Accidental Moon: Difference between revisions
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According to [[Justin Richards (The Secret Lives of Monsters)|Justin Richards]], the novel was "not kindly reviewed". ([[PROSE]]: ''[[The Secret Lives of Monsters (novel)|The Secret Lives of Monsters]]'') | According to [[Justin Richards (The Secret Lives of Monsters)|Justin Richards]], the novel was "not kindly reviewed". ([[PROSE]]: ''[[The Secret Lives of Monsters (novel)|The Secret Lives of Monsters]]'') | ||
{{quote|If only I could speak. My voice seemed cleft to the back of my throat. A situation that only worsened as the behemoth reached up and unfastened his helmet. With a hiss that might have been that balloon in my chest rupturing, the clasps released. Despite what I had already seen, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw beneath the helmet. The wrinkled skin, like old cork. The eyes set deep in the face - if you could even call it such. Ears so small they could have been the afterthought of sme cosmic designer of monstrosity. And horns!|An excerpt from Accidental Moon}} | {{quote|If only I could speak. My voice seemed cleft to the back of my throat. A situation that only worsened as [[Judoon|the behemoth]] reached up and unfastened [[Ka-Pa-Lu-Yes|his]] helmet. With a hiss that might have been that balloon in my chest rupturing, the clasps released. Despite what I had already seen, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw beneath the helmet. The wrinkled skin, like old cork. The eyes set deep in the face - if you could even call it such. Ears so small they could have been the afterthought of sme cosmic designer of monstrosity. And horns!|An excerpt from Accidental Moon}} | ||
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Revision as of 18:00, 23 June 2020
Accidental Moon was a novel written by Oliver Morgenstern based on the events at Royal Hope Hospital and his experience with the Judoon.
According to Justin Richards, the novel was "not kindly reviewed". (PROSE: The Secret Lives of Monsters)
If only I could speak. My voice seemed cleft to the back of my throat. A situation that only worsened as the behemoth reached up and unfastened his helmet. With a hiss that might have been that balloon in my chest rupturing, the clasps released. Despite what I had already seen, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw beneath the helmet. The wrinkled skin, like old cork. The eyes set deep in the face - if you could even call it such. Ears so small they could have been the afterthought of sme cosmic designer of monstrosity. And horns!
