More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Their little girl, Annie Mae. Their love.
The world splintered and fell away. All of existence swallowed whole by Maggie’s relentless screams. She was hunched over her husband, rocking his lifeless body, when something inside her snapped.
Go back. His voice was a somber blues note in her head. I’ll be waiting.
“The candles are burning,” his associate began. “Ever burning. Some are just starting; others are nearing their end. I have come to gift you with news of another ending.”
Savannah was a city built on top of its dead. Diners, gas stations, even schools squatted on blacktop and concrete that buried days gone by.
An eternity of yesterdays, amounting to three months and six days ago, Francis had died.
The only people who were truly dead were those who had been forgotten.
Jackson raised a shapely dark eyebrow. “I always told your husband if he didn’t hurry up and marry you, I would.”
She didn’t want to dash her hopes outright. Having a dream was no small matter for a girl child.
There is no greater terror than hearing the scream of someone you love.
“What he means to say is that death is not yours to see or foretell. I am the keeper of the candles.”
“They call me Death. I prefer the name Reaper, if you will. I am the keeper of the candles,” the creature said, gliding over to the candles like a farmer tending his flock. “One for each life in the world. The candles are burning, ever burning.”
