By Melissa Marr
“No one builds worlds like Melissa Marr.”
“Welcome to the go back of the nice American gothic.”
—Del Howison, Bram Stoker Award-winning editor of darkish Delicacies
“A deliciously creepy story that's as skillfully wrought because it is spellbindingly imagined.”
Anyone who adores darkish myth, horror, and paranormal suspense goes to like Graveminder, a hauntingly atmospheric story of the jogging dead—and the residing who're charged with holding them at rest—from Melissa Marr, the New York Times bestselling writer of the depraved wonderful sequence. a tender lady returns to the agricultural small city of her youth merely to find it really is cursed floor bordering the land of the lifeless during this spectacularly imagined supernatural story that might entice lovers of Charlaine Harris, Joe Hill, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Neil Gaiman, and Carol Goodman.
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From Lovecraft to Borges to Gaiman, a century of intrepid literary experimentation has created a corpus of darkish and weird tales that go beyond all recognized style barriers. jointly those tales shape the bizarre, and its practitioners contain the various maximum names in 20th and twenty-first century literature.
Norman Partridge's Halloween novel, darkish Harvest, used to be selected as certainly one of Publishers Weekly's a hundred most sensible Books of 2006. A Bram Stoker Award winner and global delusion nominee, Partridge's rapid-fire story of a small city trapped by means of its personal shadows welcomed a totally unique construction, the October Boy, incomes the writer comparisons to Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, and Shirley Jackson.
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Extra info for Graveminder (Graveminder, Book 1)
The perfume of dead schoolgirls. Spyder thought of his room in high school. He'd had a poster on the wall, a parody of the kind of out-of-date Civil Defense instructions they used to give kids in case of nuclear attack. The last line had read: Put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Spyder vomited on the mugger's arm. The puke seemed to have some kind of mysterious juju power because at that moment the mugger's head sheered off and rolled to the alley floor. His body, which still had a solid grip on Spyder's collar, followed a second or two later.
At the door Spyder heard Bilal yell, "An OD! You're going to OD! " Eleven The Voice of the Sphinx Spyder wondered what time it was. He was in another cab and doing his best to ignore the chatty driver. It pained Spyder that he hadn't ridden his bike that morning. Without the bike, he always felt tied up and weighed down. Ever since he could ride, Spyder had always had a motorcycle of some kind. "You never know when you're going to need to get the hell out of Dodge," he told friends. " He told the driver to pull over.
You can't have her," said Spyder. "But from what she told me, you don't care about that. " "Accounts must be balanced. This is our burden," said the one on the right. " said the one on the left. Spyder nodded, still trying to parse their odd, singsong speech. " shouted Lulu. The middle banker said, "You owe us nothing. " "No. . " Spyder asked. " "Okay then. It's a deal. I'll see you down the fucking road. The door is that way. " "There is no deal yet," said the middle banker. He stepped forward and grabbed Spyder's arm with shocking speed and strength.