The book shut with a thud. Why didn't they leave him alone? Did they think they could all have him? Were they so stupid they thought that?Why did they keep coming every night? After five months, you'd think they'd give up and try elsewhere. He went over to the bar and made himself another drink. As he turned back to his chair he heard stones rattlingdown across the roof and landing with thuds in the shrubbery beside the house. Above the noises, he heard BenCortman shout as he always shouted. "Come out, Neville!" Someday I'll get that bastard, he thought as he took a big swallow of the bitter drink. burberry mens coats
Someday I'll knock a stakeright through his goddamn chest. I'll make one a foot long for him, a special one with ribbons on it, the bastard. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd soundproof the house. His fingers drew into whiteknuckled fists. He couldn't standthinking about those women. cheap north faces If he didn't hear them, maybe he wouldn't think about them. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. The music ended and he took a stack of records off the turntable and slid them back into their cardboardenvelopes. Now he could hear them even more clearly outside. He reached for the first new record he could get andput it on the turntable and twisted the volume up to its highest point. burberry short trench
"The Year of the Plague," by Roger Leie, filled his ears. Violins scraped and whined, tympani thudded like thebeats of a dying heart, flutes played weird, atonal melodies. With a stiffening of rage, he wrenched up the record and snapped it over his right knee. He'd meant to break itlong ago. He walked on rigid legs to the kitchen and flung the pieces into the trash box. Then he stood in the darkkitchen, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched, hands damped over his ears.
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