Ghostly Demarcations - Taylor, Joe
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Fiction. Everyone is constantly admonishing our narrator to keep quiet: You're full of bull hockey, college boy...Shut up and drink your beer. Or, 'Shut up, ' Michelle replied. 'Shut up, ' Michelle repeated. Or, Don't look up. At least don't shout anything when you do. She's here, on the balcony. Or, 'Shit.' Sarah spit this out like a too-hot cinnamon ball, pulled me off the dental chair, and led me to the closet with the skeleton, shushing me with her fingers. Or, Hush, be still. Tacete, tacete. Everyone admonishes him, when all he wants to do is shout the wonders, the horrors, the terrors…mehr

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Produktbeschreibung
Fiction. Everyone is constantly admonishing our narrator to keep quiet: You're full of bull hockey, college boy...Shut up and drink your beer. Or, 'Shut up, ' Michelle replied. 'Shut up, ' Michelle repeated. Or, Don't look up. At least don't shout anything when you do. She's here, on the balcony. Or, 'Shit.' Sarah spit this out like a too-hot cinnamon ball, pulled me off the dental chair, and led me to the closet with the skeleton, shushing me with her fingers. Or, Hush, be still. Tacete, tacete. Everyone admonishes him, when all he wants to do is shout the wonders, the horrors, the terrors that he and his older adoptive brother Galen face as one spiritual incursion after another manifests in their lives, moving from trickster poltergeists to forlornly wandering ghosts to intent fetches to avenging revenants. Perhaps, instead of admonishing him, everyone would do better to heed his early, youthful deliberation: I never heard his voice again after that night. If we humans could always recognize the last words we were ever to hear from each person we knew or even met, our lives would perch as fragile indeed, gathering tragedy every listening moment to lean over a dark cellar, of dark farewell
Autorenporträt
Joe Taylor was born in Cincinnati and mysteriously whisked to Kentucky, where he spent a good deal of his more or less formative years. He chased unrequited love to Florida, where he worked as a pizza cook (for the nineteenth time) and where he finally had the sense to pursue a Ph.D. at Florida State University. He taught at several colleges before landing a tenure track job at Livingston University-now University of West Alabama. He and Tricia have lived there happily for over thirty years, being away from TV and sportball and being with a dozen stray dogs and three similar cats. He has directed Livingston Press . . . forever.