Winter Moon. By: Dean R. Koontz

and morning. The wind was dying down as well.

“Are you going to be all right?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Never the same,” Toby said solemnly. “Never the same . . . but all

right.”

That is, Jack thought, the way of life. The horror changes us, because

we can never forget. Cursed with memory. It starts when we’re old

enough to know what death is and realize that sooner or later we’ll

lose everyone we love. We’re never the same. But somehow we’re all

right. We go on.

o

Eleven days before Christmas, they topped the Hollywood Hills and drove

down into Los Angeles. The day was sunny, the air unusually clear, and

the palm trees majestic.

In the back of the Explorer, Falstaff moved from window to window,

inspecting the city. He made small, snuffling sounds as if he approved

of the place.

Heather was eager to see Gina Tendero, Alma Bryson, and so many other

friends, old neighbors. She felt that she was coming home after years

in another country, and her heart swelled.

Home was not a perfect place. But it was the only home they had, and

they could hope to make it better.

That night, a full winter moon sailed the sky, and the ocean was

spangled with silver.

the end.

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