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Chargement... TATTERDEMON (édition 2012)9 | 1 | 1,987,993 |
(5) | Aucun | In 1691 the town of Crossfall taught the witch Thessaly how to die. They beat her, they shot her, they hung her - but nothing worked. Then, when they finally tried to bury her alive Thessaly set the field against them. The first man died as a gust of wind harrowed the meat from his bones. A root,flung like a dirty javelin, cut a second man down. Many more deaths followed. The Preacher Fell impaled the witch upon her very own broom but she dragged him down into the field to wait for three more centuries.Three hundred years later Maddy Harker will murder her bullying husband Vic. She will bury him in the field as she buried her abusive father years before that. The very same field where the revenant spirit of Thessaly Cross lies waiting.In three days Vic will rise again - a thing of dirt, bone and hatred.Men will call him the Tatterdemon.And hell - and Thessaly - will follow.PRAISE FOR STEVE VERNON:"This genre needs new blood and Steve Vernon is quite a transfusion." - Edward Lee"Steve Vernon was born to write. He's the real deal and we're lucky to have him." - Richard Chizmar - Cemetery Dance"Armed with a bizarre sense of humor, a huge amount of originality, a flair for taking risks and a strong grasp of characterization - Steve's got thechops for sure." - Dark Discoveries"This book is EVIL!" - Keith Blackwood… (plus d'informations) |
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Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais. Modifiez pour passer à votre langue. Preacher Abraham Fell stared down at the witch Thessaly Cross, breathing like he’d run for a good long stretch. He leaned over, bending at the knees to lay another slab of field stone upon her chest.
“We beat you with hickory and we beat you with iron,” he said. “And you withstood every blow.”
He stooped down and picked up another rock, never taking his eyes off her, as if she were some kind of dangerous viper who might strike at any moment.
He set the next rock on top of her, directly beside the others.
“We shot you and the musket balls swerved in midair like they were afraid of sinking into the taint of your flesh.”
He scooped up another rock, grunting as he scooped. He just wasn’t as young a man as he used to be – and no wonder.
Sights like this one aged you faster than years ought to run.
“We hung you in a noose woven from a widow’s gray hair, a noose soaked in children’s tears and you kicked and cackled like a hell-kite in the wind.”
He laid the next rock down, sank to his knees and scooped up another stone. He was building a kind of rhythm that made the labor just a little easier.
“We burned you but even fired failed us.”
It was true. She had witched a storm from a cloudless sky and drowned the blaze cold. Seth Hamilton, the town smith who had been the only man to dare kindle her pyre had been cindered black.
“Let the stones crush you and the dirt eat you,” Fell said, laying another rock – which made thirteen stones in all. These were all good sized stones, hand-picked, at least the weight of child’s corpse. She ought to have been crushed by the weight upon her yet she carried the load as if it were nothing but sticks and straw.
“Where did you hide the broom, witch?” Fell asked.
“Maybe it’s up your bunghole,” Thessaly taunted.
The broom was her power and Fell feared it – although he knew that he shouldn’t have. It was just a thing of woven willow. His grand-nanny swept the pine boards of her cabin daily with just such a broom and she certainly wasn’t a witch.
Was she?
He bent for another stone.
Thessaly spat in his face. “Bury that, god kisser.” | |
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Informations provenant du Partage des connaissances anglais. Modifiez pour passer à votre langue. Maddy felt her bones reaching down through the floorboards into the Nova Scotian dirt. She felt her bones take root, going to seed. What had she been thinking? She should have run a half a dozen years ago.
Now she was trapped. | |
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▾Références Références à cette œuvre sur des ressources externes. Wikipédia en anglaisAucun ▾Descriptions de livres In 1691 the town of Crossfall taught the witch Thessaly how to die. They beat her, they shot her, they hung her - but nothing worked. Then, when they finally tried to bury her alive Thessaly set the field against them. The first man died as a gust of wind harrowed the meat from his bones. A root,flung like a dirty javelin, cut a second man down. Many more deaths followed. The Preacher Fell impaled the witch upon her very own broom but she dragged him down into the field to wait for three more centuries.Three hundred years later Maddy Harker will murder her bullying husband Vic. She will bury him in the field as she buried her abusive father years before that. The very same field where the revenant spirit of Thessaly Cross lies waiting.In three days Vic will rise again - a thing of dirt, bone and hatred.Men will call him the Tatterdemon.And hell - and Thessaly - will follow.PRAISE FOR STEVE VERNON:"This genre needs new blood and Steve Vernon is quite a transfusion." - Edward Lee"Steve Vernon was born to write. He's the real deal and we're lucky to have him." - Richard Chizmar - Cemetery Dance"Armed with a bizarre sense of humor, a huge amount of originality, a flair for taking risks and a strong grasp of characterization - Steve's got thechops for sure." - Dark Discoveries"This book is EVIL!" - Keith Blackwood ▾Descriptions provenant de bibliothèques Aucune description trouvée dans une bibliothèque ▾Description selon les utilisateurs de LibraryThing
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