It was a dark story.

The villagers marked the time in two ways: before the swamp and after. What came before was good. And all that came after was not.

Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.

The scraps of information she’d gathered knocked against each other, like balls in a pinball machine in one of the arcades on the front. Secrets drew her in every time – the unsaid.

It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye.("For The Rest Of Her Life")

What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic.

There was something unbearable about the damp, dark earth closing over a coffin and the still, empty flesh that was inside. She had attended a hundred funerals, but when you really loved someone there was something too final about a burial. Something brutal.

An eerie atmosphere leeched from the soot-damaged walls. It was as if the house had died, and yet she felt she belonged here. It was as if the old place wanted to claim her from the grave.

The smell of tobacco usually reminded Mirabelle of being a child – coming downstairs in the morning when the dinner party her parents had hosted the night before was cleared away, but the scent of cigars still lingered.

The phone rang. Softly, in actuality, yet it seemed loud and ominous, as phones do at night in dark hotel rooms.

Are you taking us to hell?" I ask, and Denise answers with an ominous, "More or less.

He falls asleep believing he's been robbed, not knowing that the summoning of demons is almost always unwitting.

When 1:45 came, half the class left, and Danny Hupfer whispered, "If she gives you a cream puff after we leave, I'm going to kill you" - which was not something that someone headed off to prepare for his bar mitzvah should be thinking.When 1:55 came and the other half of the class left, Meryl Lee whispered, "If she gives you one after we leave, I'm going to do Number 408 to you." I didn't remember what Number 408 was, but it was probably pretty close to what Danny Hupfer had promised.Even Mai Thi looked at me with narrowed eyes and said, "I know your home." Which sounded pretty ominous.

It is a rather remarkable trick of the mind that there can be a wicked little voice that whispers in your ear that you’ve done it before and nothing happened, so why not do it again? Everything will be OK, it says. Things are bad now, but something will turn up. The good will prevail, you’ll be rescued, you’ll find the answer at the last minute. No one dies in a story…

He liked murder. Murder and long walks had been two of his favorite things when he was younger.

«Per­ho­nen is not here any­more,» it says, with a voice made of wings and whis­pers.