The Drowning House: A Novel

By Elizabeth Black

A gripping suspense tale a few girl who returns to Galveston, Texas after a private tragedy and is irresistibly drawn into the insular global she’s struggled to leave.

Photographer Clare Porterfield's once-happy marriage is coming aside, unraveling less than the tension of a relatives tragedy. whilst she gets a call for participation to direct an exhibition in her homeland of Galveston, Texas, she jumps on the likelihood to flee her grief and reconnect with the island she hasn't visible for ten years. There Clare could have the time and house to look for solutions approximately her afflicted prior and her family's complex dating with the rich and influential Carraday family. 

Soon she reveals herself drawn right into a century-old secret related to Stella Carraday. neighborhood legend has it that Stella drowned in her family's apartment through the nice storm of 1900, hanged by means of her lengthy hair from the drawing room chandelier. might Stella were stored? what's the precise nature of Clare's family's involvement? The questions develop just like the wildflower vines that climb up the partitions and fences of the island. And the nearer Clare will get to the solutions, the darker and extra anxious the reality turns into.

Steeped within the wealthy neighborhood background of Galveston, The Drowning House portrays households, inextricably associated by means of tragedy and time.

"The Drowning House marks the emergence of a magnificent new literary voice. Elizabeth Black's suspenseful inquiry into darkish kinfolk secrets and techniques is enriched by means of a striking succession of pictures, frequently minutely saw, that convey characters, surroundings, and tale sharply into focus." —John Berendt, writer of Midnight within the backyard of fine and Evil

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You’re no longer consuming. ” It was once real, Patrick’s hamburger sat untouched in its wrapper. He observed the new puppy with a chunk out of it in my lap. “But she is. That woman likes weenies. ” He squinted and licked his lips. I flushed and regarded down. For a second not anyone moved. Then one other boy acknowledged, “Shut up, Tony,” and elbowed him out of how. “Look at her, she’s a child. ” the stress eased. the lady with the attention shadow smiled and blew cigarette smoke out of her mouth and inhaled it via her nostril. She had around, heavy breasts and rounder hips and a bit waist marked by means of a glittery snakeskin belt. I stared at my bony knees, humiliated. “What do you need to do? ” the second one boy requested. His identify used to be Lowell. Patrick shrugged. He may behave worse than any of them, and that received him admire. yet there could by no means be any actual penalty for him, now not at the Island. Like his father, Patrick lived above outcomes, yet simply because he was once much less drawing close, it gave the impression of a bonus he selected to not percentage. My father stated Patrick used to be spoiled. I knew there have been others who idea that too. somebody pointed out the seashore. “No, it’s too wet,” a lady stated. “That’s why they name it the seashore, genius. All that water. ” “Asshole. I intended the sand. ” “No such factor as too wet,” Tony acknowledged. “Right, buddy? ” He was once heavier than Patrick, broader within the shoulders. “Try to sit back, Antonio,” Patrick stated. The breeze had arise and the strings of lighting fixtures overhead swayed and forged splashes of colour at the staring at faces. Tony raised either hands and stepped again. Over the audio system a rustic singer complained approximately his existence at the street. I knew they weren’t listening. nonetheless, the gang started to get stressed. the ladies dropped their cigarettes, pulled out mirrors and lipstick and gum. the lads swung their fingers in halfhearted punches. Then abruptly every body status round obtained into one vehicle or one other. boys climbed into the small backseat of the dune buggy, one other perched above them. We left the Dairy Freeze and drove east down Broadway. The neon signal of the hot Walgreens burst on us like a flare, yet many of the structures on each side of the road, the outdated homes, the windowed storefronts, have been invisible in the dead of night. “Hang on,” Patrick stated, and we swung round a nook. I knew where. Patrick and that i had visited it sooner than. Whispering and shoving, we went round to the alley, the place one of many iron rails used to be long past. anyone had a flashlight. Its beam glanced off the dun-colored brick partitions and the foliage that overran the boarded-up home windows. “Shut that factor off until eventually we get inside,” stated Patrick. He used to be already transferring a bit of plywood that lined a window within the raised basement. It was once now not nailed, yet propped artfully opposed to the wall of the home, and it got here away simply. surroundings it apart, Patrick climbed via and reached again for me. We have been within the laundry room. there has been a row of deep, zinc-lined tubs opposed to the wall, and close to them a mangle with wood rollers and a white teeth basin beneath. a few ironing forums stood at careless angles, as if whoever have been utilizing them had left rapidly, desiring to go back.

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