Don't Fear the Reaper (The Indian Lake Trilogy, #2)

by Stephen Graham Jones

As Martin Luther says on that poster by your chalkboard, “Blood alone moves the wheels of history.” Our wheels are moving just fine, thank you. Just, don’t look in the rearview mirror if you can help it.

John W. Gardner says that History never looks like history when you’re living through it, yes. What does it look like when you can’t stop living through it, though? When it’s not even history to you yet?

Girls without mothers fall apart on the inside when someone like Christine Gillette remembers them, notices their new hair.

But there aren’t any real fighters anymore. Just killers and the killed.

It’s all about perspective. It’s all about what you choose to build your psychological and emotional house on. It’s all about what light you choose to shine on the past, and the present.

Fifty thousand ancestors, going back and back, each of them a final girl.

She’s just a dead kid, though. Another dead young woman, all her promise leaking into the snow, all her plans pooling in the skin of her back.

Freddy never uses a gun, does he? Ghostface? Michael? Jade can’t even imagine Michael Myers using a gun. They’re so impersonal, so “all at once” instead of “one at a time.”