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Showing Rating details. Sort order. Sep 01, Debra rated it really liked it. This was really creepy. I've never liked clowns, creepy clowns. I like horror books with new ideas. Got tired of vampires, werewolves, and zombies about 15 years ago so I appreciate something different. Aug 05, Mark Heath rated it it was amazing Shelves: horror. May 19, Thomas Padley rated it liked it Shelves: kindle-books.
Instead we have our journalist and main protagonist Clive White who is shipped off to do a seemingly boring and laborious assignment of covering the annual carnival in the little town of Marlowe, of course on arrival, it is quite obvious Marlowe isn't the quite little town it appears to be, it is merely a cover for something more sinister as our journalist soon discovers as he delves deeper into the town's history, and the death count is high, and the people are even stranger.
So there we have it, usually when I'm reading I often find myself comparing it to or imagining a certain film or sometimes another book and while none really sprang to mine it did remind me of a certain Supernatural episode, in where the boys are used as a sacrifice for a monster than needs feeding once a year or whatever it is, and that's more or less what this book is, a presence or a force that every year requires a young innocent girl to be killed in order to keep peace and destroy everyone inside this little place, it was fine, a little predictable and certainly any smart person knew how it was going to wrap up, but it was done nicely, a nice steady pace to read at, not really hard to read but a little slow in places where you can see the author is trying to cram some back-story in there or develop Clive or his sidekick honestly forgot her name not going to lie.
Clown sightings: the day the craze began
Although the characters in this book were a little cardboard cut out for me, there was nothing to them that made them stand out hence the forgetting of the woman's name who spends over half the book with Clive nobody really shone out and gave it that extra something, Clive was fine, bless him, trying his best to take charge and show authority, I feel Parker did his best at trying to make emotions believable as possible and the actions they took to be reasonable and not be OTT, but like I say with a predictable plot its hard to get excited, or motivated, and a lot of the time I was reading through necessity rather than being on the edge of my seat not knowing what was going to happen.
You know what for 77p and if you haven't anything planned it could be a quick read regardless of enjoyment and I didn't feel cheated or want my money back hence the 3 stars and not There are no discussion topics on this book yet. About Edward Parker. Edward Parker. Edward Parker was born and raised in Worcestershire, England. He has been writing fiction pretty much since he was physically able to write, and has been writing horror fiction for about the same length of time.
Regarding horror fiction, Parker says: "My views on writing horror? Graphic or quiet?
Why is the 'killer clown' craze sweeping across Britain?
Cosmic or personal? He reeked of smoke and I could tell that he was older because the whites of his eyes were yellowed and his teeth were crooked, stained with black globules of cigarette tar stuck in between them. If they are running late it's because they found something. I looked legit in comparison to this South-side dumb ass was relieved at the thought that I wouldn't have to deal with him for long When I tossed the butt of my cigar to the ground, I smashed it with my booted foot and yanked on my black leather gloves after shaking my head.
Like him, my outfit was white, but there were black straps running up the sides and black balls of fur attached the front where the suit clasped together with skeletal hands. The fabric around the collar was also black. Leather cuffs at the sleeves. The guy was pacing around, muttering something to himself in a slur of slang that I didn't quite understand.
Next Workshops and LAbs
A wannabe rapper. Unlike him, I'd opted for a clown mask that had grotesque, bloody-painted teeth and the appearance of hollow eyes. The wig I'd chosen was a grimy gray fluff of wrinkly hair attached to either side of a bald cap.
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You sure 'bout this? He seemed uneasy, clasping his machete a bit more tightly in his hand as he surveyed the dark woods around the both of us. The only light we had emanated from a red gas lantern that hissed at our backs. He seemed tense but I didn't answer. My hand simply fell to the katana tied to the right hip when I noticed how still things had become.
For me, this was my home, but Radz This shitz gettin' too real.
He didn't seem to notice that I hadn't been replying. Radz scoffed and shook his head, tossing his machete to the ground.
The great clown panic of ‘a volatile mix of fear and contagion’ | Culture | The Guardian
He turned and said, "Man, fuck this, I'm out. This caused his upper lip to lift up at an angle to reveal his crooked teeth and his eyes rounded. I'd grabbed the katana's handle and unsheathed the blade, holding it aloft after the slow, sublime hiss it made against the sheath. Put that shit away. I stood there in total silence, breathing lightly enough so that he would not be able to clearly see my shoulders rise and fall.