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No one said hello or even made eye contact. And that sense of non-existence had left him with a permanent fear of being forgotten by the world.
Birds bickered.
The house held an air of elegance and refinery, but in a cold, unkind way, as though it judged every person to step through its doors and could show a level of malicious spite towards anyone it deemed unworthy.
Daniel wished he could cuddle it, but he knew that would only upset it more. Giving it a warm environment was the best he could do.
They were delicate and fragile, and the bunch held no more than five stems, but Daniel was moved by the sight.
hessian sacks.
It will be fine. Go and season the door, just like regular people do all the time.
The noise was angry and grieving, and the emotions in it made him want to cower into a ball.
The words came out of the darkest corner of the room. When Daniel stared at it, he thought he saw the glint of two eyes.
It protected him from the shadows that seemed to sprout from Bran like a dozen discordant spider legs.
The road to Flinton had been raised to protect it from floods and snows.
It wasn’t a close sit-for-hours-and-chat kind of friendship. But a loyalty existed,
It left him feeling like a man adrift in the ocean, clutching at seaweed and sea foam no matter how many times they collapsed under his fingers.
Myricks descendants grew sickly and strange.
The woods seemed noisy that day. Birds and insects clamoured to be heard,
his vein-mottled skin looked almost ghostly in the moonlight.
