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From the Corner of His Eye

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Dean Koontz
Dean Koontz

Renowned American author known for his suspense and horror novels. He has been writing since the 1970s and his works have been widely popular, winning numerous international awards. more

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“The world has become a planetary Nozick Experience Machine, mediated by the ubiquitous smartphone. Everyone is plugged in, desperate for their pleasure fix, for their likes, their approvals. They have become addicted to hyperreality, yet hyperreality is soulless. It can’t satisfy exactly because it lacks, well, reality. You have been told you can have it all, you can have the perfect life. You can’t. However, you can be presented with images and experiences as if you had achieved it all. But you haven’t. You have to buy into the fantasy, but deep down there’s something missing. What is missing is you. You yourself have become hyperreal, which means you have lost the real you, and nothing can make up for the loss of yourself. You have become fixed to your persona, your mask, and now there is nothing beneath the mask. When you take the mask off at the end of an exhausting day of faking it, there’s no real face underneath, just a faked face, or a blank space. We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men. Mistah Kurtz, he dead.”

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Book:The Seer of Unreality: The Hyperreality Wars
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“How dare you speak to me like that?' She tried to pull away, but his strength was too great, a conquering strength that held her fast, his hands tightly at her waist, his eyes burning into her. 'I will speak to you as I choose!' His lips tightened at her anger. 'The bride is there for you to see. It is finished, over. Forget him. I would not have allowed it in any case, even if Rina had not existed. You're mine, exactly what I want.”

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“People admire inner bonfires that burn so bright, and out of ignorance to these things, they gather around and think that the bonfire is some kind of blessing on their behalf, is some kind of untouched thing that knows only the purity of everything. It's all ignorance. The larger the bonfire, and the brighter it burns, the more evident the fact that it has consumed more wood and more air than the smaller ones. You burn because you have to burn. And you're not burning for others, you're not burning to be a blessing; you burn because you have to burn.”

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“Coloring a mandala is a silent dialogue with your subconscious.”

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Book:Mindfulness Coloring Book for Adults & Teens: 50-Day Color by Number Program for Stress Relief with Light Matrix Mandalas and Positive Affirmations
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“Emeline turned around to discover the biggest, blackest horse breathing on her face. She stared up into enormous golden eyes. Flecks of red dusted the horse's irises, like a fire sparking, and her hot breath smelled like smoke. Holy hell. Emeline stepped quickly back----straight into the boy. The scent of him enveloped her: like crushed pine needles and oiled leather. "This is Lament." "Uh-huh," she whispered, staring at the massive beast, which was pawing the ground as if to say, I'm getting impatient! Let us leave! When she threw back her head, those golden eyes flickered red.”

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“At last, Tink realized, she did have a mission. One born of her own passion. It would involve magic--- fiery, perhaps more concentrated, more ripened than the standard fairy fare. Not dark, as such. But tinted, stained, perhaps. She'd have to find a way to persuade the elders that the moment required such measures. She found herself more than up to the task.”

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“All at once the fairies burst from their corner, lit brighter than a galaxy. The elders darted straight to the captives. But the younger pixies, led by Tinker Bell, zipped and darted around the pirates, sprinkling enough pixie dust to spark. Enough pixie dust, that was, to burn. "We're on fire!" Smee shouted. "Run for the water!" "The boy will escape!" Hook snarled. "You'll all be staying right here!" The pirate crew wanted to obey their captain, of course--- but the fairies were relentless. And their dust rained down like acid. Tink found that the unease that came from always trying to contain her outsized feelings was greatly alleviated with this opportunity to expend some of that wild, raw emotion. It was thrilling. She threw her head back, laughing as the crew retreated. Then it was just Tink, Hook, and Peter. The Darlings and Lost Boys had been released by the elders. Peter was still strung up, bobbing in his restraints like a kite. Amid the chaos he looked at Tinker Bell with amusement. "Came back for us, did ya?" His eyes twinkled. I came back... for me.”

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Book:A Twisted Tale Anthology
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