can drawing blood make you tired

Zombieslayer/Alienhunter's 31 Days of Hallo-reads #4.

In June of 1972, cult-worshipped comic book author and artist, creator of the one and only Birdland, Bobby McGee (probably not that one) butchered his wife and three-year-old son with a hammer and then proceeded to hang himself in a farmhouse on Violin Road in Missing Mile, North Carolina.
His five-year-old boy, Trevor, was not harmed.

After being a ward of the state for thirteen years, Trevor McGee (selling his own artwork under the name of Tre

Zombieslayer/Alienhunter's 31 Days of Hallo-reads #4.

After being a ward of the state for thirteen years, Trevor McGee (selling his own artwork under the name of Trevor Black) ran. Far. And fast. Away from Missing Mile, away from Violin Road, away from the suffocating presence of his mother, father and little brother.
Seven years of such transient behavior have gotten the poor boy exactly nothing.
With nowhere else to turn to, wanting answers and willing to face the music to get them, Trevor returns.

The eccentric townspeople of Missing Mile readily accept Trevor, and on his second day there, who should he stumble into, but a soul as lost as himself?

Zach Bosch, six years younger than Trevor but possibly a lifetime more experienced, is on the run. His screwing around in cyberspace has landed him in hot, federal water and 'They', the G-men, are after him. He blows New Orleans in a flash and leaves no trace.
Or so he thinks.
In an attempt to tell his friends in the Big Easy he's alright, Zach accidentally gives away his location. He hopes huddling down in Missing Mile will shake 'Them' off his trail, but he can't hide forever.

The house on Violin Road has taken three victims, but it wants more blood.
And so it shall be drawn.

He needn't have worried about accidentally coming about the Devil's Tramping Ground, he realized.
The Devil's Tramping Ground had come to him.

Billy Martin*'s highly psychological, atmospheric book stole two days from me.
I'd heard of his work for years and been told "Oh my God, you'll love it!".
The same things I'd heard about Anne Rice, actually, and they all proved true.

Martin's writing style was hard to get used to (for about five pages) but it grew on me.
It's not as oversaturated with purple ink as I was dreading it might be. It's blunt when need be, but most of the writing is beautiful.

Thought deserted him again. He felt like a man made out of television static, of a million roaring, hissing sliver dots.

I deducted some points for overuse of all-caps SHOUTING and triple exclamation points used on the same word. Individually I might have been able to ignore them, but on the same word?
No. Sorry.
It's nothing to be a special kind of bitch about. I was probably four-starring this anyway.

Psychological horror as its very best, with beautiful, truthful depictions of southern small-town beauty and danger.
I'll be continuing with Martin's work, starting, I hope, with Lost Souls which apparently also takes place in Missing Mile.

So, uh, on a wee bit of a, um... *clears throat* Personal note, getting this book finished by October 11th was kind of important for me, hence tossing it in for Hallo-reads at the last second.
October 11th is National Coming Out day, nicknamed in the community as 'Outoberfest'.
So, uh...
Have I mentioned that

I'm actually 99% sure I have, I think I mentioned it in at least one review, possibly two, but there it is for ya.
Annnd I just ruined what I meant to be a heartfelt review for a book I loved and a message that hit home with a dumbass gif.
I should probably feel ashamed about that but that would be the opposite of what I want anyone reading this here review to feel, so meh.

The inner third-person monologue of an eighty-something-year-old man who witnessed Trevor and Zach kissing actually woke my cold dead heart up a little and brought some tiny little tears to my jaded bitch eyes.

Now they could do it in public if they wanted to, with the nonchalance of any young couple in love. He wished he had been born in such a time, or had been brave enough to help make that time.

In closing, if there are any teenyboppers reading this review-
Hey, wait a sec. This is a review for a graphic horror novel. Get outta here before I kick your ass!
... Okay, are the squares gone?
Alrighty then, let's level.
Look, not as many people want you dead as you think, okay? The key to accepting yourself and being alright with who you are is getting that through your skull.
I'm not saying don't watch your back, because it ain't ideal and it might still be a while before it really is, but the world isn't out to get you.
The sooner you realize that, the happier you'll be.
And don't waste your time with people who don't accept you or respect you, (a root point in Drawing Blood, if you want a book report term) because life is too short.

Happy Outoberfest, my friends.

-Zombie S.A Hunter.

*The author who wrote under Poppy Z. Brite has undergone gender-reassignment and goes by the name Billy Martin*