By D. A. Dalessandro
There's a horror as previous because the sea. for hundreds of years, it has stalked unsuspecting sailors and is actually the stuff of legends. deadly and constant, it strikes through evening and moves all of sudden. within the 12 months 1856, it has come to the remoted island of Nantucket to feed. Screenwriter D.A. Dalessandro ("Snakes On A Plane") channels Bram Stoker and Jules Verne in his meticulously researched twist at the Gothic horror novel. whilst Harvard scientific pupil Balthazar Andrews arrives to ascertain a physique stumbled on tired of blood, he's drawn into an event that shatters his realizing of technology and the wildlife. fortunately, he acquires a stalwart ally-eighteen-year-old Prudence Mott, a feisty Quaker with a devotion to the works of Edgar Allan Poe. As our bodies pile up, Balthazar and Prudence assemble an eccentric naturalist, a crusty soldier of fortune and a Samoan whale hunter in a determined quest to damage the creature they name "Anathema."
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Extra info for Anathema
The cramps in my legs and calves were getting worse. The blisters on my feet burst two days ago and the raw skin now rubbed against the synthetic leather of my broken down Tuned Air Max running shoes, aggravating the tender flesh. Soon the sores would be infected and I wouldn’t be able to run. I’d have to fight. But that was days away. Hopefully by then I’d be deep in the desert. Safe from the night things. I jogged up the freeway entrance ramp dodging in between cars. As soon as I hit the freeway I knew that this had been a bad idea.
Still, she had been prepared to settle for a reasonable facsimile. It had been the happiest moment of her life when she tried the dress on in front of the mirror. But that was before the darkness came. That was before the screams and the blood and the horrible sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bone. Lisa changed from Beethoven to a mournful nocturne from Wagner. Her face darkened as the terrible memories wormed their way in past the music. There had been no news flash warning them of the danger.
I yelled, loud enough for everyone to hear. ” Her strangled sobs were the only reply to my insensitivity. The agony of that heart, shattered, stomped, and immolated by my harsh words, echoed from deep within her. It was the sound of torture. The sound of utter hopelessness and despair. My own heart broke under the weight of that painful dirge but I still did not return to apologize or comfort her. I kept walking, silent in my shame and self-loathing. What had I done? It felt like I had just awaken from a dream to find that in my sleep I had drowned an infant or bashed open the head of a baby seal.