By Clive Barker
Reissue of the hugely acclaimed mystery via the world's most eminent darkish fantasist. WEAVEWORLD is an epic event of the mind's eye. It starts off with a carpet within which a global of rapture and attraction is hiding; an international which involves existence, alerting the darkish forces and starting a determined conflict to maintain the final vestiges of magic which Humankind nonetheless has entry to. WEAVEWORLD is a e-book of visions and horrors, a narrative of quest, significant struggles, of affection and of wish. it's a triumph of mind's eye and storytelling, an experience, a nightmare, a promise! 'Barker's fecundity of invention is past compliment. In an international of hard-bitten horror and originality, Clive Barker dislocates your mind.' THE MAIL ON SUNDAY.
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Additional info for Weaveworld (Voyager Classics)
Sample text
Will squeezed between barrels and crates, being careful to keep out of the way of the oarsmen. He huddled down as it began to rain, feeling the drops soak through his shirt. As the barge reached the side of the ship, he realized how big it was. Even loaded with cargo and sitting low in the water, her sides dwarfed the little barge. By the time the small vessel was tied to the ship and the cargo transferred, Will was soaked. He looked more like a rescued rat than a seaman. A grizzled sailor wearing a round, flat-brimmed hat, blue breeches, and a blue-and-white checked shirt greeted him.
Epp caught the boy’s admiring glance. ” he shouted. ” The words sounded playful, but Will knew it was a taunt. Just then Jack came up behind him, carrying a bucket. “It’s harder than it looks,” he warned. ” Will looked up and could see it was true. The sails were full, but on deck there was but the slightest breeze. Just then Mr. Smithson came into view. He stopped in front of the Will Northaway and the Quest for Liberty 51 boy, regarding him through hostile eyes. ” Will started to scowl but thought better of it.
You must be the new boy. ” Will asked. ” “A ship’s a small place,” Jack answered. ” Will flinched. “I didn’t expect Mr. Mattison to tell everyone,” he said stiffly. “Oh, Mr. Mattison wouldn’t say a word. It’s Blue who’s the talker. A regular town crier. ” Jack talked easily. He had a friendly, open face, and Will began to relax. The younger boy looked at the basket next to him. ” “Aye. We pick apart this old rope and use it to fill cracks in the wood. ” “That don’t look too hard,” Will said. “It’s not hard, just boring.