![]() I didn’t cry when we buried him, although my dad told me nobody would think less of me if I did, but I cried when she told me. ![]() She told me my collie, Rags, had been struck and killed by a truck that hadn’t even bothered to stop. One day when I was nine, my mother met me at the door when I came home from school. I just lay down on the bed that now belonged to me alone, and put my arm over my eyes, and mourned. The house where no baby had come, or now ever would. I didn’t cry when I went back inside the little house with the great big mortgage, either. “Boy meets girl on the AA campus”-that’s another saying they have in those meetings. “Even when you told me I had to go to rehab or you were leaving.” This conversation happened about six weeks before she packed her things, drove them across town, and moved in with Mel Thompson. “I have never seen you shed tears,” she said, speaking in the flat tones people use when they are expressing the absolute final dealbreaker in a relationship. I was “unable to feel my feelings,” in AA-speak. But then, when I didn’t cry at my own parents’ funerals-they died just two years apart, Dad of stomach cancer and Mom of a thunderclap heart attack while walking on a Florida beach-she began to understand the nonexistent gradient thing. Christy said she supposed she could forgive me not crying at her father’s funeral I had only known him for six years and couldn’t understand what a wonderful, giving man he had been (a Mustang convertible as a high school graduation present, for instance). My ex-wife said that my “nonexistent emotional gradient” was the main reason she was leaving me (as if the guy she met in her AA meetings was beside the point). But writers have weapons too.King_112263_i-852_PTR.indd 11 8/30/11 9:52 AM I have never been what you’d call a crying man. He's an entertainer held captive by his audience. Wheelchair-bound, drug-dependent, locked in his room, Paul doesn't have much choice. ![]() And it's not good that her favorite writer has been a Don't-Bee and written a different kind of novel, a nasty novel, the novel he has always wanted to write, the only copy of which now lies in Annie's angry hands.īecause she wants Paul Sheldon to be a Do-Bee, she buys him a typewriter and a ream of paper and tells him to bring Misery back to life. ![]() It's not fair, for example, that her favorite character in the world, Misery Chastain, has been killed by her creator, as Annie discovers when Paul's latest novel comes out in paperback. A dangerous psychotic with a Romper Room sense of good and bad, fair and unfair, Annie Wilkes may be Stephen King's most terrifying creation. He wakes up to unspeakable pain (a dislocated pelvis, a crushed knee, two shattered legs) and to a bizarre greeting from the woman who has saved his life: "I'm your number one fan!"Īnnie Wilkes is a huge ex-nurse, handy with controlled substances and other instruments of abuse, including an axe and a blowtorch. Paul Sheldon, author of a bestselling series of historical romances, wakes up one winter day in a strange place, a secluded farmhouse in Colorado. Stephen King is arguably the most popular novelist in the history of American fiction.
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