Michael Barnes
Sunny Moraine's horror novella is a brilliantly creepy story of an unfolding 'pandemic' apocalypse of a violent rage spread by eye contact. But this is no CDC zombie uprising survivalist story (not that there is anything wrong with that love your work Last Of Us) but a first person perspective of a young woman Riley, who has left the city to huddle in the small house her grandparents owned, somewhere in the country. While lots of humans have died—more accurately, killed each other and themselves—there is enough infrastructure left that she can order groceries via her computer. When the story opens, Riley throws her still-functioning phone into the lake. She herself isn’t quite sure why, except for a feeling that there is literally no one to connect with.
The story unfolds from her personal view and so you wonder how much of this is real and how much is it Riley's decent into the madness.
And I don't care what anyone says crows are creepy, nothing ends well if a crow is your herald of change.
Sunny Moraine's horror novella is a brilliantly creepy story of an unfolding 'pandemic' apocalypse of a violent rage spread by eye contact. But this is no CDC zombie uprising survivalist story (not that there is anything wrong with that love your work Last Of Us) but a first person perspective of a young woman Riley, who has left the city to huddle in the small house her grandparents owned, somewhere in the country. While lots of humans have died—more accurately, killed each other and themselves—there is enough infrastructure left that she can order groceries via her computer. When the story opens, Riley throws her still-functioning phone into the lake. She herself isn’t quite sure why, except for a feeling that there is literally no one to connect with.
The story unfolds from her personal view and so you wonder how much of this is real and how much is it Riley's decent into the madness.
And I don't care what anyone says crows are creepy, nothing ends well if a crow is your herald of change.