Kenneth Bernoska

28%
Flag icon
Pat gazed out the windows. The bus was nearly too big for the narrow two-lane road, half dirt and half asphalt. The tires ground over bumps and gashes that made the Greyhound’s underbelly squeak. The air was noticeably muggier, like breathing in warm water. Shoulder-high marsh grasses raced by. Beyond them, craggy mangroves looked like hanging trees.
Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview