Except for the Bones
“Was the figure ahead a man or a monster? Overhead, dark clouds crossed a pale crescent moon. The surf was the only sound, a distant muttering. Face turned away, arms slack, the monster was motionless. The sand surrounding him had turned to eddying slime, putrefied by decaying flesh. Why was he coming closer, even though he still stood motionless? Why was the distance between them closing? The monster’s shoulders were scaled, his hands were talons. Now his face was visible: amorphous and scabrou...s, pulsating, the flesh itself as alive as a Gorgon’s cluster of writhing worms, the eyes two red coals, the nostrils two pits, the mouth a shapeless, blood-dripping maw.
What did he intend for her? What was she meant to do? And what was the sound that suddenly suffused them, that high-pitched keening— —the doorbell buzzer.
Someone at the door.
Carley, locked out?
The room was bright with morning light. Turning, she looked at her watch, on the table beside the couch. Almost nine-fifteen. Propped on one elbow, she felt her head begin to throb, felt the dull ache of recollection beginning.MoreLess
What did he intend for her? What was she meant to do? And what was the sound that suddenly suffused them, that high-pitched keening— —the doorbell buzzer.
Someone at the door.
Carley, locked out?
The room was bright with morning light. Turning, she looked at her watch, on the table beside the couch. Almost nine-fifteen. Propped on one elbow, she felt her head begin to throb, felt the dull ache of recollection beginning.MoreLess
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