ĭisclosure: If you click a link in this post and make a purchase, I may earn a small commission. But why has that person been chosen, by whom and for what purpose? The answers lie waiting in the long attic, at the top of the stairs. Because every nine years, on the last Saturday of October, a ‘guest’ is summoned to Slade House. This unnerving, taut and intricately woven tale by one of our most original and bewitching writers begins in 1979 and comes to its turbulent conclusion around Hallowe’en, 2015. Enter the sunlit garden of an old house that doesn’t quite make sense too grand for the shabby neighbourhood, too large for the space it occupies.Ī stranger greets you and invites you inside. No handle, no keyhole, but at your touch it swings open. Find the small black iron door set into the right-hand wall. Turn down Slade Alley – narrow, dank and easy to miss, even when you’re looking for it. Perhaps I was expecting too much from a title that started life as a short story published on Twitter.
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