The Big Dark Sky

by Dean Koontz

soughing

Sigh

bosk

Yep

Under a bipolar sky—dour with thunderheads across the north, festive with gold-orange light to the south

Uh huh… i was thinking the very same thing…

and keen and rattle in the rising wind, their graveclothes of pale dust tattering away on the surging gusts.

Ohholycow

sward

Swoon

fecund

I can smell this word

hie

Yep

abattoir.

Puhleeze

skirling,

Gorgeous