By Adam Nevill

Some doorways are higher left closed—a spine-chilling horror novel from a brand new talent

In Barrington apartment, an upmarket block in London, there's an empty residence. nobody is going in and no one comes out, and it's been that method for 50 years, until the evening a watchman hears a disturbance after middle of the night and is attracted to examine. What he reviews is sufficient to switch his existence forever. Soon after, a young American girl, Apryl, arrives at Barrington residence. She's been left an condominium by means of her mysterious nice Aunt Lillian who died in unusual conditions. Rumors declare Lillian used to be mad, yet her diary indicates she was once implicated in a bad and inexplicable occasion many years in the past. decided to profit anything of this eccentric lady, Apryl starts off to resolve the hidden tale of Barrington condominium. She discovers reworking, evil strength nonetheless inhabits the construction, and that the entrance to condominium sixteen is a gateway to anything altogether extra terrifying.

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Sample text

I think it's rude. But then," she said, smiling like a mischievous child, "I've never been ashamed of my own behavior, only the behavior of others. I'm ashamed of yours. Here I've watched you for fifteen minutes, and you barely took your eyes off the flowers. How rude do you think that is? V. " "I'm a gardener. " "Lovely," she said wistfully, "imagine a life of caring for beautiful things. Imagine when you're very old, and look back on it. " Although she seemed forthright, the way he knew city people were, there was something fitful in the way she spoke, almost hesitant somewhere in the flow of words, as if all this snappy talk was a cover for extreme shyness.

The old man who worked the pharmacy stood up on his platform behind the white counter, measuring his nostrums and philters. Jim walked the aisles, glancing briefly at the magazine covers and the greeting card displays. Finally, he turned the last aisle and saw the large bottles of aspirin. The fluorescent light above his head flickered in a dark way, as if it were just about to go out. As Jim reached for the aspirin bottle, he watched as his hand seemed to go through water and touch--not a bottle of aspirin, but a green tile on a bathroom wall.

He kissed her, but the way he would kiss his sister, because he didn't really want to lead her on. The mist from the laundry enveloped the outline of her face, causing her skin to shine a yellow-white like candles in luminaria, revealing years that he had not anticipated--he had thought she might be a girl in her early twenties, but in this steam she appeared older, ashes shining under her skin. " He didn't answer. He pulled away from her, and felt the edges of thick-lipped petals. She said, "We keep the exotics here.

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