By Dan Simmons
Retail ePub. this can be the Sequel to 1991's Summer Night
A once-respected collage professor and novelist, Dale Stewart has sabotaged his profession and his marriage -- and now darkness is last in on him. within the final hours of Halloween he has lower back to the demise city of Elm Haven, his boyhood domestic, the place he hopes to discover peace in isolation. yet getting into a long-deserted farmhouse at the some distance outskirts of city -- the one-time place of abode of a wierd and impressive pal who misplaced his younger lifestyles in a grisly "accident" again within the poor summer season of 1960 -- is barely the most recent in his lengthy succession of modern blunders. simply because Dale isn't by myself right here. He has been to this residence of shadows through deepest demons who're now twisting his fact into frightening new kinds. And a thick, blanketing early snow is commencing to fall ...
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Additional resources for A Winter Haunting (Seasons of Horror, Book 2)
His face had been slammed hard against the steering wheel, crushing his nose. His dead eyes gazed up at me, giving me a cold stare which made me feel as if he was blaming me for what had just happened. Blood was pouring from what was left of his nose and from his mouth which hung wide open. It wasn’t dripping; for the best part of a minute the thick crimson blood was literally pouring from the body and pooling on the floor around the dead man’s feet. I didn’t have a fucking clue what to do. For a few seconds I just stood there like a bloody fool, first looking up and down the silent road and then staring at the jet of steam which was shooting up from the battered car’s radiator and into the cold morning air.
After a few hours he had decided to try and find help. He’d driven the van around aimlessly until it had run out of fuel and spluttered and died. Rather than try and refuel the van he decided to simply take another vehicle. It was while he was changing cars that he heard the music. Having quickly disposed of its dead driver, Carl arrived at the hall at day break in a luxury company car. Michael Collins had just about given up. Too afraid to go back home or indeed to go anywhere that he recognised, he was sat in the freezing cold in the middle of a park.
I dropped down to my knees and threw up in the grass at the side of the road. Once the nausea had passed I dragged myself up onto my feet and walked back to the van. I reached inside for the phone, realising that although there was nothing I could do for the poor bastard in the car, I had to do something. In a strange way it was easier knowing that he was dead. I could just tell the police that I’d been driving along and I’d found the car crashed into the tree. No-one needed to know that I’d been around when the accident took place.
A Winter Haunting (Seasons of Horror, Book 2) by Dan Simmons