“Bentley Little keeps the high-tension jolts coming.”
—Stephen King
“On a par with such greats as Stephen King, Clive Barker, and Peter Straub.”
—Midwest Book Review
Praise for the Novels
of Bentley Little
The Academy
“A tightly allegorical piece of horror.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Vanishing
“A plethora of gore and perversion.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Burning
“Stephen King–size epic horror.”
—Publishers Weekly
Dispatch
“Little has the unparalleled ability to evoke surreal, satiric terror … should not be missed.”
—Horror Reader
The Resort
“An explicitly repulsive yet surrealistically sad tale of everyday horror.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Policy
“A chilling tale.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Return
“A master of horror on par with Koontz and King … so powerful that readers will keep the lights on day and night.”
—Midwest Book Review
“If there’s a better horror novelist working today, I don’t know who it is.”
—Los Angeles Times
The Collection
“A must-have for the author’s fans.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Little’s often macabre, always sharp tales are snippets of everyday life given a creepy twist.”
—Booklist
The Association
“Haunting … terrifying … graphic and fantastic … will stick with readers for a long time. Just enough sex, violence, and Big Brother rhetoric to make this an incredibly credible tale.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Walking
“Wonderful, fast-paced, rock-’em, jolt-’em, shock-’em contemporary terror fiction with believable characters and an unusually clever plot. Highly entertaining.”
—Dean Koontz
“Bentley Little’s The Walking is the horror event of the year. If you like spooky stories, you must read this book.”
—Stephen King
“The Walking is a waking nightmare. A spellbinding tale of witchcraft and vengeance. Scary and intense.”
—Michael Prescott, author of In Dark Places
“Flowing seamlessly between time and place, the Bram Stoker Award–winning author’s ability to transfix his audience … is superb … terrifying. [The Walking] has the potential to be a major sleeper.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Little possesses the uncanny ability to take everyday situations and turn them into nightmares.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Ignored
“This is Bentley Little’s best book yet. Frightening, thought provoking, and impossible to put down.”
—Stephen King
“A singular achievement by a writer who makes the leap from the ranks of the merely talented to true distinction with this book. This one may become a classic.”
—DarkEcho
“Little is so wonderful that he can make the act of ordering a Coke at McDonald’s take on a sinister dimension. This philosophical soul searcher is provocative.”
—Fangoria
The Revelation
Winner of the Bram Stoker Award
“I guarantee, once you start reading this book, you’ll be up until dawn with your eyes glued to the pages. A nail-biting, throat squeezing, nonstop plunge into darkness and evil.”
—Rick Hautala
The Store
“Frightening.”
—Los Angeles Times
The Mailman
“A thinking person’s horror novel. The Mailman delivers.”
—Los Angeles Times
University
“By the time I finished, my nerves were pretty well fried, and I have a pretty high shock level. University is unlike anything else in popular fiction.”
—Stephen King
ALSO BY BENTLEY LITTLE
The Disappearance
His Father’s Son
The Academy
The Vanishing
The Burning
Dispatch
The Resort
The Policy
The Return
The Collection
The Association
The Walking
The Town
The House
The Store
The Ignored
The Revelation
University
Dominion
The Mailman
Death Instinct
THE
HAUNTED
Bentley Little
A SIGNET BOOK
Copyright © Bentley Little, 2012
All rights reserved
THE
HAUNTED
One
“They’re here again, Dad.”
Julian came out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, and walked across the living room to where his son, James, was holding on to the edge of the curtains, peeking through the crack and out the front window. Julian reached for the cord to pull open the drapes.
“What are you doing?” James cried, panicked. He flattened against the wall so as not to be seen.
Ignoring him, Julian opened the drapes. Sure enough, three skateboarders were on their driveway, one of them flipping his board into the air and then landing on it, the other two preparing to race down the sloping concrete to the street. It was the second time in two days that this had happened, and though theirs was the only driveway on the street not blocked by permanently parked cars or pickups (their vehicles went in the garage), that didn’t give neighborhood punks the right to use it as their own personal skate park. Angry, he started toward the front door.
“Don’t go outside, Dad. Please!”