looked forward again, toward whatever lay ahead.
And his bones were a cage of ice.