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“Gossip is like thread wound over a spindle of truth, changing its shape.”
― Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
― Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“He slid the ring onto my wedding finger. It fitted perfectly. A good omen? I tipped my hand this way and that, admiring the extravagant sparkle, and kept my truth buttoned all buttoned up.”
― A Particular Man
― A Particular Man
“down Cambridge road through the bushes on Charlestown Common a scurry of red ants. Had he really seen them or imagined them? But all about him people were exclaiming, ‘Look, there they are!’ Those red ants were British soldiers. To his left the last moment of sunset light was dying. The day had been amazingly warm, but with night a fresh breeze came up off the ocean. Lights began to glimmer in Charlestown and on warships. Seemingly there was nothing more to be seen from Beacon Hill. Silently people turned to go to their houses. ‘Look!’ Johnny cried. You could see the flash of musket fire, too far away to be heard. Fireflies swarming, hardly more than that. –4– Getting”
― Johnny Tremain
― Johnny Tremain
“Martha Beacon’s honey bee sun tea? Of course, I can make it. Martha Beacon thinks she invented it. Everyone around here has been making it for centuries. Can I make Martha Beacon’s honey bee sun tea? The very gall of her. Is that what you want?”
― Just Out Of Reach
― Just Out Of Reach
“Her body faded away so far, she almost lost her connection to it. Utter
blackness enveloped her, shutting off all warmth. All light. All love. All
support. All hope. She was pinned, alone, naked, and freezing before a
beast so terrifying she struggled to avert her gaze but could not.
Horns arose from the top of what had to be a head. Fangs protruded
obscenely from a frowning hole that must have been a mouth.
Unsheathed claws threatened instant evisceration. Horrifying eyes.
Two cesspits of black fury in which red flames churned like burning
blood. They bore down on Helen, intensifying the pressure on her to
the point of agony.
Inside her head a message played over and over. You are helpless.
Helen’s fragmented thoughts spun wildly. What to do? How to stop
this nightmare?
The wretched voice roared again, like nails clashing against slate.
“Give me the stone! Now!”
― Stoneslayer: Book One Scandal
blackness enveloped her, shutting off all warmth. All light. All love. All
support. All hope. She was pinned, alone, naked, and freezing before a
beast so terrifying she struggled to avert her gaze but could not.
Horns arose from the top of what had to be a head. Fangs protruded
obscenely from a frowning hole that must have been a mouth.
Unsheathed claws threatened instant evisceration. Horrifying eyes.
Two cesspits of black fury in which red flames churned like burning
blood. They bore down on Helen, intensifying the pressure on her to
the point of agony.
Inside her head a message played over and over. You are helpless.
Helen’s fragmented thoughts spun wildly. What to do? How to stop
this nightmare?
The wretched voice roared again, like nails clashing against slate.
“Give me the stone! Now!”
― Stoneslayer: Book One Scandal
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