FireFly Rain by Richard Dansky - A+ Writing and Storyline

Thanks to Gallery Book, Simon and Schuster I received a copy of Firefly Rain by Richard Dansky to read and review. 

In A Nutshell: This is a much needed change from the books I have been reading, while they are good, entertaining, well written this one was all that and called me from wherever I had laid it. I NEEDED to read it. The story starts out rather normal and slowly builds into a psycological thriller that had me unsure how it would end.

What I Can Tell You: This is Richard Dansky's first original novel and I am anxiously awaiting his next piece of work. The storyline is different, the writing spectacular and reminded me of Stephen King. Before children I was a big Stephen King fan and read and owned every book. After my kids, I gave up books that were considered horror. Firefly made me want to revisit the horror section of the book store. The need to finish the book and find out who was doing what and why the Fireflies stayed off the property was driving me mad. I sat at the kitchen table until I finished the last 60 pages with my cup of coffee growing cold.  I highly recommend this book if you are a fan of the mystery, terror, horror genre, or if you really want to read a fantastic book.

Except from Chapter 1:
The driveway came up on me suddenly, and I had to jam on the brakes to avoid overshooting the turn. Only the mailbox on the side of the road had let me know where the driveway was, and even then I’d nearly missed it. A dark house set well back from a dark road on a dark night is easy to miss, I told myself, and then I realized how truly dark it was. Even with the sky mostly clear and a half-moon shining down, the house I called mine was just plain wrapped in shadow. It had the look of a place that had gotten used to being ignored and liked it that way.

And not only the house was dark; so was the land it stood on. From where I stood, I could just see the road and the neighbor’s property beyond it. There, in the distance, I could see little specks of light dancing in the air. A turn to the east, where the old Tolliver farm was, and I could see the same thing. Mr. Tolliver had been a mean son of a bitch and put up wire along the top of the fence at the property line, and near as I could tell, there were even fireflies crawling their way along that. And I was sure without looking that if I turned back west, toward town, I’d see them there, too.

But on my land, nothing. I could hear the frogs out there in the dark, but sound wasn’t the issue. Light was, and I couldn’t see any clear over to the boundary. No fireflies crossed the line that separated my land from anyone else’s.

I stayed out on the porch for an hour, watching, but none of them ever did.