検索キーワード： 著者 "Steve Vernon" すべてのカテゴリー

“I hate cats more than any on the planet,” Grandpa always told us. “A dog you can take hunting and a moose you can shoot, but a cat only gets in the way and barfs on your carpet in the nighttime, most usually in the very spot that you step on first thing in the morning with your bare feet - and then you are left walking around the whole day long smelling of cat-barfed-on-footprints.”

Just imagine you walk into a cheesy old greasy-spoon diner, the kind that ought to hand out antacid along with a napkin, knife, and fork. You ask the waitress for eggs and bacon, and she brings you a plate with live chicken on it. I mean, feathers and beak and the whole bonanza. Just think about a mix of Kafka and O'Henry and you are somewhere close to the mark.

Texas Jack Page, on the eve of his 48th birthday, emptied his last seven cartons of books, placing them volume by volume across his front door - a one-man human cask of Amontillado interring himself inside a shining silver Airstream trailer sized aluminum tomb of tomes.

It started out as a simple drive down a country road. Oh sure, Hillman was thinking about suicide. Oh sure, the dead woman is in his back seat was goading him on. What was the point? Why bother living? Who am I? It turns out Coyote has something to say about that. Coyote...and a troll.

In 1691, the town of Crossfall taught the witch Thessaly how to die. They beat her, they shot her, they hung her--but nothing worked. When they finally tried to bury her alive Thessaly set the field against them. The first man died as a gust of wind harrowed the meat from his bones. A root,flung like a dirty javelin, cut a second man down. Many more deaths followed. The Preacher Fell impaled the witch upon her very own broom but she dragged him down into the field to wait for three more centuries.

This is the final book of the trilogy - a fat monstrous volume of pure undiluted scarecrow terror.

In 1691, the town of Crossfall taught the witch Thessaly how to die. They beat her; they shot her; they hung her - but nothing worked. When they finally tried to bury her alive, Thessaly set the field against them. The first man died as a gust of wind harrowed the meat from his bones. A root, flung like a dirty javelin, cut a second man down. Many more deaths followed. The Preacher Fell impaled the witch upon her very own broom, but she dragged him down into the field to wait for three more centuries.

In 1691 the town of Crossfall taught the witch Thessaly how to die. They beat her, they shot her, they hung her - but nothing worked. When they finally tried to bury her alive Thessaly set the field against them. The first man died as a gust of wind harrowed the meat from his bones. A root, flung like a dirty javelin, cut a second man down. Many more deaths followed. The Preacher Fell impaled the witch upon her very own broom, but she dragged him down into the field to wait for three more centuries.

A short story involving a Celtic water spirit (the kelpie), an assassin, a librarian, a ghost, and a Santa-mugging street gang - a wild weird paranormal romance shoot-em-up story - written for listeners who hate to listen to romance.

So how does a kelpie, an ex-assassin high school librarian, Santa Claus, the Flying Dutchman, and the Krampus wind up going toe-to-toe with a Martian Expeditionary Force in a highly unidentifiable flying gravy bowl? Why don't you grab this audiobook and hear for yourself?

It happened just yesterday or perhaps the day before. The bombs were dropped. No one knew why. Whatever the reason, due diligence was undoubtedly done and all aspects were carefully considered. Certainly the motion was passed around the Senate a time or two. After all, an election was coming. Every vestige of civilization was blown away, save for a few stubborn traces barnacled along the grim fringes of existence. Like say, maybe the Maritimes....

Love is one of those four-letter words that people like to throw around, but sometimes love can be one of the meanest and nastiest games in town. If you have ever had your heart broken - then this audiobook is for you. If you enjoy the taste of strong meat - then this audiobook is for you. If you've got a sense of weird that is honed as sharp as a cutthroat's knife - then this audiobook is for you. Here are three of the strangest love stories you have ever read.

His name was Adam Kyler. He had eyes as black as licorice jujubes and a spit curl hooked across his forehead that reminded me of a young Superman. He was nine years old. It wasn't his fault he was standing in the alley, but I shot him just the same.... Dopple Dribble is a story of revenge from beyond the grave and I guarantee you without a shadow of a doubt that after you hear this story, the very next time that you hear the sound of some kid walking down the sidewalk under the streetlights dribbling a basketball you are going to spend the rest of the night scared stiff.

Water is a liar. If you tell a story with water it cannot be trusted and it will wash away in the first hard rain or in the tears of a long good cry. And stories told in blood and stone stick longer by far. Listen. Finbar Tanner is telling a story to his son, Isaac. It is a story of love, desire, and sacrifice. It is a story of blood and water and stones. It is a story of the deeper currents that flow within a man's heart. It is a story of the sea.

Meet Bass Clayton, a bounty killer turned professional drunkard. Silver Grimes is the man who inadvertently turned Bass Clayton into a drunk; after Bass accidentally shot Silver's arm off with an eight gauge shotgun. Sally Jezebel has a secret that she is keeping from both of them. Their lives are going to turn when Newt Gallagher comes riding into Willy Jake's bar on top of Pritcher Targate's prize sow. What you have got to ask yourself is just how far one man will go for revenge?

You can smell that long-dying aroma of Autumn in the air. Kids are talking trick or treat and the leaves are already screaming at you in red and yellow and deep golden rust as they prepare for one final parachute down into the dirt. The tombstones are talking amongst themselves and winter is hiding just around the corner. It is the time of the year when people draw around the wood stove and the campfire and whisper stories of death and omens and ghosts and things that don't even have a name.

Nobody really knew how long the old Funnel mansion had stood empty, waiting up there high on Carpenter's Hill like a child's forgotten lunch box, any more than anybody knew just how long that old cat had squatted in behind the screen of the front porch window. Three young boys are about to find out just exactly what the dark and horrifying secret is behind that cat. Only two of them will survive.

Detours are amazing creatures. A detour can cut your existence short or it can lead you down a long road that will linger far into the distant reaches of eternity. These unexpected tangents, which people stumble across nearly every day, will haunt you in a frighteningly familiar fashion. I offer you 18 eerie tales of fantasy, horror, science fiction, and all around strangeness that will take you to the edge of the map and then nudge you just a little bit further.

This is a story set in war-torn Okinawa - back in the final days of the Pacific Campaign of World War II. The story is told from the point of view of a young Kamikaze pilot preparing to fly his fighter plane into the side of an American battleship. It is a story of guilt, loneliness, memory, and the taste of the sea. Oh, and there's a sea monster as well. I expect I ought to mention that...

Olan Walker was first out of the slat truck and he could have slid through one of the slats. That man was nothing but lank. He was as lean as a dog in Lent. He was as lean as hunger poured thinner than a spoon full of prison soup. He looked like he ate nothing but wind and shadow all his life. If there was a king and queen of skinny; a duke of raw bone, an earl of gaunt, and a prince of scrawny - well Olan Walker was the lord high ruler of them all.