The Watchers Am Shine Quotes

Suppressing a smile isn’t easy. The happiness always creeps out somehow. But sadness can be stashed under the skin like a dark secret.

Every grudge, if it is to stand the test of time, relies on the certainty of a selective memory.

But hope isn’t founded on certainties. It’s the belief that the bad ending might not happen.

memories become hauntings over time,

Such fears, she whispered to herself, were irrational. But one of the many lessons that the forest had taught her was that her fears don’t care.

Was surviving enough without knowing what was trying to kill you? Maybe that’s just life.

Even when wearing the mask of man, still they are monsters to the eye.

Was this how it must feel to die and return as a ghost? To see how the world moved on without you, only to find that it never even realised you were gone.

Fate had dealt Mina two options – passing out drunk or crying into her pillow – and she’d never liked the taste of tears.

Suppressing a smile isn’t easy. The happiness always creeps out somehow. But sadness can be stashed under the skin like a dark secret. It doesn’t need tears to make its presence felt,

Wherever their adventure was taking them, it was a dead place that even the animals knew to avoid.

You never pick up all the pieces when you shatter like that.

John had never broken a promise to his wife before. And at that moment in time, he thought he never would.

Without the warmth of the sun or the sound of birdsong it never seemed like morning, just a lighter shade of night.

He’d tripped back into nothing, where the darkness absorbed his body in an instant, doomed to die when again he touched solid ground.

No memories worth keeping were made there, and the future’s horizon was lost to the trees.

Mina despised the coop’s mirrored glass, not because of what it hid, but for what it revealed.

like dim fractures in the ceiling of their prison. She could feel the darkness growing around them, creeping out from the lowest leaf and spreading under boughs like black fungus.

hope isn't founded on certainties

John had journeyed on foot as far as he could, always returning to the coop before lights on, to Ciara’s side.

Ciara was the big sister he never had; kind and sweet-tempered.

Suppressing a smile isn’t easy. The happiness always creeps out somehow. But sadness can be stashed under the skin like a dark secret. It doesn’t need tears to make its presence felt

Could they not dim it a little? Did it have to be so painfully bright, and so loud? It was like a hive of bees picking through the honeycomb of her brain. She couldn’t think straight.

Her car was met on all sides by an impenetrable blackness, as though she had sunk to the ocean’s deepest trench, where old things live without time or light, in secrecy and in darkness.

The horrifying scenario that she’d dreaded above all others – that canvas hanging forever in the back room of her mind, painted with a smeared palette of paranoia and hard fact – was now her reality.

She’d never known anyone like them – so naturally warm and charitable that they made her rethink her take on the human race as a whole. Good people did exist, and the best of them never even realised how good they were.

It was a ritual of hers to search the area of the woods where she believed John had been taken. Truth was that there was no knowing where the man had died. His cries had come from everywhere.

with the photograph of his wife held in both hands.

She could feel the darkness growing around them, creeping out from the lowest leaf and spreading under boughs like black fungus.

Time did more than kill. It had the power to erase people out of existence entirely. The happiness, the sorrow – the highs and lows of a life seen through to its end – all of it had been reduced to this: a pile of dust and bone heaped into the darkest corner.

And when the sun shone, the shore resembled some magical seam holding the last fraying threads of her sanity together.

There was no lullaby to the black, lightless waters that roiled down that side of the beach. They crashed and they screamed, and they foamed like rabid beasts slashing at the stone, carving out those hidden crannies where the seabirds slept. Their impression was one of gauntness and of death, of sickly hollows and tired, misshapen parts.

If you could only see how many of them are out there, behind the glass, watching us,’ Madeline replied. ‘How could I ever be lonely here?