Stephen King scares the beejesus out of me. Ever since I was sixteen years old and watched Dreamcatcher with my friends just his name alone invokes a serious shiver up my spine and the urge to hide under the blankets.
This book is a series of novellas, one of which is the sole reason I bought it a million years ago thanks to a certain Mr. Johnny Depp. (Secret Window.) I read that when the movie came out to compare and haven’t even considered trying to read the others because the thought of it makes me piddle a little bit.
But since I have a strict “No Chicken” rule lately I read the book and naturally slept with the light on for a few nights.
The Langoliers is the first one in the book and just imagining that the earth is abandoned freaks me out. Then come the noises and inside my very adept and imaginative brain, it’s like a horror movie in my head.
Needless to say, even with the “No Chicken” rule, I made it through the first novella and bailed on the rest. (Mostly because the one after Secret Window was about a police librarian or something. Didn’t appeal to me, oddly enough.)
I learned my lesson, Stephen King is a super freak and a God among writers and I must bow down to him or be terrified for the rest of my life.