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Cider with Rosie
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Feb 04, 2026 02:03AM

 
Bloodtide
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The Pathless Path...
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Jan 26, 2024 08:34AM

 
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William Golding
“He turned a half pace on the sand. A semicircle of little boys, their bodies streaked with coloured clay, sharp sticks in their hands, were standing on the beach, making no noise at all.

"Fun and games," said the officer.”
William Golding, Lord of the Flies

“I felt as if I were balancing a pyramid of eggs on the end of my nose”
Jacqueline Pascarl, Once I Was a Princess

“Over and again, you allow the hard logic of the market to usurp human choice and so you create a society with the morality of an anthill, where all human life is reduced to labour, all freedom flattened by the demand for efficient production, all weakness punished, all violence justified, where schools and hospitals are cut while crime and alienation flourish and millions are thrown into the deep pit of unemployment.”
Nick Davies, Hack Attack: The Inside Story of How the Truth Caught Up with Rupert Murdoch

John Wyndham
“And God said,' quoted Mr Leebody, ' "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." Very well, then, what are these Children? What are they? The image does not mean the outer image, or every statue would be a man. It means the inner image, the spirit and the soul. But you have told me, and, on the evidence, I came to believe it, that the Children do not have individual spirits - that they have one man-spirit, and one woman-spirit, each far more powerful than we understand, that they share between them. What, then, are they? They cannot be what we know as man, for this inner image is on a different pattern - its likeness is to something else.”
John Wyndham, The Midwich Cuckoos

Richard Laymon
“She lay on her back, knees up, thighs apart, rubbing herself with both hands, then beckoning him. But as he approached, he saw jagged shards of glass embedded in her skin. They protruded from her breasts, belly, thighs - glistening, clear blades waiting to rip him up. With a grin, she opened her mouth. Her tongue slid out, weighted with a jagged triangle of glass. Reaching between her legs, she spread her flesh. Powdered glass spilled like salt from her vagina.

"Fuck me," she said.

"Not till you take the glass out," he told her.”
Richard Laymon, Beware!/ Dark Mountain 2 in 1

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