Don't Read This

Here it is, brother - the same description works for all three formats (Amazon links Kindle, paperback, and hardcover on one detail page, so keeping the copy identical is actually the right move):

Don't look. Whatever you do, don't learn to see it.

An earthquake cracks open a basement in a quiet Icelandic fishing town. By midnight, seven children lie in hospital beds, changed. At 3:17 a.m., in seven separate rooms, they sit up at the same instant and say the same four words:

"She can't see us anymore."

Dr. Mara Ellerin has spent her life reading dead languages. The broken markings in the stone beneath Húsavík are older than any of them - older than writing, older than the island, older than eyes. And they have one property no script on Earth has ever had: they finish themselves when you stop watching.

To end the outbreak, Mara descends into the mountain with her estranged sister, a monk from an order that guards the world by forgetting, and a team that will be graded, one by one, by something that cannot lie and cannot eat one. Because the thing at the bottom of the spiral doesn't hate. It has never hated.

It only wants to be seen. And it has just heard the dinner bell.

A cosmic horror novel about the price of witness - for readers of Bird Box, Annihilation, and House of Leaves. Some patterns should stay broken.

You're not reading this book. This book is reading you.