They do not open Barnes & Nobles in small towns. They, the men and women in clothing so black it reflects the sun away the shadows inside them, do not think country folk treat books well, but mostly it is because they say people like us have no money to spend on stories.
The Dark Half by K.M Allan is as gripping a book as its prequel, The Beginning, delving further into the realm of magick and what it possible there. Through strong writing and lucrative twists, it beautifully explores who falls prey to the lures present in the use of magick and why.
The sun is luminescent overhead. The man is pale, an albino with golden eyes. He dons a broad-brim hat of woven grass. The brim is dyed red. He digs in his pockets for the key to the house; it barely fits because of the rust. The battered door creaks inward. Dust and bottled love make his nostrils flare. Legend sniffs to clear the tears from his eyes . . .
You cook the mushrooms in butter and eat them with white wine and your lover under a moon that never crests the mountains . . .
A young girl whose magic may be the last chance her world has at revival is mercilessly preyed upon by choice.
She watches me with keen eyes hollow with wistfulness. I try to speak to her when I find the courage, but she never answers. I think she is mute. Her silence intimidates me . . .
A young girl chooses between toiling over straggling plants or ancient texts in the hopes of reviving her dying world.
I am a year old. My first road trip from Virginia to Florida is paved with oranges, cigarettes, and cops.
Episode one in Stoney River.
