From the Bookshelf of Into the Forest…

And some of the figures that streamed forth still from this invisible mouth were risen from the dead, their features swathed in graveclothes. Should they pause in my presence, they would let their wrapp

And some of the figures that streamed forth still from this invisible mouth were risen from the dead, their features swathed in graveclothes. Should they pause in my presence, they would let their wrappings suddenly fall, staring hungrily right into my heart with their predatory eyes that sent a stab of icy horror through my brain, and seemed to dam the swift course of my blood like a stream on which the skies have rained great chunks of stone, plumb to the very centre of its bed (p.12).

Often in my dreams would I witness the ghostly communings of these old houses, and in terror realise that they in very truth were the lords of the street, of its very life and essence...(p.16).