Black House
Stephen King, Peter Straub
Language: English
Pages: 540
ISBN: B0088UNQDW
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
This is the 2009 Random House epub edition. The newer 2012 Pocket Books (Simon & Schuster) epub is also uploaded, which has better paragraph formatting, and possibly corrects other mistakes.
Twenty years ago, a boy named Jack Sawyer travelled to a parallel universe called The Territories to save his mother and her Territories "twinner" from a premature and agonizing death that would have brought cataclysm to the other world. Now Jack is a retired Los Angeles homicide detective living in the nearly nonexistent hamlet of Tamarack, WI. He has no recollection of his adventures in the Territories and was compelled to leave the police force when an odd, happenstance event threatened to awaken those memories.
When a series of gruesome murders occur in western Wisconsin that are reminiscent of those committed several decades earlier by a real-life madman named Albert Fish, the killer is dubbed "The Fisherman" and Jack's buddy, the local chief of police, begs Jack to help his inexperienced force find him. But is this merely the work of a disturbed individual, or has a mysterious and malignant force been unleashed in this quiet town? What causes Jack's inexplicable waking dreams, if that is what they are, of robins' eggs and red feathers? It's almost as if someone is trying to tell him something. As that message becomes increasingly impossible to ignore, Jack is drawn back to the Territories and to his own hidden past, where he may find the soul-strength to enter a terrifying house at the end of a deserted track of forest, there to encounter the obscene and ferocious evils sheltered within it.
Demon Apocalypse (Demonata, Book 6)
The Curse of Camp Cold Lake (Goosebumps, Book 56)
stand frozen in place, lie curled like infants on the mats; they count on their fingers and scribble in notebooks; they twitch, yawn, weep, stare into space and into themselves. Some of them wear green hospital robes, others civilian clothes of all kinds: T-shirts and shorts, sweat suits, running outfits, ordinary shirts and slacks, jerseys and pants. No one wears a belt, and none of the shoes have laces. Two muscular men with close-cropped hair and in brilliant white T-shirts sit at one of the
brown two-story on the corner.” “I can find it,” Jack says, and steps down a little harder on the Ram’s gas pedal. “I’m on my way now.” “What’s your twenty, man?” “Still Arden, but I’m rolling. I can be there in maybe half an hour.” “Fuck!” There is an alarming crash-rattle in Jack’s ear as somewhere on Nailhouse Row Beezer slams his fist against something. Probably the nearest wall. “The fuck’s wrong with you, man? Mouse is goin’ down, I mean fast. We’re doin’ our best—those of us who’re
if he is going to burst into sobs or shouts of laughter, Jack experiences a brief wave of dizziness and leans heavily against the kitchen counter. Jive-ass turkey, he remembers his mother saying. Lily had been describing her late husband’s recently deceased partner in the days after her suspicious accountants discovered that the partner, Morgan Sloat, had been diverting into his own pockets three-fourths of the income from Sawyer & Sloat’s astonishingly vast real estate holdings. Every year
is the last thing, I mean, the last thing in the world I want to do?” “Of course it has,” Henry says. “But—and again I hope you’ll forgive me, Jack—here you are, the person I know you are, with the skills you have, which are certainly far beyond Dale’s and probably well beyond all these other guys’, and I can’t help wondering what the hell your problem is.” “I don’t have a problem,” Jack says. “I’m a civilian.” “You’re the boss. We might as well listen to the rest of the Barenboim.” Henry runs
closes her eyes, and presses her fingertips to her forehead, giving Pete Wexler an excellent opportunity, of which he does not fail to take full advantage, to admire the shape of her breasts underneath her blouse. It may not be as great as the view from the bottom of the ladder, but it’ll do, all right, yes it will. As far as Ebbie’s dad is concerned, a sight like Rebecca Vilas’s Hottentots pushing out against her dress is like a good fire on a cold night. They are bigger than you’d expect on a
