Ignatius Perrish, also known as Ig, is accused of murdering his long time girlfriend Merrin Williams by basically everyone in town. One day, after all the months of fighting for his innocence and being let go as a suspect for the lack of evidence, Ig wakes up with knobby little horns on his head. These horns aren’t a body modification by his own doing but instead the work of a higher (or lower) power. One by one, each person who sees the horns begin to reveal things about themselves. Whether it be a deep dark secret or something they just keep to themselves, he knows even when he doesn’t want to. Soon this “power” leads him to learn who the killer of his girlfriend was – his own best friend. In an act of revenge, and grief, Ig stops looking at the horns as a curse but instead a blessing.
It was 2013 when I gave birth to my daughter. Motherhood, especially when unexpected, comes at you so fast that it catches you up in the rapture. There was so much about that time that was a blur because I didn’t spend a moment of it outside my head, outside of the moment of being a mom. It was a shock to no one that I was hit with post partum depression, but it was a complete shock to me that within nine months, and the one month of the baby being outside of me, I gained 75 pounds.
A dew weeks ago I got a new phone. In the midst of transferring data and reinstalling apps, I looked at the Goodreads download screen with my thumb hovering over ‘Install’ for quite a while. Every reader I know has a Goodreads account. Honestly, for the organized types, it’s a true blessing. Imagine a virtual existence of your bookshelf with each shelf as a category. There’s the ones you read, the ones you want to, and the ones you’re currently reading. This doesn’t even include the ones you can create for whatever purpose. It’s extremely handy and useful, except sometimes it’s pretty overwhelming for me.
Every age has given me a deep sense of grief in some ways. I remember turning 13 and thinking that there was some sort of defined sense of maturity that I had to embody. It was the faux sophistication that ruined my teenage years. Of course, don’t all teenagers believe they know it all? Then there was when I turned 18. Suddenly, I wanted to be more open and vulgar, honest, and openly sexual without a sense of regret. Again, still being a teenager I felt at though this was what I was supposed to do, but still thought it made me special because I was the only one who felt strong enough to do so. Without too much digression, my sense of open honesty and shameless sexual liberation made me remarkable to certain people, and others for other reason. Then I was 20, feeling less accomplished than my other friends because I began college late and still don’t know my “meaning”. It was stupid to feel this way, looking back on it. Sadly, I’m 25 now. Twenty-five years old and feeling was less accomplished than 13, 18, 20, and even 24 year old me. Though .. that’s not all true.
Emily Klein doesn’t know she has killed her husband until the day of his funeral. At first, signs point to a tragic accident. Yet, as Emily pieces together the events before his death – events which led to her own memory loss – she begins to suspect that her husband’s death may have been the result of more than a terrible twist of fate… But the accident is only the beginning. Because while Emily’s physical scars will heal, the trauma of the accident has awakened old ghosts. She hears strange sounds, catches things that can’t possibly be there in the corner of her eye. Before long, everywhere she looks, she seems to see her husband. And suddenly, Emily finds herself asking the most dangerous question of all: Can she really trust herself?