Frederic Remington The Cowboy

Frederic Remington The CowboyThomas Kinkade veniceThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MEMORIES
powerful books managed to jerk out of their shelves and swung, flapping madly, from the end of their chains. A huge grimoire plunged from its eyrie on the topmost shelf - tearing itself free of its chain in the process - and flopped . There's the sound of the little meaningful chuckle in the locked dark room, the sight of half a caterpillar in your forkful of salad, the curious smell from the lodger's bedroom, the taste of slug in the cauliflower cheese. Touch doesn't normally get a look-in.
But something happened to the floor under Esk's hands. She looked downaway like a frightened chicken, scattering its pages behind it. A magical wind blew away Esk's headscarf and her hair streamed out behind her. She saw Simon trying to steady himself against a bookshelf as books exploded around him. The air was thick and tasted of tin. It buzzed. "They're trying to get in!" she screamed. Simon's tortured face turned to her. A fear-crazed incunable hit him heavily in the small of the back and knocked him to the heaving floor before it bounced high over the shelves. Esk ducked as a flock of thesauri wheeled past, towing their shelf behind them, and scuttled on hands and knees towards him. "That's what's making the books so frightened!" she shrieked in his ear. "Can't you see them up there?" Simon mutely shook his head. A book burst its bindings over them, showering them in pages. Horror can steal into the mind via all the senses