The unbelievable intricacy of a late autumn terror. A terror so pervasive, it is a part of sleeping, even. Mausami's unborn seeps it in through the amniotic fluid that keeps him safe (safe?) in his bubble of pre-life.Peter Jaxon would count as a foolhardy non-achiever in 2013. Today, he is seen as a visionary, for he can see what other's cannot: The possibility of switching off the lights after dark.
Soo feels it as an invisible flow in her veins: the Littles, blood, corpses. Tiny ones. She looks again at the humming quiet of the place she knows as home, the throbbing dark of the trees beyond the wall. Instinctively, Soo reaches out to touch that Dark: slithery, like a snake's oiled back. She feels, for one long minute, claustrophobic. A pitiably small aquarium of a village, kept alive by just the lights -- so very fragile. Soo waits for the terror to pass. It does not.
Her, so afraid? And her, a Watcher? Soo shrinks from the afternoon, as if form cold.
All is not going to be well...
For those of you who have not, please read The Passage by Justin Cronin. This post is my tribute to the book.
