valencia jayson (98 resultados)

Condición: New.

Paperback. Condición: New.

Paperback. Condición: New.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condición: New.

Condición: New.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condición: New.

Condición: New.

Condición: New. In.

Condición: New. In.

Condición: New. In.

Condición: New.

Condición: New.

Condición: New.

Condición: New. In.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Condición: As New. Unread book in perfect condition.

Paperback. Condición: New.

Paperback. Condición: new. Paperback. A boy wakes to his family's hands pinning him to the bed, and to a blade steeped in old prayers. What happens next will mark an entire village.In a rural barrio where Holy Week chants drift through the night like a second atmosphere, Marco grows up believing his parents' devotion is a shield. But when a midnight ritual turns his home into an altar, he is cut open not just by steel but by bloodlines older than his family name. Bound, chanting, and silent, those he trusted become his executioners.Dragged to the quarry where candles burn in hundreds and resin bleeds from the stone, Marco is offered to a creature with three crimson eyes: the Herald of an ancient star that devours light to walk as light. The chains of amulets and scapulars meant to protect him fuse instead into shackles. His wound becomes a seal. And his memories, his only anchor, are stripped one by one as the entity prepares to walk through him.While Captain Lito, Mila, and Father Crispin fight to break the rite, the village begins to change. Families vanish behind bolted doors. Crucifixes disappear from walls. Holy songs sag into off-key dirges. At the church steps, sandals accumulate without owners. Each year, more appear. Each year, more disappear.Told in a chorus of notebooks, patrol reports, and final confessions, this novel traces the slow conversion of a boy into a vessel and a village into silence. The atmosphere is thick with incense, sulfur, and betrayal; the horror is not just ritual but communal, creeping under doors and settling into lungs.Readers will feel the dread of folkloric Catholic rites turned inside out, the intimacy of family warmth twisted into cold ceremony, the pulse of an old cosmology pushing through bamboo floors and candle wax. This is not a story of exorcism but of inheritance, where faith is the blade and kinship is the wound.Step into the quarry, where the altar waits. Once you hear the chant, you'll know why no one answers when you call. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability.

PAP. Condición: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condición: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

Paperback. Condición: new. Paperback. A shortcut south. A promise of a free ride. A road that was never meant to be found.In the summer of the late 1990s, six fraternity brothers pile into a battered van bound for Davao. What begins as a barkada road trip with beer, jokes, cassette tapes, and the usual lies men tell each other turns quietly wrong after a wrong turn off the highway. The road narrows. Fog creeps from the ridge. A sign half-buried in ash reads: Welcome to Malipayon.The villagers smile too easily. Their captain logs every guest's name in a notebook. Rules are posted in chalk beside the plaza bell: No doors open to hymns. No movement after fogfall. Offerings keep the living safe. The men laugh it off at first. But curfew comes with sirens, and the hymns don't stop.Fuel is siphoned. Bridges close. One by one, the barkada realize that the feast they were invited to is not for them-it is them. And the only way to survive the night is to understand the order that governs the barangay: Order Twelve, the law that says the fog must feed.Told with the brutal clarity of reportage and the creeping dread of folklore, Malipayon transforms the familiar Filipino fiesta into something monstrous, tender, and true. Every act of kindness hides a rule. Every prayer buys another hour. Every escape is already marked.From the burned-out karaoke machine to the curfew bell that holds back the fog, the story unfolds with the inevitability of a nightmare you can't wake from, a collision of faith, hunger, and the human need to belong.Set in a decade of jeepney radios, ashfall, and martial leftovers, Malipayon is both survival horror and social allegory: a tale of young men learning too late that some communities are built on obedience, and that not all welcomes are meant to last until morning.Because in Malipayon, every feast ends the same way, with a headcount, a song, and the sound of the bell. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability.

PAP. Condición: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

PAP. Condición: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

Paperback. Condición: new. Paperback. Every four seconds, the dead breathe.At an isolated barangay hall in the Philippine uplands, Sergeant Antonio Dumlao and his squad are sent to perform the simplest, ugliest task in war: recover bodies, log them, move on. But the ravine below the outpost does not keep the dead. Heat films the skin like resin. Blades go soft against flesh. Flies refuse to land. And when a prayer is whispered on a four-count, the corpses answer in time.What begins as procedure (notes, temperatures, range cards) slides into a siege measured by breath. Radios speak with no power. Nails sink themselves deeper into wood. Salt breaks a rhythm for a heartbeat and then fails. The battalion says hold position. Faith says pray. The count says obey.Dumlao fights to keep his men inside the only things that still feel solid: doctrine, language, the logbook's square handwriting. Valencia, young and stubborn, wants the truth on paper. Fadriquela, a medic with shaking hands, will risk anything to miss the beat that has taken root in his chest. Nicasio, who knows the old rites, hears something inside the cadence calling itself mercy. And Corporal Todio, mouthy, loyal, and running out of jokes, decides the only order left to him is how to go.The phenomenon spreads like a song you cannot stop humming. The outpost itself begins to breathe; walls flex, floorboards seal, windows turn to wood. Cadence infects machines, prayers, and men. Every ritual, whether military or holy, becomes a door. To step through, you have to count.When the fog finally swallows the field, the enemy that advances looks unnervingly familiar: formations drilled to Dumlao's voice, uniforms he signed off as KIA, weapons lifted by hands that move on someone else's inhale. Is it contagion, faith, physics, or command itself wearing a new face? The only instruction that comes through clean is the oldest: hold the line.Told in crackling, field-report prose that keeps tightening around the throat, HOLD POSITION fuses supernatural horror and military realism into a terrifying study of obedience. The novel moves like a metronome, shifting from four seconds to six, until breath, prayer, and trigger squeeze are indistinguishable. It is about the orders we believe, the rituals we inherit, and the moment a soldier realizes the thing giving commands might be listening from the other side of the radio.Fans of Jeff VanderMeer's Annihilation, Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, and the dread-driven precision of A24 horror will find a new obsession here. Once the cadence catches you, you will not read; you will march. This item is printed on demand. Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability.

PAP. Condición: New. New Book. Shipped from UK. THIS BOOK IS PRINTED ON DEMAND. Established seller since 2000.

Taschenbuch. Condición: Neu. Neuware - Every four seconds, the dead breathe.At an isolated barangay hall in the Philippine uplands, Sergeant Antonio Dumlao and his squad are sent to perform the simplest, ugliest task in war: recover bodies, log them, move on. But the ravine below the outpost does not keep the dead. Heat films the skin like resin. Blades go soft against flesh. Flies refuse to land. And when a prayer is whispered on a four-count, the corpses answer in time.What begins as procedure (notes, temperatures, range cards) slides into a siege measured by breath. Radios speak with no power. Nails sink themselves deeper into wood. Salt breaks a rhythm for a heartbeat and then fails. The battalion says hold position. Faith says pray. The count says obey.Dumlao fights to keep his men inside the only things that still feel solid: doctrine, language, the logbook's square handwriting. Valencia, young and stubborn, wants the truth on paper. Fadriquela, a medic with shaking hands, will risk anything to miss the beat that has taken root in his chest. Nicasio, who knows the old rites, hears something inside the cadence calling itself mercy. And Corporal Todio, mouthy, loyal, and running out of jokes, decides the only order left to him is how to go.The phenomenon spreads like a song you cannot stop humming. The outpost itself begins to breathe; walls flex, floorboards seal, windows turn to wood. Cadence infects machines, prayers, and men. Every ritual, whether military or holy, becomes a door. To step through, you have to count.When the fog finally swallows the field, the enemy that advances looks unnervingly familiar: formations drilled to Dumlao's voice, uniforms he signed off as KIA, weapons lifted by hands that move on someone else's inhale. Is it contagion, faith, physics, or command itself wearing a new face The only instruction that comes through clean is the oldest: hold the line.Told in crackling, field-report prose that keeps tightening around the throat, HOLD POSITION fuses supernatural horror and military realism into a terrifying study of obedience. The novel moves like a metronome, shifting from four seconds to six, until breath, prayer, and trigger squeeze are indistinguishable. It is about the orders we believe, the rituals we inherit, and the moment a soldier realizes the thing giving commands might be listening from the other side of the radio.Fans of Jeff VanderMeer's Annihilation, Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, and the dread-driven precision of A24 horror will find a new obsession here. Once the cadence catches you, you will not read; you will march.