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When you hear horror or think of horror, what’s the first name that pops into most people’s mind? Stephen King, right? Why do you think that is? The answer is obvious. There are few authors who can compare when it comes to his skill or the number of books written and sold.
I love King’s writing and continue to be a faithful reader. He has a way of writing about something that we all can relate to. Let’s take the book IT. Now, tell me after you read the title that a clown wasn’t the first thing that popped into your mind. Sure it was. To incorporate a clown into this story was brilliant. Why was this brilliant? Clowns are intriguing to children. They’re intriguing because they’re funny, faces are painted, and they carry balloons. King knew if he brought the clown to the story, the children would be drawn in. Once they were there, he unleashed the terrifying clown with razor sharp teeth on them. This book changed generations on how clowns are viewed. I have actually seen clowns when I was young that gave me the willies as most of you probably have, too. That’s the relating factor. What about the bullies in the story? That’s something else I can relate to.
King is a masterful storyteller, even though the rational mind knows there’s nothing there, he makes my brain work. He has a talent for placing his readers into the world he creates, whether it is the backwoods of Maine, 1930’s prison, or a world entirely of his own imagination. The characters you will want to root for are placed in situations where they have to fight to live. He’s not afraid to kill off the good guys either because evil wins in real life sometimes.
When I read King’s books, it fuels my drive to write and strive to become a number one seller. I definitely want to follow in his footsteps.
Patrick Royal is a family man. Born in Virginia, raised in Northwest Indiana, he and his wife Lynette have resided in Western Kentucky for ten years. An avid reader of Stephen King. He’s inspired to use the gift God gave him to chill his readers. He’s also the author of Novels “Jacob’s Closet,” Sleep Stalker, and Mind Shadows: Book 1: Shattered.
The only thing that multi-published, award winning horror author, Tom Elliot, wanted was to move to the country for a change of scenery and relaxation, to a quiet part of southern Illinois. It seemed he’d picked out a wonderful spot, miles away from the closest neighbor and even further away from civilization.
Tom couldn’t write to save his soul. Weird thoughts trampled through his head and left him wondering if he’d made a mistake moving from Chicago. Could it have been that he ripped himself from his element, like his best friend, Michael Gully, had predicted? That he couldn’t answer yet.
Words came and flowed like wildfire, but at what price? Tom’s imagination was getting the best of him and running rampant. The very characters that he created tormented him, driving him mad where he couldn’t distinguish fiction from reality.
A moan drifted from the next room and teased Tom’s ear. Stopping to listen, he struggled to figure out what he’d heard. He stepped slowly into the living room. A woman stood with her back toward him. His heart thudded fast.
The woman moaned. Her long-fitted skirt hugged her hips, and a pleated white shirt. On the floor by her feet lay droplets of blood.
Tom peeped around the woman’s body and caught a glance of her face. “Lady, who are you? Why are you in my house?” he asked and widened his eyes.
Tom still faced the woman’s back, and she wept a bit harder. “You should know why I’m here,” she said in a soft but shaky voice. She turned around, faced him, and quickly threw her arms out in front of her. Blood trickled and dripped onto the floor from deep slits across both wrists. In her hand she held a yellow hair ribbon.
Tom’s jaw dropped open and he stumbled back, widening his view. “Oh my God. Wha…?”
The woman stepped closer to him and held her arms out with her wounds still dripping blood. Her body projected forward, as if traveling in flash.
“You did this! You killed my daughter, and you made me what you see.” She shoved her bloody wrists toward Tom.
“No, no. You’ve made a mistake,” Tom screamed and backed away from her. He clung to the wall with his legs weakening and his hands trembling.
The woman stood and laughed hysterically.
Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re not real. You’re not real,” he screamed. Opening his eyes, the woman had disappeared, the room once again silent. Tom sank to his knees, sat on the floor, and leaned against the wall with a blank stare.
Not long after the sun rose high in the sky, Tom’s nerves finally calmed. He called Michael, and it ended similar to the other times he called him for some well needed answers. His friend proved unable to offer any help. Hanging up, Tom sat at his desk more confused than ever. Am I losing my mind like Michael fears? He chuckled over his friend’s reaction when he told him that he planned to take a small break from writing. He had to admit that it even sounded strange to hear himself say it. Maybe, he was losing it. He had never really been scared of anything. Michael was the one that had always been scared and had nightmares over things that bothered him. What bothered him now was that he loved where he lived, but he hated the idea of being so far away from Michael. He had grown used to driving over to his house and discussing life’s little problems, and vice versa.