The singing wasn't the hopscotch-jumprope-happy kind. This was the kind of singing that, if you tracked it to its source, you might find a little girl in a moldy old burial dress, her skin pitted & green, with lots of coffin splinters & dirt between her teeth......like a mermaid luring idiot sailors...Winny wasn't a sailor, & he wasn't old enough to get all sexed up by some hot siren.
-Dean Koontz
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