A Night with the King

Words in bold are all stories written by Stephen King
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         It was Four Past Midnight and the couple sat huddled next to each other in Dolan’s Cadillac. David felt a Misery unlike any other, his teeth chattering from the cold since the car’s heater gave out almost an hour ago. Harry, his companion, could barely contain his Rage at the mishap, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the borrowed Cadillac had stopped in the middle of what seemed to be an unfinished Road Work.

         “I still say we need to at least find a phone somewhere,” Harry reasoned with The Colorado Kid, who was already shaking his head vehemently in denial.

         “I don’t feel like taking The Long Walk, Harry,” David argued, “Neither do I feel like getting lost in the middle of nowhere.”

         “I saw a Black House a few miles back,” Harry was saying as he brought out his Cell phone. “We could…”

         “Dude, there were no lights on,” David interrupted curtly, now feeling quite put out. “It had a ‘For Sale’ sign in front and besides, is it just me or is the air getting Thinner?”

         Harry snorted. “Probably just you, but I’m leaving. You can wait here for me if you want.”

         He opened the door and stepped into the night, shivering as a blast of cold air hit him like a ton of bricks. He shrugged his jacket tighter around him and almost yelped in surprise as someone suddenly tugged his arm. David now stood behind him, his features as white as a sheet, eyes wide with his breath coming out in harsh gasps.

         “You can’t leave me in there,” came the quick remark as he began to lead the way. Harry hid a small smile at his friend’s stubbornness, but followed willingly enough. As they walked, their feet made low crunching noises on dead leaves and twigs, both realizing that for some odd reason, there was a green glow on the uneven stretch of dirt road.

         “The Green Mile,” David muttered.

         “What’s that?” Harry asked, his glances darting everywhere. There were too many shadows. It was too silent, and the trees that surrounded this stretch of road towered over them like silent skeletons. Although Harry hated to admit it, it was his fault. If only he paid more attention to Lisey’s Story at the bar. She had tried to give them the right directions to the hotel, but he had been too distracted by The Shining lights draped behind the counter. When he inquired about it, Lisey said it was a Dreamcatcher given to her by her grandfather. It was a very precious family heirloom.

         Either way, Harry had gotten lost after the turnpike and David let him have it after almost an hour of aimless driving. Harry had suffered his friend’s rebukes, knowing he deserved it. He had, however, not expected the rental car to run out of gas. What a goddamn inconvenience.

         “Nothing,” David mumbled irritably. “Ah, there’s The Dark Tower. Hopefully, the Dark Master will be home to welcome his latest victims.”

         “Don’t be so negative, Dave,” Harry replied with barely concealed impatience. Yes, he might be the one at fault, but at least David could try to give him a break. He was trying his best. “If you had charged the batteries to the cell phones…”

         “What?” David snapped. “What was that about charging the phones? Was I the one rushing us into the car this morning, making me forget to pack the chargers? I— argh!”

         He stumbled over the protruding slab of stone and fell flat on his face, coughing as several leaves slipped into his mouth.

         “You okay, Dave?” Harry asked in concern. He walked closer to his fallen friend, only to suck in a harsh breath as he noticed what surrounded them. From the earth, wooden crosses - some weathered and worn from the years, barely straight and twisted from neglect - dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. There were a few marble or stone slabs and as Harry polished off one such tombstone, he read the words softly beneath his breath.

         “Carrie the Canary. The best pet ever. Hey, Dave,” he muttered as he rose to his feet. “What do you think this place is? A Pet Semetary of some sort? Huh? Dave?”

         An eerie silence heralded his call.

         Harry spun around slowly, feeling a chill like a thousand icy needles crawling up his arms and down his spine.

         “Dave?” he called out again. The darkness was beginning to overwhelm him and what little light they had (thanks to the ‘green’ road) was ebbing away with each passing minute. “Okay, cut the crap. Where are you, Dave?”

         He tried to sound upset, even annoyed at the prank, but panic was beginning to rise from the pit of his stomach like a virus, eating up his insides and rendering him breathless. The silence was deafening. There wasn’t even a cricket or owl hooting somewhere in the woods to break the monotony. To make matters worse, the house looked—

         “Harry!”

         “Dave!” He turned towards the familiar voice, feeling a surge of relief so great, he almost fell to his knees in gratitude. He held out his hands like a blind man. “Dave? Where are you?”

         “In front of you, I think…keeping walking…”

         “Where were you?”

         “What do you mean where was I? I’ve been here all this time. I kept calling you and wondered where you were.”

         “What? What’s happening? You’re sounding distant. Where the fuck are you? Argh!”

         His boots fell heavily on something that seemed to make a brittle sound beneath his feet. He jumped back in alarm, heartbeat racing as he fell to his knees to feel for what he had stepped on. Searching fingers finally found what they were looking for, and a quick investigation told him it was a sack of some sort. He found the opening, brought out one of its contents and had to fight back a scream at the empty sockets and ghastly grin that stared back at him. He dropped it quickly, body trembling as he took a staggering step backwards.

         “Harry?” Harry!” David’s voice again. Much closer this time.

         “Be careful,” Harry called out, surprised that his voice still sounded quite normal. “There’s a Bag of Bones here. Human bones, Dave.”

         “Are you shitting me?”

         “Wish I was.”

         “Let’s head toward the house together,” David suggested. There was a tremor in his voice that wasn’t lost on Harry. They both tried to hold on to their sanity. “There’s something out here and I don’t like it.”

         “Right. To the house and we’ll meet on the front porch….what? What was that?”

         “What was what?”

         “That sound. Shssh, listen.”

         They both fell silent, listening alertly to whatever it was that Harry must have—

         “Singing,” Harry whispered in awe. “And it’s coming…”

         “From the house!” David cut in. Sure enough there was the soft and barely audible song drifting from the closed shutters of the building they approached warily. It sounded melancholy and yet heartbreakingly beautiful, as if the singer was trapped and sought a way to escape the prison he or she found herself in.

         David fought back a yelp as he felt the cold hand grip his. He turned to notice that Harry had finally found him. Without thinking about his decision, David wrapped his arms around his friend in near Desperation, noticing that Harry trembled.

         “You knock,” he whispered as they stood before the door with a rusty brass knocker in the shape of a roaring lion.

         However, Harry had barely lifted his hand to do as he was told, when the door creaked open slowly causing both men to take fearful steps backwards. A lone candle peeked from the shadows and its dull glow hid the face behind it for a moment. It was soon lowered to reveal piercing dark eyes that watched them warily. The stranger’s hair was of darkest night and seemed to blend in the black that surrounded him. Harry and David could not make out what he wore, and it wasn’t as if this man – who looked no older than them – was about to let them in anytime soon.

         “Uuum…” David cleared his throat. “May…May we use your phone? Our car broke down about a mile down the road and our cell phones died on us and…”

         “We’d just like to make a quick phone call if it’s not too much trouble,” Harry finished quietly.

         “Are you part of The Regulators?” the man asked. His voice was polished, refined, like something you’d hear out of the pages of a Victorian novel with just the faintest hint of an accent.

         “The…who?” David asked in bemusement.

         “I think he means the police, Dave,” Harry whispered, and then managed to smile at the mystery man. “No, we aren’t regulators. We’re just normal citizens.”

         This seemed to appease the man as he took a step back and bowed politely. “Please step in. Perhaps we can find a device to help you with your problem.”

         David and Harry exchanged a quick look, Harry wincing as David dug his fingers into his flesh as a warning. Yes, this scene was all too perfect. A strange house in the middle of nowhere with no power and a guy who looked like he was a ghost? No way were they going in. The man seemed to notice their hesitation, and he gave a small smile – one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

         “Is there a problem, good sirs?”

         “Eh…” David began, and for lack of what to say, “We heard singing.”

         The man raised a brow. “Ah yes, the Song of Susannah.”

         “Who?”

         The man looked toward what must have been the upstairs and continued quietly. “The Lady Christine sings that song every night. She was The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, and he built this home in her honor. Every night, she waits for him – like a fool – perhaps assuming he’d return and hail his return From a Buick 8. The poor soul.”

         Harry swallowed, feeling David’s grip now so tight, he was sure he was losing circulation down there. “And…where is this Tom Gordon character?”

         “He left for the war. He had to take The Stand against the enemies like his compatriots after all.”

         “What war? The Iraq war?” David asked in bemusement.

         The man looked at them as if they were great dunces and replied slowly. “The War of 1913.”

         "Oh shit,” David mumbled as he took a step backwards, tugging Harry gently. “Let’s split, Harry. Now,” he added in a vehement and harsh whisper.

         “Ah, but I cannot let you do that,” the man said with a grin that now seemed to grow wider, showing sharp canines that gleamed in the gloom. “For you see, my mistress has longed for someone to keep her company. Her Insomnia is quite legendary and has driven many of the Skeleton Crew, especially those who work the Night Shift, so far away.”

         “Well, sorry buddy,” David replied. “We aren’t staying to find out or to keep your possibly dead mistress company. Thanks but no thanks. Let’s go, Harry!”

         “After them Cujo!” the man suddenly yelled, and as Harry and David turned to flee, they heard the most bone-chilling growl of what sounded like a dog or wolf behind them. From the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes and sharp canines heralded the appearance of the largest St. Bernard they had ever seen. It seemed to tower over their host, its matted and blood soaked fur adding to its menacing look. With a low roar, its jaws snapping with froth and drool combined, the beast leapt out of the darkness and toward the two men who seemed rooted to the ground in abject terror.

         It was Harry who snapped out his daze first. “Run, Dave!” he yelled, dragging his friend by the scruff of his shirt and forcing them to move.

         They could hear the mysterious man’s maniacal laugh as they staggered down the uneven path, desperately trying to get away from the barking beast that was rapidly closing in on them. David tried hard to keep up with Harry, but his legs felt numb and refused to cooperate with him. He cried out in dismay as he felt Harry’s grip slackening, his legs buckling beneath him as he fell to the cold ground.

         “Harry!” he screamed after The Running Man, tears of frustration and hopelessness washing over him. Cujo was bearing down on him. He could literally feel the rotten and decayed breath, the burning sting of the drool, which to David’s horror was mingled with maggots, falling on his face and arms. The dog was going to eat him alive and there was nothing he could do at all. It was all Harry’s fault. If only he had listened to the directions. If only he hadn’t missed that turnpike. It was his fault. It was his fault…his fault…his goddamn…

         “…fault!” He opened his eyes with a small cry, blinking rapidly as he tried to control his thudding heartbeat and shallow breathing.

         “Dave? Are you okay?”

         He turned to look at his concerned companion and then at his surroundings. They were still in Dolan’s Cadillac and he shivered at the cold since the heater had stopped working a while back.

         “A…a dream?”

         “Hmm? Having one of your Dark Visions again?” Harry muttered as he searched through his pockets for his Cell phone. “I still say we should at least find a phone. I think I saw a Black House a mile back.”

         “Wha…what?” David’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Harry was already stepping out of the car, and for some reason David could not tell him to stop. To warn him that something terrible was about to happen. It was like watching a movie being rewound over and over again and David was powerless to stop it.

         “You can stay here and wait for me if you want,” Harry said with a small smile. “I should be right--”

         “No!” came the quick reply as David scrambled out of the car to stand beside his companion. “Don’t…don’t leave me all alone, Harry.”

         He wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder, shivering as he stared at the glowing green path to the house that waited patiently in the darkness. For somehow David knew that this time, escaping would not be an option.





Word Count: 2408