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Aliya Whiteley

The Beauty

Bold and striking post-apocalyptic fantasy from Unsung Stories. The Beauty is a vision of a future as dark as our own fears. Somewhere away from the cities and towns, a group of men and boys gather around the fire each night to listen to their stories in the Valley of the Rocks. For when the women are all gone the rest of your life is all there is for everyone. The men are waiting to pass into the night. The story shall be told to preserve the past. History has gone back to its aural roots and the power of words is strong. Meet Nate, the storyteller, and the new secrets he brings back from the woods. William rules the group with youth and strength, but how long can that last? And what about Uncle Ted, who spends so much time out in the woods? Hear the tales, watch a myth be formed. For what can man hope to achieve in a world without women? When the past is only grief how long should you hold on to it? What secrets can the forest offer to change it all? Discover the Beauty.
95 trykte sider
Oprindeligt udgivet
2014
Udgivelsesår
2014
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Vurderinger

  • sachaallenhar delt en vurderingsidste år
    🚀Opslugende

    WOW A HORRIFYING TALE BEAUTIFULLY TOLD. I AM LAYING OFF MUSHROOMS FOR A WHILE!!!!

  • CrushedUnderAStackOfBookshar delt en vurderingfor 2 år siden

    This is insane. It starts off good and then it turns to pure madness

  • nyxdvesparhar delt en vurderingfor 2 år siden
    👍Værd at læse
    🔮Overraskende
    🎯Læseværdig
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Citater

  • kurenaihar citeretfor 4 år siden
    Now it is me and it is inevitable, and nothing inevitable is ever that bad. If I have to live with it, then how can it be unbearable?
  • Valder Goudgehar citeretfor 3 måneder siden
    ‘They are growing from the bodies of women.’
    ‘That’s true, Nate, but that doesn’t make it important.’
    ‘Are we not important, then? We grew that way too.’

    -

  • Sara Boismierhar citeretfor 7 måneder siden
    This loneliness I feel is of the womb, borne by women. I was sixteen when they all died and I thought I understood this loss, but it comes to me that I didn’t know what women gave to the world. It wasn’t about their lips, their eyes or the gentle quality of their voices. It was about the way that all men are a part of them. And now we are part of nothing.

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