By Stephen King
Collage pupil Devin Jones took the summer season task at Joyland hoping to put out of your mind the woman who broke his center. yet he wound up dealing with anything way more negative: the legacy of a vicious homicide, the destiny of a loss of life baby, and darkish truths approximately life—and what comes after—that might switch his international eternally.
A riveting tale approximately love and loss, approximately becoming up and turning out to be old—and approximately those that don't get to do both simply because dying comes for them ahead of their time—Joyland is Stephen King on the height of his storytelling powers. With the entire emotional influence of King masterpieces equivalent to The eco-friendly Mile and The Shawshank Redemption, Joyland is straight away a secret, a horror tale, and a bittersweet coming-of-age novel, one who will depart even the main hard-boiled reader profoundly moved.
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Additional resources for Joyland (Hard Case Crime, Book 112)
She opened her eyes and saw the ceiling. On either side were shelves of groceries: cans of soup and chili on the left, cookies and crackers on the right. Even without moving, she knew what had been done to her. She could feel the gritty, cool wood under her bare skin. She could feel hot areas where her skin had been mauled. Her nipples burned and itched. So did her vagina. She felt stretched and battered inside. Her eyes filled with tears. Raising her head, she looked down at herself. Her breasts were red as if they had been wrung.
She leapt onto the stoop. Sliding her key into the lock, she glanced over her shoulder. Her blue Granada stood in the driveway, looking as it should, as if nothing were wrong. For an instant, Lacey questioned herself. Had she imagined the cough? No. He’s in there. In the trunk. She shoved open the front door, shut and bolted it behind her, and rushed across the living room. She dropped her handbag on the dining room table. Skirting the table, she entered her bedroom and flicked on a light. She rushed to her bed.
Laveda drew out her dagger. Standing near the fire, she raised it high and slowly turned in a circle. ” they roared. The drums rumbled. The congregation, still kneeling, swayed to the rhythm. ” Laveda yelled, wandering among her people. “It flows and winds. We shall drink from its shores, this night. We shall drink its all powerful waters and take its power into ourselves. The river is endless. Its waters flow forever. ” She stopped and placed her open hand on the head of the beautiful young mulatto.