DEGREES OF COMPARISON OF ADJECTIVES In English, as in Russian, ...
And I'll wait until sunset.
There are no monsters where there is Faith
I will always look for you
Finding, I'll follow you - trace in the trace ...
During my "creative crisis" I still read books that evoked so many emotions that It was simply impossible not to write about them. But now, when I nevertheless matured before the review, I tried to understand my own writings and was defeated. It's book-style snippets - a bunch of unanswered questions. A bunch of obscure characters. A ton of incomprehensible and incredible facts. How to collect all this in one heap - I'll never know))).
I started reading this book because love anna jane books. Well, how I love, I love "My perfect tornado" and those two parts of the "Musical Love spell" that I'm on this moment finished reading XD So, this book has nothing to do with those listed. Well, except for the author, of course. Anya tried herself in a new genre, and I will not say that she did not succeed in anything worthwhile. But she twisted everything - be healthy! You can’t figure it out without a hundred grams, and even more so with them.
So, we have the main character, Jessica (Jess) Mellon. She has a cool Work, steep guy and generally speaking everything is awesome. Only now the girl’s heart is broken, and the first love has settled there forever and ever. Lost and Lost. Briefly speaking, everything is not as good as it seems at first glance.
Love is the biggest madness.
Jess. Jess... I don't know what to say about Jess. It's not that I don't like her... Here again my rule of one favorite character works. And if it's not Jess, then alas, I can't do anything about it. She is a pretty brave girl., although he runs quickly from the Scarecrow and the Snowman, and even with screams. But I can’t blame her for this, I would probably immediately give my soul to God))). Brent something she is looking for decisively. And boldly. And stubbornly. Breaks into the houses of shadows, steps into the darkness and the unknown. Struggling with dark visions and rising madness. Do I think she's crazy? I think no. I believe in the supernatural content of this book. Let half of the action happen in a dream, I believe that dreams and reality are one and the same. Maybe later I will get punch on the nose, in the form of Jess in a straitjacket and in a room with soft walls. But for now, I believe. I even believe in a ghostly happy ending. Just imagine, Jess wakes up on the chest of a teenage Brent, in the middle of a sun-drenched flower field and says: “Darling, you won’t believe what a dream I had!”, and Brent will hug her and she will stop being afraid. Yes, yes, I read a lot of women's novels and also ate sweets)))) Or she would find him alive and be able to bring him back. In the sense that it will push his shadow back to where it came from. And if Jess loves Brent like crazy, then she doesn't care about the rest. And the guy she tolerates out of habit and dumps while he lies in a coma. and parents who go crazy worrying about her. And on girlfriends who suddenly turn out to be bitches and stir up everything with her boyfriend XD
I love you angel of the cursed air
all the darkness that rages in me.
Will you say the answer?
...I do not need him.
Brent. I fell in love with Brent along with Jess. AT teenage brenta- gentle, timid, sincere. From these memories of her about him, it throws her in awe. AT brent-ideal-man from her dreams, passionate, caring, mature. And... in Dark Scarecrow (yes, I know, it's mega-weird!). But those purple eyes, sharp features and black hair. This is his desire to save and protect Jess, mixed with the desire to hurt and subjugate the girl to himself, break, trample. Just goosebumps. And mine chuyka squeals non-stop that he and Brent are the same person. Or not human? Doesn't matter. Rather, I would like to read what happens next and find out if my suspicions are true.
Like... Snowman. I know that it belongs to James, which I deeply dislike, but I like the Snowman more than a scarecrow.
Fog of Autumn. A lovable and attractive character. He seems much softer and kinder than his friend, the Dark Scarecrow. And if Dispater is a place for bad shadows, then it seems to me that the Mist of Autumn does not belong there.
And now, that a bunch of questions, which I asked myself, but did not find the answer in this book. Eric and Brent were both with Alice. Why? Bet? The nice guy in the band doesn't look like someone who would bet on a girl. Have they always been like this? Or did their shadows awaken on the night of Alice's death? What awakens the shadow? Murder? Who killed Alice? (Jess? James? Brent? Or the Cave Demon? Who is he?) If Brent hated Jess, if he didn't love her, why was it the other way around in her dreams? Why in his dreams does he ask her to save him? Or does she see what she wants to see? Why does she see Brent as a monster in her flashback? Was Alice the first victim of secular games? (What the hell are these games anyway?!) Was Brent a victim too? Why did Brent get into Dispater because of someone else, but because of Jess? Does that mean he got there for her? Who is this mysterious Aunt Jess who popped up in one of the memories and held back her shadow? Is James alive or is he also a shadow - visible only to Jess? Faces - opposites of shadows? bright sides souls?
As you can see - there are enough questions to scroll the brains through a meat grinder. I remember after reading I went through prostration for a couple of days, I was after book break. Read on will to find answers to your questions and to find Brent. I do not believe that he died or disappeared forever.
And I'll wait until dawn
To catch your scarlet snow with your lips,
And melt with him and shout:
I'm human, I'm human...
Anna Jane
Nightmares, my love
To my new friends that I got to know through writing this story.
“Your fear is the sweetest.
“Your madness is the most attractive.
“Ugly love, nasty, nasty, nasty,” he whispered, running his finger along her cheek. His voice was mocking, and now emanated a cloying tenderness, then exuded an evil grin. There was little human left in the narrow, pointed face, framed by charcoal-gray hair. The once-slender and regular features were distorted, madness sparkled in the purple eyes.
And everything around seemed like a crazy dream.
And echoing arches of the walls.
And curly shadows all around.
And the sounds of the music box.
And a delicate aroma of wormwood, anise and spices, as if someone had just spilled absinthe. However, there was madness. It soaked into the floor, rose to the ceiling, ate into the walls. Billions of molecules scattered in the air. It got into the blood. Settled in the soul a scarlet blush.
The music dropped into viscous silence.
The tightly bound girl, seated in a chair in front of the young man, looked into his eerie face with a mixture of fear and disgust. Her lips were split, and dark blood was caked under her matted long hair. Pulse parted. Sweat stood out in tiny drops on his temples.
She was scared. Very scary. It was so scary that the soul trembled in the solar plexus, the muscles froze (hit - they would crumble), and the eyes were clouded with cold tears.
Only she didn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything at all except for his fingers and his breath on her skin. And all-consuming fear.
She seemed to be used to fear. But this was an erroneous conclusion. You can't get used to the fear of death.
"God, why? .."
“You are crying,” the man said gently and wiped the tears from his pale cheek, and then licked them thoughtfully from his finger. He bowed his head to his shoulder, fixing his eyes on the high ceiling - like a gourmet who tasted tasty dish. Sweet, - he said and began to collect tears with his lips - from his face, neck, collarbones, no longer covered by a T-shirt - it was so badly torn.
From each of this painfully long touch, the girl shuddered. It seemed that where his lips had been, her skin was beginning to itch. And the man didn't seem to notice.
He liked doing it with her.
He liked her fear.
His breathing became ragged, heavy, and a couple of times he bit her skin - so that the tears mixed with blood.
Her blood intoxicated him. Her smell was maddening - although it seemed much more?
“You are too sweet, Candy. Too.
He placed his index finger on her lower lip, pulling down and revealing even white teeth. And licked pretty.
“Please…” she whispered, barely audible. - Please…
– What are you asking for? He put his hand to his ear, pretending not to hear.
- Let go, please ... Please, - she was so scared that every sound was given with difficulty.
Violet eyes sparkled.
Her captor leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.
"I can't," he admitted honestly, and rubbed his chin. - Or ... Yes, yes, yes.
Thin lips stretched into a mocking smile, dimples appeared on the cheeks - such are only cheerful people who often have to laugh. But who needs damn canyons on the cheeks, if there is abnormality in the eyes?
- Kiss Me. To dizziness. Herself. Then I'll let go. How do you like the idea? Like? He gently touched her scraped knee and withdrew his hand regretfully.
The girl often nodded, agreeing to everything, just to get out of here alive. In response, she got a smile in which charm was strongly mixed with disgust. Like whiskey and cola.
- Kiss sweetly, Candy.
The box fell silent, and the man twitched, grabbed it and turned the key again several times. He put it to his ear so that the musical drop sounded again.
"Pam-pum... Pum-pum-pum... Pum... Pum-pum-pum-pum..."
A terrible lullaby made its way to the bones.
- Will you really let go? – unblinking eyes stared into the terrible face of the girl. Dark tangled hair covered half of her face. Because of the blood dried in the corners of the lips, it seemed that they were lowered down. The abrasion on his cheek looked like a long scar.
She herself looks crazy now.
- Did I lie to you? The man shrugged, shoving his hand into his pocket.
In the semi-darkness, catching one of the highlights, a sharp blade of a knife flashed. The girl instinctively cringed, realizing that this was the end. She blinked, but...
But the knife didn't touch her flesh - it cut only the ropes, freeing her heavy, stiff arms and legs. And then with a ringing flew to the floor.
Her strained nerves also resonated loudly in response.
“To the point of dizziness,” the man reminded in a teacher’s stern voice and again sat down on the chair opposite, wearily threw back his long black hair, and then silently touched the dark narrow lips finger, making it plain to understand that she began.
He waited. I looked forward to it. Enjoyed the moment. And his eyes were filled with desire.
The girl hesitated. She was still shaking with fear, and her stiff hands would not obey, but she believed that this could be her chance. A chance for salvation. And she must overcome both weakness, and fear, and disgust, and do what he asks.
Leaning awkwardly forward, the girl, closing her eyes, touched his terrible lips with the feeling that she was kissing a huge talking spider or a snake with human eyes. It seemed to her that behind her clenched teeth lurked hideous maggots. And they are just waiting to get from his mouth into hers and find their way into the esophagus.
She was nauseated by her own thoughts and fear. Horror covered the body with a dense obsessive veil, and the heart was ready to explode from such frequent blows, but ... Nothing terrible happened.
No pain, no embarrassment.
Hot male lips. She felt a slight metallic taste on them, which was almost not felt. He was interrupted by wormwood - as if he had recently drunk absinthe.
And attractive - only I didn’t have the strength to admit it. He drove her crazy, kidnapped her (or made her come to him herself?) And soon take her life. Does this morbid attraction make sense?
No tenderness, no sympathy, where does pleasure come from? ..
She's going crazy.
The girl pulled away. Her eyes sparkled dark strands stuck to wet cheeks and neck, nostrils fluttered.
The man shook his head slightly. Not satisfied.
He asked to kiss until dizzy? .. How? .. After all, he himself did not answer, remaining motionless. Defiantly looking away. Enjoying her futile attempts. Her tears. Her humiliation.
And she knew it.
Fear rushed to the head along with the blood, eclipsing the mind.
Need to survive. At any price. Revenge. Tell the truth.
With these thoughts, the girl touched the tips of her aching fingers to his cheek, as if considering what to do. Then she got up on stiff legs, stiff and unresponsive, and, almost falling, sat on his knees, hating and dreaming that he would fall dead ... right now ... right here ... leaving her alone ...
He looked like a psycho. And acted like a bastard. All that aside, it felt like he was an ordinary man.
But how can all this be discarded?!
The shadows curling in the corners laughed soundlessly at her incoherent thoughts. The box was silent. There was an eerie silence.
The girl hesitated for a few seconds, gathering her strength, and then dug into his lips with an almost insane kiss, not knowing why she bit him until he bled.
It dropped the hook. The trigger released and feelings shot out, flying through the body, destroying the mind.
There was a flash before her eyes, and if not for his hands, she would have fallen.
The box sounded again by itself.
* * *…grey-blue eyes look at her with tenderness and love.
His lips softly touch hers.
Their fingers are intertwined.
“I love you,” a light whisper tickles her ear.
"I love you" - it's so nice to agree with reciprocity and fall into each other's arms.
They lie on his jacket right on the ground, and grass is everywhere. Tall grasses hide them. Herbs know their secret. Herbs are witnesses to everything.
He repeats her name. Kissing the hand.
Inside, gentle watercolor autumn, without winds and with tons of golden sunlight. And outside, she is.
Chilly. The sky is low, blue, full of strength.
It smells of apples, wormwood and intoxicatingly bitter herbs.
And the tumbleweed jumps joyfully, and inside everything is also joyful and light.
He's never kissed anyone before her, and he's inexperienced, but she loves it. He doesn't know much about anything and seems to be shy, but he's drawn to her just as much as she's drawn to him.
She holds his face in her hands and laughs loudly and...
Anna Jane
Nightmares, my love
To my new friends that I got to know through writing this story.
“Your fear is the sweetest.
“Your madness is the most attractive.
“Ugly love, nasty, nasty, nasty,” he whispered, running his finger along her cheek. His voice was mocking, and now emanated a cloying tenderness, then exuded an evil grin. There was little human left in the narrow, pointed face, framed by charcoal-gray hair. The once-slender and regular features were distorted, madness sparkled in the purple eyes.
And everything around seemed like a crazy dream.
And echoing arches of the walls.
And curly shadows all around.
And the sounds of the music box.
And a delicate aroma of wormwood, anise and spices, as if someone had just spilled absinthe. However, there was madness. It soaked into the floor, rose to the ceiling, ate into the walls. Billions of molecules scattered in the air. It got into the blood. Settled in the soul a scarlet blush.
The music dropped into viscous silence.
The tightly bound girl, seated in a chair in front of the young man, looked into his eerie face with a mixture of fear and disgust. Her lips were split, and dark blood was caked under her matted long hair. Pulse parted. Sweat stood out in tiny drops on his temples.
She was scared. Very scary. It was so scary that the soul trembled in the solar plexus, the muscles froze (hit - they would crumble), and the eyes were clouded with cold tears.
Only she didn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything at all except for his fingers and his breath on her skin. And all-consuming fear.
She seemed to be used to fear. But this was an erroneous conclusion. You can't get used to the fear of death.
"God, why? .."
“You are crying,” the man said gently and wiped the tears from his pale cheek, and then licked them thoughtfully from his finger. He bowed his head to his shoulder, fixing his eyes on the high ceiling - like a gourmet who tasted a delicious dish. Sweet, - he said and began to collect tears with his lips - from his face, neck, collarbones, no longer covered by a T-shirt - it was so badly torn.
From each of this painfully long touch, the girl shuddered. It seemed that where his lips had been, her skin was beginning to itch. And the man didn't seem to notice.
He liked doing it with her.
He liked her fear.
His breathing became ragged, heavy, and a couple of times he bit her skin - so that the tears mixed with blood.
Her blood intoxicated him. Her smell was maddening - although it seemed much more?
“You are too sweet, Candy. Too.
He placed his index finger on her lower lip, pulling down and revealing even white teeth. And licked pretty.
“Please…” she whispered, barely audible. - Please…
– What are you asking for? He put his hand to his ear, pretending not to hear.
- Let go, please ... Please, - she was so scared that every sound was given with difficulty.
Violet eyes sparkled.
Her captor leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.
"I can't," he admitted honestly, and rubbed his chin. - Or ... Yes, yes, yes.
Thin lips stretched into a mocking smile, dimples appeared on the cheeks - such are only cheerful people who often have to laugh. But who needs damn canyons on the cheeks, if there is abnormality in the eyes?
- Kiss Me. To dizziness. Herself. Then I'll let go. How do you like the idea? Like? He gently touched her scraped knee and withdrew his hand regretfully.
The girl often nodded, agreeing to everything, just to get out of here alive. In response, she got a smile in which charm was strongly mixed with disgust. Like whiskey and cola.
- Kiss sweetly, Candy.
The box fell silent, and the man twitched, grabbed it and turned the key again several times. He put it to his ear so that the musical drop sounded again.
"Pam-pum... Pum-pum-pum... Pum... Pum-pum-pum-pum..."
A terrible lullaby made its way to the bones.
- Will you really let go? – unblinking eyes stared into the terrible face of the girl. Dark tangled hair covered half of her face. Because of the blood dried in the corners of the lips, it seemed that they were lowered down. The abrasion on his cheek looked like a long scar.
To my new friends that I got to know through writing this story.
“Your fear is the sweetest.
“Your madness is the most attractive.
Prologue
“Ugly love, nasty, nasty, nasty,” he whispered, running his finger along her cheek. His voice was mocking, and now emanated a cloying tenderness, then exuded an evil grin. There was little human left in the narrow, pointed face, framed by charcoal-gray hair. The once-slender and regular features were distorted, madness sparkled in the purple eyes.
And everything around seemed like a crazy dream.
And echoing arches of the walls.
And curly shadows all around.
And the sounds of the music box.
And a delicate aroma of wormwood, anise and spices, as if someone had just spilled absinthe. However, there was madness. It soaked into the floor, rose to the ceiling, ate into the walls. Billions of molecules scattered in the air. It got into the blood. Settled in the soul a scarlet blush.
The music dropped into viscous silence.
The tightly bound girl, seated in a chair in front of the young man, looked into his eerie face with a mixture of fear and disgust. Her lips were split, and dark blood was caked under her matted long hair. Pulse parted. Sweat stood out in tiny drops on his temples.
She was scared. Very scary. It was so scary that the soul trembled in the solar plexus, the muscles froze (hit - they would crumble), and the eyes were clouded with cold tears.
Only she didn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything at all except for his fingers and his breath on her skin. And all-consuming fear.
She seemed to be used to fear. But this was an erroneous conclusion. You can't get used to the fear of death.
"God, why? .."
“You are crying,” the man said gently and wiped the tears from his pale cheek, and then licked them thoughtfully from his finger. He bowed his head to his shoulder, fixing his eyes on the high ceiling - like a gourmet who tasted a delicious dish. Sweet, - he said and began to collect tears with his lips - from his face, neck, collarbones, no longer covered by a T-shirt - it was so badly torn.
From each of this painfully long touch, the girl shuddered. It seemed that where his lips had been, her skin was beginning to itch. And the man didn't seem to notice.
He liked doing it with her.
He liked her fear.
His breathing became ragged, heavy, and a couple of times he bit her skin - so that the tears mixed with blood.
Her blood intoxicated him. Her smell was maddening - although it seemed much more?
“You are too sweet, Candy. Too.
He placed his index finger on her lower lip, pulling down and revealing even white teeth. And licked pretty.
“Please…” she whispered, barely audible. - Please…
– What are you asking for? He put his hand to his ear, pretending not to hear.
- Let go, please ... Please, - she was so scared that every sound was given with difficulty.
Violet eyes sparkled.
Her captor leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.
"I can't," he admitted honestly, and rubbed his chin. - Or ... Yes, yes, yes.
Thin lips stretched into a mocking smile, dimples appeared on the cheeks - such are only cheerful people who often have to laugh.
But who needs damn canyons on the cheeks, if there is abnormality in the eyes?
- Kiss Me. To dizziness. Herself. Then I'll let go. How do you like the idea? Like? He gently touched her scraped knee and withdrew his hand regretfully.
The girl often nodded, agreeing to everything, just to get out of here alive. In response, she got a smile in which charm was strongly mixed with disgust. Like whiskey and cola.
- Kiss sweetly, Candy.
The box fell silent, and the man twitched, grabbed it and turned the key again several times. He put it to his ear so that the musical drop sounded again.
"Pam-pum... Pum-pum-pum... Pum... Pum-pum-pum-pum..."
A terrible lullaby made its way to the bones.
- Will you really let go? – unblinking eyes stared into the terrible face of the girl. Dark tangled hair covered half of her face. Because of the blood dried in the corners of the lips, it seemed that they were lowered down. The abrasion on his cheek looked like a long scar.
She herself looks crazy now.
- Did I lie to you? The man shrugged, shoving his hand into his pocket.
In the semi-darkness, catching one of the highlights, a sharp blade of a knife flashed. The girl instinctively cringed, realizing that this was the end. She blinked, but...
But the knife didn't touch her flesh - it cut only the ropes, freeing her heavy, stiff arms and legs. And then with a ringing flew to the floor.
Her strained nerves also resonated loudly in response.
“To the point of dizziness,” the man reminded in a teacher’s strict voice and again sat down on the chair opposite, wearily threw back his long black hair, and then silently touched his dark narrow lips with his finger, plainly making it clear that she should start.
He waited. I looked forward to it. Enjoyed the moment. And his eyes were filled with desire.
The girl hesitated. She was still shaking with fear, and her stiff hands would not obey, but she believed that this could be her chance. A chance for salvation. And she must overcome both weakness, and fear, and disgust, and do what he asks.
Leaning awkwardly forward, the girl, closing her eyes, touched his terrible lips with the feeling that she was kissing a huge talking spider or a snake with human eyes. It seemed to her that behind her clenched teeth lurked hideous maggots. And they are just waiting to get from his mouth into hers and find their way into the esophagus.
She was nauseated by her own thoughts and fear. Horror covered the body with a dense obsessive veil, and the heart was ready to explode from such frequent blows, but ... Nothing terrible happened.
No pain, no embarrassment.
Hot male lips. She felt a slight metallic taste on them, which was almost not felt. He was interrupted by wormwood - as if he had recently drunk absinthe.
And attractive - only I didn’t have the strength to admit it. He drove her crazy, kidnapped her (or made her come to him herself?) And soon take her life. Does this morbid attraction make sense?
No tenderness, no sympathy, where does pleasure come from? ..
She's going crazy.
The girl pulled away. Her eyes shone, dark strands stuck to her damp cheeks and neck, her nostrils fluttered.
The man shook his head slightly. Not satisfied.
He asked to kiss until dizzy? .. How? .. After all, he himself did not answer, remaining motionless. Defiantly looking away. Enjoying her futile attempts. Her tears. Her humiliation.
And she knew it.
Fear rushed to the head along with the blood, eclipsing the mind.
Need to survive. At any price. Revenge. Tell the truth.
With these thoughts, the girl touched the tips of her aching fingers to his cheek, as if considering what to do. Then she got up on stiff legs, stiff and unresponsive, and, almost falling, sat on his knees, hating and dreaming that he would fall dead ... right now ... right here ... leaving her alone ...
He looked like a psycho. And acted like a bastard. All that aside, it felt like he was an ordinary man.
But how can all this be discarded?!
The shadows curling in the corners laughed soundlessly at her incoherent thoughts. The box was silent. There was an eerie silence.
The girl hesitated for a few seconds, gathering her strength, and then dug into his lips with an almost insane kiss, not knowing why she bit him until he bled.
It dropped the hook. The trigger released and feelings shot out, flying through the body, destroying the mind.
There was a flash before her eyes, and if not for his hands, she would have fallen.
The box sounded again by itself.
* * *
... gray-blue eyes look at her with tenderness and love.
His lips softly touch hers.
Their fingers are intertwined.
“I love you,” a light whisper tickles her ear.
"I love you" - it's so nice to agree with reciprocity and fall into each other's arms.
They lie on his jacket right on the ground, and grass is everywhere. Tall grasses hide them. Herbs know their secret. Herbs are witnesses to everything.
He repeats her name. Kissing the hand.
Inside, gentle watercolor autumn, without winds and with tons of golden sunlight. And outside, she is.
Chilly. The sky is low, blue, full of strength.
It smells of apples, wormwood and intoxicatingly bitter herbs.
And the tumbleweed jumps joyfully, and inside everything is also joyful and light.
He's never kissed anyone before her, and he's inexperienced, but she loves it. He doesn't know much about anything and seems to be shy, but he's drawn to her just as much as she's drawn to him.
She holds his face in her hands and laughs loudly and...
* * *
... and then he seemed to go crazy. He grabbed her by the shoulders, painfully dug his fingers into the delicate skin, greedily responding to the kiss - as if it was the last kiss in his life. Furious, painful, crushing.
Crazy, just like him.
The kiss lingered. Hatred, despair, destructive force.
Every muscle was tense. Every nerve is exposed.
It sparkled inside.
And it felt like a fight.
The girl did not remember how she lost control. I didn’t understand how I began to enjoy everything that was happening - brittle, fragile, like glass, and just as sharp, dangerous.
Abnormal.
She clung to the tense shoulders of the man, threw up her chin, allowing marks to be left on her stretched neck, grabbed her hair, whispered something completely incoherent.
She was pierced through and through - through the lungs and heart, down, through the stomach.
“Candy-Candy-Candy,” he said hoarsely between kisses, his breath searing her skin. “What are you doing to me, Candy. Too dizzying...
And she, experiencing almost physical pain from the fact that her captor was moving away, caught his lips and kissed him again and again.
Kissed like she loved. But she knew for sure that she hated him.
He pulled away first and carefully seated the girl in his chair. And she silently cried - from unexpected disappointment, tried to climb onto his knees again, but he roughly pushed her away from him and leaned back again, breathing heavily and looking at her frowningly.
There was silence between them. The shadows lingered. They smiled.
A few tens of seconds of breaking, and the girl came to her senses, realizing where she was and what was happening to her. On the body, now no longer bound with ropes, walked new wave fear. What got into her?! Stockholm Syndrome?
Thin fingers touched burning lips.
No, she couldn't. No.
The man looked at her with tenderness, as if reading her mind. Only purple eyes became even more terrible. They had no glare. There was nothing in them but this all-consuming madness.
"Let me go," the girl said in a barely audible voice. Hope left penultimately - her body would leave after her.
"I'll let you go," her captor agreed easily. There was no hint of truth in his words. - I promised.
She wrung her hands. Let it end. Please. Let, let, let...
"Go," he waved his hand broadly. And he smiled cheerfully. The dimples on his predatory face seemed completely superfluous. - Go ahead. Go. The door is there,” he pointed with a finger with a dark nail somewhere to the right.
Only then did the girl realize that no matter what she did, no matter how free her body was now, he would still kill her. Just play first. And this game has already begun.
Ropes mean nothing. She can't be saved.
He will be everywhere. He will be behind her. He will be in her heart.
“You too…” she said with difficulty, remembering all those who had disappeared. “Kill… me too?”
He smiled, stood up, leaned towards her, placing his hand on the back of the chair behind her, and gently licked her cheek, leaving a wet trail on it.
- Well, Candy. What you. Purple eyes peered into her frightened face with streaks of blood for a long time. - What you. Come on.
She shook. She shook her head, mumbled something pitiful, pleading.
The man grabbed her by the forearms and jerked her to her feet. Like a doll.
She was his doll.
“Go,” he repeated in the same nasty voice of his. - Run away. Seek happiness, Candy! You won't find it with me.
The black-haired man stepped aside, folded his hands behind his back, and began to watch with interest as she takes timid steps, staggering and grabbing her hands against the bare cold wall.
It was like in a dream - her legs became wadded, movements were difficult, and the girl could hardly move.
She had a purpose.
Gathering all her strength, she suddenly bent down and picked up the fallen knife, which she forgot about during the crazy kiss, but which she did not forget for a moment after it. The handle was ice cold, like a knife in a refrigerator. But she did not care - the girl threw her hand forward and rushed at the man.
With a laugh, he caught her with one hand, and with the other he grabbed the knife by the blade, which immediately dug into the skin. And with a light movement he tore the edged weapon from the girl's thin fingers, throwing it far, into the thick shadow in the very corner.
“And I thought you wouldn’t even remember him,” he shook his head, stroking her face with a bloody hand and not noticing that he was wounded.
- Bastard! The girl screamed, trying to escape.
And he suddenly hugged her like a toy, hugging her to him, forcing her to listen to the beating of his heart in his chest. Closing his eyes and gently kissing his hair, his temple. Saying something silently.
And then he abruptly pulled away and, grabbing a syringe from an iron table nearby, without a word injected its contents into the bend of the elbow of the frozen girl.
The last thing she saw, a huge shadow detached itself from the wall and stepped towards them, smiling and taking off its hat.
Her unconsciousness saved her from insanity.
“Ugly love,” the man whispered, shaking the girl and not letting go. - Ugly, ugly, ugly...
"Pam-pum... Pum-pum-pum... Pum... Pum-pum-pum-pum..."
Chapter 1
Months ago
A happy life is not given to everyone - someone is fighting for it, snatching what they want from the clutches of reality. And someone enjoys everything that was given to him at birth, without even thinking at what cost others get it.
Jessica Malone was considered a happy person.
At twenty-seven, she was pretty, confident, smart, charming, and firmly on her feet. A fashionable wardrobe, a brand new phone, a nice car, a house of her own in a fashionable neighborhood - all this she got easily, without much effort. At one time, having graduated from a prestigious university with a degree in journalism, Jess easily got a job in one of the fashionable women's magazines and for several years successfully wrote articles and interviewed celebrities. She was in good standing among her colleagues, skillfully resisting gossip and rumors, often went on trips, bought branded clothes, attended self-development seminars and went in for sports: fitness twice a week and yoga twice a week. In addition, her personal life did not fail - for two years now, Jess had been dating a man who, without exaggeration, could be called a dream with Scandinavian roots: tall, blue-eyed blond Eric was ideally suited to brown-eyed dark-haired Jess. He was pleasant in communication, polite, athletic and had an attractive appearance, but not at all sugary. But, most importantly, he was smart and, despite his age - he was not yet thirty, he taught at New Palmer University in the Department of Physical Sciences.
It seems they were both in love. They often rested together, had common interests and did not get bored in each other's company. And both dreamed of a big family. In addition, Eric was an amazing kisser, was gentle and caring, losing to only one man.
In the winter, they decided to get married: Eric looked after the house, and Jess made up the honeymoon itinerary. She had long dreamed of a Mediterranean cruise.
Numerous friends and colleagues in the magazine could only envy Jess and her ideal, from their point of view, life.
Of course, her fate is largely due to the help of parents who are very supportive: rational enough to give the eldest daughter freedom of choice, and conservative enough to prevent this freedom from turning into unruly anarchy. The father is a successful businessman who made money on industrial waste processing companies, the mother is a typical housewife from high society, busy with social life: she used to be the head of the Board of Trustees of the school where Jess once studied, participated in charity events, and now, when they moved from the quiet Crownford to the huge bustling New Palmer, and completely headed her own fund to help children.
If Jess had been a man, much would have been expected of her - at least that's what her father said - but since she was lucky to be born a woman (mother's statement!), A number of duties were removed from her. The mission to become the heir of his father in the management of the company was entrusted to his younger brother Tedd, and Jess dreamed of the position of editor-in-chief. And slowly but steadily went to this goal. She had a lot of patience and diligence.
She considered herself a confident and fearless person - up to a certain point.
... that day Jess was returning home after a stormy party in a nightclub late, after midnight. The girl had not had so much fun and danced so much for a long time - she even took off her shoes on the dance floor. And the fault was the birthday of her colleague and good friend Diane. She was used to celebrating on a grand scale and knew how to charge those around her with a great mood.
After a stormy celebration, Jess was brought home by a taxi driver - because of alcohol, the girl did not dare to drive a brand new Chevrolet Spark. All the way she talked to Eric on the phone, leaning back against the soft seat back. The lights of the big city rushed past - at night New Palmer was relatively empty, but by seven in the morning traffic jams began to gather on the roads - the eternal problem of the modern metropolis.
Alcohol was still pulsing in the blood of the chattering Jess, and it made her head spin easily and pleasantly. I wanted madness and love. Break kisses and break off herself - with the person with whom she wanted to connect her future life. And, as luck would have it, he went on a business trip - to a scientific symposium on quantum physics.
“When you get back, I miss you,” Jess said in a capricious voice. The wind from the half-open window tousled his hair.
“Tomorrow, honey, I already told you,” Eric reminded her in a calm voice. Although he did not like that the bride was drunk, he did not reprimand her and did not shout, he only gently reproached and made fun of her condition.
“Tomorrow won’t come soon. But when it does, you'll be in my bedroom all night,” Jess said jokingly, and the driver smiled when he heard that. A slender girl with a mop of dark, disheveled hair seemed to him a candy, who instead of a wrapper had a small black dress with bare shoulders and a leather jacket draped over the top. Someone is very lucky.
“We've arrived,” he said, stopping the car near her house: a two-story, elegant, with a blue roof and an asymmetrical facade, surrounded by a flat lawn - a typical house of a cozy elite suburb.
Calm and deserted. Safe.
Like a postcard, a large round moon hung over the house, around which single stars twinkled in a matte dark blue sky.
Jess paid off, leaving the driver more than was supposed to, and got out of the taxi, continuing the conversation with her fiancé.
She didn't notice how quiet it was. I did not pay attention to the fact that the light of the lanterns became dim and cold. She did not feel the smell of anxiety in the damp night air.
The driver, who suddenly felt unreasonable fear, took one last look at the figure of the client walking along the stone path, lightly walking on monstrous heels, and hurried to get away.
When he looked back mechanically before turning the corner, he noticed that a huge scarecrow had appeared in the yard of the brunette's house, opening its arms in eternal greeting.
"And why is it here?" thought the driver, and the scarecrow suddenly waved its clawed hand at him. The man, cursing in astonishment, almost crashed into a sprawling tree, but taxied out in time. He preferred not to turn around anymore, but to quickly dump away.
Jess slowly walked to the house, drugged with alcohol and not paying attention to anything. The anxiety was just starting to grow.
She would immediately run into the house, but she stopped several times, chatting with her fiancé, laughing, saying that she was bored.
- You arrived? Eric stated.
“Yes,” Jess muttered sleepily.
- Sleep well. I love you,” he said in parting.
“And I love you,” the girl agreed lazily.
“Take care of yourself,” her boyfriend habitually told her, and they hung up at the same time.
Jess realized that something was happening only when she was already opening the door. She suddenly became aware that someone was staring at her. So intently that it seemed as if the back was scorched by a flame.
An unreasonable fear gripped her. Animal. Sticky and nasty.
The girl turned sharply and saw a tall male silhouette near the road. Someone, dressed in a baggy cloak and hood, held a staff-like stick in his hands and looked at her. Perhaps he was smiling - it was impossible to see this in the semi-darkness.
"Who else is that?" - flashed through the girl's head. She didn't know all her neighbors, but she doubted any of them went out for night walks like that.
The stranger's eyes blinked with a scarlet hellish flash, a slit appeared on his face, glowing with a poisonous green light - a kind of crooked, terrible smile. The hand went up in greeting, like the Indians. And the owner of this terrible face began to approach the terrified Jess. Halloween was far away, and the guy in the monster costume could not inspire such irrational quivering fear.
Good day, dear readers and readers of the site IRecommend!
On such a New Year's, winter, but, unfortunately, snowless evening, my mood prompted me to finally write a review, which I did not dare to write for half a year. And I didn’t dare to do this, because, as it seems to me, a book review is one of the most time-consuming and difficult of all reviews that can be. And, as you already understood, this is my first experience, so do not judge strictly.
I would like to start the review with my reader experience and preferences.
♡ I started reading about 3 years ago. The first book I read in just one evening that started my love of reading was The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, then most of the books I read were in the genre dystopia, drama, teen books, or sometimes even romance novels. For some reason, the classics attract me very little, the most "read" classical works by me are works about the war, such as "The Fate of a Man" by Mikhail Sholokhov, "The Dawns Here Are Quiet ..." by Boris Lvov, "Coward" by Garshin, etc. How You may have already noticed that I didn’t say a word about the genre of horror and mysticism, because it is completely far from me and my preferences. In books, I appreciate the dynamic development of the plot, the lack of "water", as well as the clarity and ease of reading.♡
Now let's get to the book:
I myself had not heard of her until they gave me the book that I am telling you about in this review, but here is what I managed to find about her:
Also her works are:
♕ Genre: horror/mystery.
♕ A little about the design of the paper version of the book
The cover itself seems to scream that the book is shrouded in mysticism.
The font of the book is not small and not large, it is read well, you do not have to strain your eyes.
The beginning of each chapter is decorated with a drawn girl
Both pictures and letters look good.
The glass painted on the cover shimmers beautifully with a mirror shine
On the endpapers of the book, we can see all the same glass fragments
♕ The plot and content of the book.
And finally, we come to the most important thing, which is why the whole review was - the content.
Undoubtedly, you need to start with annotations to our book:
Jess lives ordinary life: she has good job, loving family and a wonderful boyfriend. Jess is getting ready for her wedding and her dream trip.
But Jess does not know that a crazy past will soon burst into her happy present, and her future will be in jeopardy.
Dead girls will be found on the streets with frozen smiles on their faces.
The monsters will leave their hiding places.
And the one whose eyes shine with madness will return and claim his rights.
And he will quietly say in her ear: "Nightmares, my love ...".
First, what I liked right away is an unusual intro
Second: the author at the end of the book writes a short poem for us, which seems to hint at the continuation of the story.
And most importantly, the plot.
I'll tell you why I liked the plot and why a book of a genre far from my tastes could make such an impression on me.
And the thing is that the book was able to interest me from the very prologue (which rarely happens to me). After reading it, I immediately realized that I could not leave the book until I finished reading it to the end. Even when I tried to put down the heroine of my review and do other things, I soon realized that I wanted to continue and continue to read it. And all because each chapter of the book constantly ended with the most interesting and the hand itself reached out to turn the page to the next chapter to let me know what would happen next.
There are not so many books in my "reader's luggage" that interested me so much that I read them in one day or night, but this book managed to get into this number, so I definitely recommend it to all book lovers
Its only drawback for me was that the book has some kind of understatement and much remained a mystery to me, but I hope I will find answers to all my questions in the second part of this book, on which the writer should soon begin work.
I give this book five stars and recommend it to everyone.
I hope that my review was at least a little useful for you. All the best and more interesting books :3
