Halloween reads! #coraline #neilgaiman #books #halloween
"Cold tears as salty as ocean spray wet my face. I remember the day before she died, my mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea—the thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the rhythm never ceasing. And she taught me something: strange and secret words in a foreign tongue, a lilting singsong cadence to it."
— from the novel Sinful Folk
"The day before she died, my mother did something inexplicable. She took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea. The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land. She squinted against the bright sunlight, making sure of our isolation."
"Dawn is a breath of frigid air as someone pulls aside the sackcloth. I open my eyes from a dream of Nell. I know who killed you, I tell her. But it is only a dream, the face I seem to recognize evaporates as I wake. Night is fading from the sky, and a last faint star etches a bright line. It falls off the edge of the ethered darkness, a light winking out."
“We gather wood and help Tom build his fire. As I pick up spare twigs and dried bracken, I wonder how far our sounds penetrate into the black forest, and how far our shouts echo along the White Road. Night birds warble, and small creatures rustle in the snow. The darkness around us presses down, as if to listen. The music of the wind rises and falls with the swirls of the snow, the creaking of the sea of branches in the darkness above us.”
fenix by KR-2Y-51-3K
"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are ghosts. The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past, back to the place where I was born. My mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea. The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land. She waited to tell me the secret."
“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed trees. Far below lies the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it. My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place—and now the village of Duns looks so small. This is the very place at which I first saw the village ten years ago. The line of trees here on the ridge is unchanged, as if I came here only yesterday. I waited in the quiet vale of Duns far too long.”
“The day wanes until the sun is caught once more in the net of the darkening sky. I struggle ahead of the cart now, into the tracks. I pretend the wind covers his words, that I cannot hear him. Ice cuts through the canvas rags on my feet, but still my curiosity compels me. I pretend to stumble, and I fall to the ground so my face is close to the trail. I will find the truth.”
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