The girl lies by the black canal, her face turned upwards to the sky like a stargazer. But she will never see the stars again. Her eyes have been torn out. The rain fills the empty sockets until they brim over, spilling bloody tears down her cold white cheeks.
Adam SlaterIt hungers, always.
It takes shape after shape as its own, and each body it puts on is as hungry as the last.
Gran’s cottage might be tiny, and the furniture old and battered, but she ran a tight ship. As long as everything is in its right place, there’s plenty of room, she liked to say.
Adam SlaterCallum didn’t need a lifetime’s experience of seeing ghosts to know that the creature was not of this world.
For a long moment, he stared at the phantom. What was it? And why was it following him?
Callum swallowed, his throat dry. He didn’t want to think about what that something might be.
Ahead, through the trees, he could just see a pinprick of light. Home.
His face was a little anxious around the eyes, with a crease of worry between the eyebrows—but it was just a face. A normal face. Nothing to give away the fact that he was a freak who saw ghosts around every corner.
Adam SlaterSeite 1 von 1.
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