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online sul Posto Bianco l'articolo monografico: "Jan Fabre: Il Cavaliere della Disperazione" http://urlin.it/2ffad

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sul Posto Nero è online il nuovo numero di The Raven: http://urlin.it/2f7b8

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Le Autopsie del Posto Nero: Stefano Di Marino analizza il romanzo L'estate dei giochi spezzati di Antonio Hill: http://t.co/GD3fCTT7

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Ieri sono stati resi noti i vincitori del Premio "Il Posto Nero Excellence 2012", che segnala le migliori opere, professionalità e progetti di genere del 2011, in Italia e all'estero http://urlin.it/2e5bd

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Menton3: Speed Painting

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online sul Posto Nero il nuovo numero di Pillole Nere, dedicato a riti millenari, al Día de Muertos e ai colori di Diego Rivera: leggi l'articolo sul blog: http://urlin.it/2d6bc

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online sul Posto Nero l'attesa 2° parte dello speciale "Viaggio nell'oscuro Oriente" di Massimo Soumare': http://t.co/ebDLhAdd

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sul Posto Nero online la 1° parte dello speciale "Viaggio nell'oscuro Oriente" a cura di Massimo Soumare': http://urlin.it/2be69

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online sul Posto Bianco: Dai Diari di Colombo alla Venere Ottentotta: http://urlin.it/2be1d

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Danilo Arona come non lo avete mai letto: online sul Posto Nero l'intervista Dieci (anzi, stavolta quindici) Coltelli:http://t.co/X9XAspWV

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sul Posto Bianco online il nuovo numero di 5° Movimento con un viaggio nel Requiem di Mozart, un'astronave per l'aldilà: http://urlin.it/2b8ea

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online sul Posto Nero Horror First Novel Show, un viaggio alla scoperta dei dei vincitori dell'ultima edizione del Bram Stoker Awards per il miglior primo romanzo: "The Castle of Los Angeles" di Lisa Morton (con pubblicazione del primo capitolo) e "Black and Orange" di Benjamin K. Ethridge (con pubblicazione del prologo): http://urlin.it/2b834

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Slices of Flesh - Dark Moon Books http://www.darkmoonbooks.com/Slices_of_Flesh.htm

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L'incipit di Doctor Sleep di Stephen King, il sequel di The Shining:

The hotel was closed for the winter when the accident occurred, and only four people were present. Three survived.

The hotel’s offseason caretaker John Torrance was killed during an unsuccessful and heroic effort to dump the boiler’s steam pressure, which had mounted to a disastrously high level due to an inoperative relief valve. Two of the survivors were the caretaker’s wife and young son. The third was the Overlook’s chef, Richard Hallorann, who had left his seasonal job in Florida and come to check on the Torrances because of what he called 'a powerful hunch' the family was in trouble.

Both surviving adults had been quite badly injured in the explosion. Only the child was unhurt — physically, at least.

Wendy Torrance and her son received a settlement from the corporation that owned the Overlook. It wasn’t huge, but enough to get them by for the three years she was unable to work because of back injuries. A lawyer she consulted told her that if she were willing to hold out and play tough, she would get more — perhaps a great deal more — because the corporation was anxious to avoid a court case.

But she, like the corporation, wanted only to put that disastrous winter in Colorado behind her. She would convalesce she said, and she did, although her back injuries plagued her until the end of her life. Shattered vertebrae may heal — and broken ribs — but they’d never cease crying out.

Winnifred and Daniel Torrance lived in Maryland for a while, then drifted down to Tampa. Sometimes Dick Hallorann, he of the powerful hunches, came up from Key West to talk and visit with them — to visit with young Danny, especially. They shared a bond.

One early morning in March of 1981, Wendy called Dick and asked if he could come. Danny, she said, had awakened in the night and told her not to go in the bathroom. After that, he refused to talk at all.

He woke up needing to pee. Outside, a strong wind was blowing — it was warm, in Florida it was almost always warm — but he did not like that sound and supposed he never would. It reminded him of the Overlook, where the defective boiler had been the very least of the dangers.

He and his mother lived in a cramped, second-floor tenement apartment. Danny left the little room next to his mother’s and crossed the hall. The wind gusted, and a dying palm tree beside the building clattered its leaves. The sound was skeleton.

They always left the bathroom door open when no one was using it because the lock was broken. Now it was closed — not because his mother was in there, however. Thanks to facial injuries she suffered at the Overlook, she now snored — a soft, 'queep queep' sound — and he could hear it coming from her bedroom.

'Well,' he thought, 'she closed it by accident, that’s all.'

He knew better even then. He was a boy of powerful hunches and intuitions himself, but sometimes you had to know. Sometimes, you had to see. This was something he had found out at the Overlook, in a room on the second floor.

Reaching with an arm that seemed too long, too stretchy, too boneless, he turned the knob and opened the door.

The woman from Room 217 was there, as he had known she would be. She was sitting naked on the toilet with her legs spread and her pallid thighs bulging. Her peeling breasts hung down like deflated balloons. The patch of hair below her stomach was gray. Her eyes were also gray, like steel mirrors.

She saw him, and her decayed lips stretched back in a grin.

'Close your eyes,' Dick Hallorann had told him once upon a time. 'If you see something bad, close your eyes and tell yourself it’s not there, and when you open them again it will be gone.' But it hadn’t worked in Room 217 when he was 5, and it wouldn’t work now, when he was 8. He knew it. He could smell her. She was decaying.

The woman — he knew her name, it was Mrs. Massey — lumbered to her purple feet, holding out her hands to him. The flesh on her arms hung down, almost dripping. She was smiling, the way you do when you see an old friend. Or perhaps, something good to eat.

With an expression that could have been mistaken for calmness, Danny closed the door softly and stepped back. He watched as the knob turned right, left, right again, then still. He was 8 now and capable of at least some rational thought, even in his horror — partly because, in some deep part of his mind, he had been expecting this, although he had always thought it would be Horace Derwent who would eventually show up, or perhaps the bartender, the one his father had called Lloyd. He supposed he should have known it would be Mrs. Massey, though, even before it finally happened.

Because of all the undead things in the Overlook, she had been the worst ..."

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waiting for Dr. Sleep...

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online sul Posto Nero in anteprima la cover del nuovo numero del magazine Maman Brigitte realizzata da Daniele Serra:http://t.co/HHOGztJR

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Allyson Bird: Wine and Rank Poison booktrailer. http://urlin.it/2b301