Let the Old Dreams Die
John Ajvide Lindqvist
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A classic short story collection from the writer called Sweden's Stephen King that continues the breathtaking story begun in the internationally acclaimed classic Let the Right One In
Because of the two superb films made of John Ajvide Lindqvist's vampire masterpiece Let the Right One In, millions of people around the world know the story of Oskar and Eli and of their final escape from Blackeberg at the end of the novel. Now at last, in "Let the Old Dreams Die," the title story in this absolutely stunning collection, we get a glimpse of what happened next to the pair. Fans of Let the Right One In will have to read the story, which is destined to generate much word of mouth both among fans and online.
"Let the Old Dreams Die" is not the only stunner in this collection. In "Final Processing," Lindqvist also reveals the next chapter in the lives of the characters he created in Handling the Undead. "Equinox" is a story of a woman who takes care of her neighbor's house while they are away and readers will never forget what she finds in the house. Every story meets the very high standard of excellence and fright factor that Lindqvist fans have come to expect. Totally transcending genre writing, these are world class stories from possibly the most impressive horror writer writing today.
felt ill at ease; there was a buzzing sound in his head, as if from a number of voices in a room far away. After a couple of turns they drove into an illuminated courtyard. Spotlights had been erected in a number of spots along the sides of the buildings. All of them were directed toward the center, where there was a big building very unlike the buildings that surrounded it. It looked mostly like an oversized cottage and had perhaps once been intended to serve as a laundry and community space.
meant they only had to take the big bus from its garage in Haninge for a longer drive about once a month. There was talk about selling it. In the van were the aforementioned instruments and mikes as well as Roland and Uffe, the bass player. Uffe was sitting in the backseat as usual, sucking on his snuff pouch and leafing through the sporting pages in the newspaper while Roland sat up front with Kalle. To call it friendship would be too strong, but Roland and Kalle had found a comfortable level
smoke floated out of the room in ribbons visible against the exterior house light. It had started to grow dark. The girls would be home from school soon. Something was moving under the bed. Moving or … gliding. Vera backed away to the door, opened it behind her and stepped out, closing it quickly, then walked to the kitchen. There was a squeaky noise in her head as she unhooked the Japanese kitchen knife from the magnetic strip. With her free hand she pressed against her cheek to get her teeth
saw a possible connection and wished to God that she was wrong. As she turned into their driveway, her head was ringing after an hour with the rumble of the Toyota 140. It grew very quiet after she turned off the engine and got out. The outside light shone in a welcoming way and everything looked normal. She walked toward the house, thought that if everything was okay she would … withdraw somehow. Perhaps go sit in the garage. What has become of us? It was still quiet as she climbed up onto
that they would never find a cleaning lady as satisfied with her work as me. Could they be in touch if the position ever opened up? They never called. It is filled by an agency now. Enough about this. I borrowed a couple of books by Joyce Carol Oates. One of those writers you hear about and have long thought about reading but never do. Probably wouldn’t get to this time either, I thought, with my Kerstin Ekman in the bag. Oh, that’s right. Something happened there. When I came to the counter