Snap

The author beautifully crafts what could be taken as a sinister concept (vigilante style murder/retribution) and through gracefully constructed prose, reminiscent of Kerouac at his best, has Danny, the protagonist, tell us how his encounter with a supposed trick ended up being a road trip through a kind of silver-lined hell.

Danny uses a stream of c

The author beautifully crafts what could be taken as a sinister concept (vigilante style murder/retribution) and through gracefully constructed prose, reminiscent of Kerouac at his best, has Danny, the protagonist, tell us how his encounter with a supposed trick ended up being a road trip through a kind of silver-lined hell.

Danny uses a stream of consciousness that takes the reader so deeply into his brain that the ideas inside stop forming in traditional ways and we are hit with rapid-fire intuitions and concepts, which the author deftly delivers by eliminating excess commas, making both the story as a whole and the inner monologue of its lead character have a bang-bang-bang delivery which keeps the reader avidly turning page after page.

The way in which Danny thinks about objects as people; cars are grandfather and brother, drugs have capitalized first names, allow the reader to even further appreciate the isolation and desperation that Danny feels in his regular day-to-day existence. From hustling for a hot dog to the story's culmination, we are with Danny every step of the way, not sure if we are rooting him on or waiting with an uneasy trepidation for his imminent fall.

This is a novel that deserves a rating higher than 5 Stars and, like any great piece of art, is one to be returned to for further appreciation later.

Snap by Allen Renfro, I will leave it for you to experience this incredible work for yourself.

Silence was Ross.

”I finally asked for something to drink. He (Matthew) cocked his head toward the back seat. “Cooler back there.” I turned and looked. There really was a cooler. It would either have beer or somebody’s head.”

“You’re afraid of the dark,” he [Matthew] said. “No, I’m not,” I said as I pulled the blankets over me. “Let me rephrase,” he said. “You’re afraid of what is in the dark.” “That’s where it all is,” I said. “Where what is?” “The everything, the anything. All the stuff that eats you alive,” I said... He did not seem bothered lying on the floor on his side squeezed between the TV stand and the foot of the bed. I jumped back to the bed avoiding his feet. I admired him. I could never sleep that close to the dimension known as under the bed knowing the frozen hand of death could reach out and pull me under any second...knowing the somewhere was just under me, peering out with hungry fangs waiting for me to put my feet down on the floor... The metamorphosis was seamless. From Blue Eyes to the thing under my bed, white fanged, red eyed, claws, waiting, waiting.”

My name is Danny
Silence is cold, silence is a voice, a threat, a decision. Silence is helpless. Silence is I'm sorry. Silence is no. Silence is I'm afraid. Silence is there's nothing I can do. Silence is the one monster we're all afraid of.

My name is Matthew
Silence is warm, silence is a thought, a promise, a wish. Silence is strong. Silence is I know. Silence is yes. Silence is I'm stronger than you. Silence is you can't stop me. Silence is the one guardian we all want beside us.

Silence was Danny, consumed with the dawn of realization. Even something of such great beauty can be filled with the ugly of humanity. Humanity was a lip service to the beast that prowls within.