You'd think I'd know better than to read a Stephen King novel in an empty house at 11 pm, but almost 2 years of working life have dulled my survival instincts.
In any case, it's a very bad idea to read a gripping short story about a woman who discovers that the man she'd been married to for 20 happy years is a serial murderer, especially when your boyfriend is out on some mysterious jaunt off to nowhere (Ok, he was off riding and enjoying an innocent Milo but the mind will wander where it wants!)
At that point, I was more than a little thankful that Singapore isn't the sort of country filled with countless unsolved murders and women's bodies turning up in swamps - just stupid little boys who try to hack each other with their mother's choppers in a shopping mall while yelling a string of gang-related battle-cries. Don't bend over in the shower is all I'm saying, you young fool.
In any case, when he came back, I put down the Kindle and launched into a condensed version of the story (the annoying thing about reading fiction is that you start to want to share it with other hapless people). As he listened patiently, eyebrows lifting higher and higher into his brow, I finished my babbling lamely with: I think what's really disturbing about the story is the idea that you never really know the person who's supposed to be the closest to you.
If that had been a scene in a shlocky horror story, I suppose that would have been the instance he'd have led me over to a secret compartment in the closet and begun showing me a stash of deceased people's belongings.
Instead, he wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully and said - in all earnestness - If either one of us were a serial murderer, it's more likely to be you.
Of course, it'd been hard to hear him, what with the clanging my jaw made when it hit the floor.
WHAT?!
In the oblivious rush toward certain doom:
Well...yeah. You're the more wily one. And you're so fierce when you're mad...Plus, you hog the bed. (pointed and futile shoving to get me to scoot over)
Only indignant spluttering from the serial murder-inclined half of the couple now.
But it's true! It can't be me. Do you think it's me?
After more spluttering, the horrible acceptance dawns.
When the police come a-knocking, I'll just hold out my wrists and go without a fight.
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4 comments:
haha...I got a chuckle out of that one.
Which King book were you reading? I'm a big fan of his...but I don't recall reading that particular story.
Thanks! It's his latest one - a collection of short stories, called Full Dark, No Stars. Classic King.
...That's the name of it! I couldn't remember what that was to save my life. I was telling a friend about it but soon as the title came up my mind went blank lol.
Have you read a lot of his books? I've read several myself...they sort of stick with you once they're over with haha
The one that made the most impact on me was Needful Things - I thought the idea of how objects were more than just inherently significant and could have a hold on you was a very intriguing one.
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