By Jeffrey Thomas
BONELAND by means of Jeffrey Thomas can be constrained to four hundred signed and numbered hardback copies. the canopy paintings and illustrations can be by way of Caniglia. writer: Bloodletting Press Publishers description: In 1893, the site visitors test their first touch with the human race. households move mad. mom and dad devote suicide. A president is assassinated. through 1918, within the bleak boneland of the twentieth Century, human assassins devote atrocities and worldwide wars are waged to sate the appetites of the site visitors. John Board is against the law scene photographer, whose nightmarish photos of human destruction are used as titillating leisure. Board's destiny is tied in with those unseen, unfathomable forces -- and so is his previous. the USA is drowning in a sea of blood as flashbulbs click on and film cameras roll. The visitors are right here to stick. BONELAND is a story of a not-so-alternate history...a tale of horror, technology fiction, and the surreal through Jeffrey Thomas, acclaimed writer of LETTERS FROM HADES, PUNKTOWN and MONSTROCITY.
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But he brought his hand back up again, and this time it held Tom Brick’s scuffed old semiautomatic. “Hey,” O’Tool said, and then he walked backwards very fast away from the bed, somehow managing to stay on his feet. His hand that had gripped the knife was spotted with Board’s blood, but the other hand had touched his chest and come away slick with his own. The haft of the knife jutting out of his belly like a lever waiting to be pulled, Board raised his heavy arm higher and fired the gun two more times before he lost consciousness.
Not…not this one. ” “It always is. But not by her husband. ” “Just shut your pie hole and do your work,” Crate chuckled, only half joking. “You’ll be sending the wrong man to the gallows,” Board argued quietly. ” “Now the ghoul’s a detective,” Mattock laughed. Finished with the photographs taken from the side, Board now moved in closer, for a direct downward angle. He splayed the tripod’s legs around the dead woman as if his camera were the gloating murderer, gazing down at his handiwork. He extended the skeletal legs to their full length, the top of the camera nearly touching the low ceiling.
He took just several steps inside the room. But through its duskiness, he could make out the form at its center. Johnny Board’s mother dangled there, a kicked-over stepladder lying on the floor below her bare feet. She wore a thin nightdress, her dark hair in disarray. Her head was tipped forward, her eyes closed, her tongue protruding from between her lips and the area around her jaw discolored where the blood had settled over the past few days. Likewise, her slender arms shaded from milky white at her shoulders to very dark at her forearms and hands, as though she wore sheer black gloves.
Boneland by Jeffrey Thomas