Michael Austin The Black Drape

Michael Austin The Black DrapeTalantbek Chekirov Tender PassionTalantbek Chekirov Missing YouTalantbek Chekirov Embrace in ParisTalantbek Chekirov Close Encounter
it’s a woman holding a torch over her head‑‘
Victor slowly turned back to the front of the book.
‘Yes?’ he said, carefully.
‘And she keeps on trying to tell me something, something I can’t make out, about waking something, and then there He went back to the chair, which was promising to become annoyingly uncomfortable within half an hour, and turned down the lamp.
Something in the hill. That was the danger.
The more immediate danger was that he was going to fall asleep, too.
He sat in the dark and worried. How did you wake up a sleepwalker, anywayare a lot of lights and this roar, like a lion or a tiger or something, you know? And then I wake up.’Victor’s finger idly traced the outline of the mountain under the stars.‘It’s probably just a dream,’ he said. ‘It probably doesn’t mean anything.’Of course, Holy Wood Hill wasn’t pointed. But perhaps it was once, in the days when there had been a city where now there was a bay. Good grief. Something must have really hated this place.‘You don’t remember anything else about the dream, by any chance?’ he asked, with feigned casualness.There was no answer. He crept to the bed.She was asleep.