On the banks of the Mississippi, the tiny town of Duncan, Iowa seems so very quiet. Historical Duncan, an oddball blend of shabby industrial plants and quirky, charming historical districts. But Duncan will never be the same. For in the darkness, the Tik-Tik bird sings.
Tik-tik, Tik-tik, tik, tik, tik . . .
The sweet birdsong of Hell.
It begins in the silence of the dawn, above the river, where Police Sergeant Erin Vanderjagt ends her early morning run. Tik-Tik. Tik-Tik. The flap of leathery wings, a monstrous shadow. And then, silence. Silence filled with terror. With pain. And with the cold assurance that nothing will ever be the same – in the worst, most horrific ways imaginable.
A house explodes, taking a neighborhood with it. Bodies begin to fall. And the only person who may hold all the answers is badly burned, locked in a hospital isolation ward – and apparently doesn’t even speak an understandable language. Aswan! Mennon! Gal! Tick tick! Tick tick!
When the Tik-Tik Sings is one of the more creative horror stories I have read. The story is chilling in its very inanity at points – simple sounds, shadows in the night. The beat of wings and the simple Tik-tik from the dark.
A police sergeant. A fireman. A simple man with the mentality of a seven-year-old and a gentle heart. And, an undying monster. Will it end? Or can it?
A story for campfires and dark nights, When the Tik-Tik Sings is the perfect shivery, bump in the night tale.
This is the first Doug Lamoreaux book I have read, and as much as I loved the story, I admit to being disturbed at how a book by an author nominated for the Rondo, Lord Ruthven, and Pushcart prizes, as well as the first-ever recipient of the Horror Society’s Igor Award for fiction, could feel comfortable publishing a book with the number of editorial errors I found doing a simple read, not even looking for them. It was disappointing.