Author of nine novels, Ania's books have been lauded by the likes of Publisher's Weekly, The New York Daily News, and The New York Times. Some titles have been optioned for film. Michael stared up at his bedroom ceiling, old wood boards warped from various leaks the farmhouse had taken on over the years. He waited for the girl to lose her voice. That screaming bothered him, though he’d never admit it. It gave him nightmares, but he never complained. He only wished Momma would kill them while the sun was shining rather than waiting ’til dark. If it didn’t matter how hard they screamed, Michael didn’t get what the difference would be. Day or night, dead was dead. At least during the day he wasn’t trying to sleep. His name coiled through the farmhouse’s framework and glass with an undeniable sense of urgency. It tainted the upbeat melody that had filled the upstairs hallway. Momma wasn’t one for emoting, but this time she punctuated her call with what sounded like panic. Michael’s chest constricted. His fingers tightened around the stone. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t him, that he had no choice. But all he could manage was: Because I’ve got to. Web: h Born in Ciechanow Poland, Ania has always been drawn to the darker, mysterious, and sometimes morbid sides of life. Her earliest childhood memory is of crawling through a hole in the chain link fence that separated her family home from the large wooded cemetery next door. She’d spend hours among the headstones, breaking up bouquets of silk flowers so that everyone had their equal share.

MICHAEL TWISTED IN his bed, the threadbare blanket he’d used all his life tangled around his legs. A girl was screaming bloody murder outside. See what just happened there???? That’s what I felt like while reading this book. I got myself all geared up for a good slasher story and then WHAM! Totally blindsided. People used that saying all the time, bloody murder, despite never having heard anyone being murdered before. Reb called it an analogy. When Michael asked what that was, Reb said they were things people used when they didn’t know what they were talking about. Nobody in town had ever heard someone scream bloody murder before, at least not really, but they kept on saying it like they had. That baby’s yellin’ its head off, screamin’ bloody murder in the cereal aisle. Reb said that if they wanted to hear a baby scream bloody murder, all they had to do was ask. This book follows the Morrow Family, but in particular Michael Morrow, the second son and the one who doesn't quite fit in. Michael was adopted into the family and has since been well-conditioned in the Morrow ways. The creak of floorboards pulled his attention to the door. The music grew louder as it gently swung inward, and Misty wavered just beyond the threshold. Her hair was a soft tangle of strawberry blond, the exact same hue as Reb’s and Momma’s. It was the same color Wade’s had been too, before it had faded to a muted shadow of its former self. Misty was twenty-one—two years older than Michael—but her meekness lent her a strange sort of youth. Standing there in her pale pink nightgown, her cheeks ruddy with a post-dancing flush, she now looked fifteen or sixteen at best. She raised a single shoulder to her ear and stared at him with doleful eyes.Born in Ciechanow Poland, Ania has always been drawn to the darker, mysterious, and sometimes morbid sides of life. Her earliest childhood memory is of crawling through a hole in the chain link fence that separated her family home from the large wooded cemetery next door. She’d spend hours among the headstones, breaking up bouquets of silk flowers so that everyone had their equal share. Even after this happens though, loyalty to the family remains one of the most important themes in his world. Young brother Michael goes along with the family. Because he really has to provide for the family because times is rough. Them’s the perks of livin’ out in the wilderness, Momma had once said. You scream and scream and ain’t nobody around to hear.” This book, set deep in the heart of Appalachia, is extremely disturbing. In fact, if you aren't disturbed by this, I'm not sure we can be friends.

Just your typical clan. Wade is the dad of the house. He might be a puss. The only time he steps up to the plate is when he teaches his young son to "field dress" some critters. Then he gets to go to a nearby record store with Reb. They meet two girls and Michael starts to question his family values. This group is dedicated to an appreciation of important works of literature, both classic and contemporary... that happen to fall into the category of This group is dedicated to an appreciation of important works of literature, both classic and contemporary... that happen to fall into the category of Dark Fiction.

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On the lawn, strips of silver tape clung to the girl’s ankles just above her bare feet, but her hands were still secured in front of her by the wrists. She was shaking her head, her mouth working on words Michael couldn’t make out. It almost looked like she was trying to sing along with Misty’s music, the upbeat tempo a striking contrast to the horrified expression she wore on her face.