He imagined that he had been hypnotized by the moon, thrown into one of those trances that were common enough at night, on lonely stretches of road, to solitary drivers. “That’s it,” he whispered to himself, “I was led astray by the moon. But now the moon’s brought me home safe again . . .”
Holy moonlit blueberry bush! What a ride!
Cold Moon over Babylon is a horror story at its finest … and at its most horrible. It is difficult to tell how much of what happens in the novel can be explained by the psychotic state of mind of the main character but I would like to think that phantoms of his mind were actual physical manifestations of a town that seeks revenge against a sick and twisted individual.
As mentioned before, I am utterly in love with McDowell’s writing. It was atmospheric, tense, truly horrific, and yet, utterly addictive.
Now I need to find some hot chocolate and blanket.
All the tombstones glared suddenly brighter, so bright that for a moment he lost sight of the figure of the girl. He looked behind him. The moon, enormous, featureless, with a staggering incandescence, hovered directly over the cemetery. With anything so bright so close, he felt he should have been burned, but all he felt was a creeping chill across his shoulders, a prickly dampness peeling across his neck.