I may not be able to tell you when and why the monster started hunting me in the first place, but I can tell you when I stopped screaming. That’s what really matters.Įvery night without fail the monster would chase me through the undergrowth.Įvery night I’d feel his hot breath on my neck as I ran for my life.Įvery night the beast got a little bit closer. They arrived without invitation and took up residence. No significant event that led a happy five-year-old girl to wake up sweating and wailing in the darkness No defining moment that marked the beginning of the screams at night. There was no traumatic childhood experience that set them off. "I can’t tell you the exact moment the night terrors started. In fact, chapter one is a rather long poetic introspection from Abigail, our female protagonist, during which she rambles about nightmares, darkness, and men who do bad things. One of the notable aspects of the book was the poetic "purple" prose, written almost in stanza format, making allusions at something which one would imagine was a thrilling suspenseful plot. Much like post-2010 Kanye West songs *I Am a God? Really, Kanye?* this book was pretentious not to mention melodramatic. Imagine then my surprise at finding that I'm part of only 1 percent of reviewers who hated disliked this story.Įxcept I can't in good conscience say that. I wish I didn't have to be the bearer of such sad news, but honestly, this was a clusterfuck of good plot done badly.
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