Except after dark, or under the pale light of the moon. Or in a very private doctor's office at Clifton Heights General Hospital, where no one can hear you scream. Or on a road out of town that never ends, or in an old house sitting on the edge of town with a mind - and will - of its own.
Maybe you shouldn't have left the interstate, my friend. Maybe you should've driven on to the next town.
But you didn't. You saw our sign, turned down our road, figuring on just a short stay. And maybe it will be.
Or maybe you'll never leave.
Anyway, pay a visit to The Skylark Diner. I'll be there. Pull up a chair and let me tell you about our town. It's nice enough, it really is.
Except after dark. Or on cold winter days when no one is around, and you're all alone...
From the introduction:
"His
prose is as lean and hungry as his aspect. It’s a pleasure to read
because it carries you along with the effortless pace of a massive
freight train on seamless titanium rails.
Sometimes
Lucia is playful such as his nod in the direction of the town of
Arkham and all the attendant mythologies that dwell therein.
Sometimes, as in “Mr. Nobody,” he writes with a
flensed-to-the-bone honesty that leaves you with a terrible taste in
your mouth.
But in all
cases, he writes with a clarity that is stark and real and you are
left with images and emotions that do not leave you when you turn the
page. In other words, Lucia writes tales that stick with you, that
are memorable.
And believe
me, they are the best kind." - Tom
Monteleone
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