October 19, 1983, a firing squad led by Deputy Prime Minister Bernard Coard, machine-gunned Prime Minister Maurice Bishop and members of the New Jewel Movement in the Fort Rupert courtyard. On 25 October, the USA invaded Granada.
He knows the end is near when he begins to dream of himself as he is, rather than as he was. No more dreams of bounding through the woods, rows of trees admiring his movement and cheering as he passes.
There’s someone out there we’re based on. We learned that from the first Sardine book. Just like Dexter’s based on someone who probably worked at an Ecclesiastical Vestment shop.
Alright Mumma, I’ll give you a hug. You take my daylight from me, you take my body from me, and now you take my friend from me. But you’re that one habit I just can’t seem to kick.
Did he follow her around like a puppy? Watch over her? Do everything for her? Think of everything for her, but not really everything, only the things he could imagine? Perhaps she liked it for a while, and then didn’t.
The mushroom cloud bloomed in malignant symmetry. Luna City, twenty million people, gone. Across the conference table, Kev let out a gasp. Beside me, Cierra sobbed uncontrollably and bowed her head.
Hook a fish, and she’ll fight for her freedom. Remove her from seawater and she’s like a person pulled down into crushing dark where she’ll thrash for breath.
He took a bite of Mrs. Higginbottom’s cheese scone—it was magnificent, robust, and slightly stale—and then he began to laugh, a loud, raw sound that was immediately swallowed by the perfect, liberating silence of the winter storm.