We ran up to the lab door and threw it open. It was empty. The
screams and the terrible mewing sounds came from the garage. I
ran through, and ever since have been glad that Vicki stayed in the
lab and was spared the sight that had wakened me from a thousand
awful nightmares.
The lab was darkened and all that I could make out was a huge
shadow moving sluggishly. And the screams! Screams of terror,
the screams of a man faced with a monster from the pits of hell. It
mewed horribly and seemed to pant in delight.
My hand moved around for a light switch. There, I found it! Light
flooded the room, illuminating a tableau of horror that was the
result of the grave thing I had performed, I and the dead uncle.
A huge, white maggot twisted on the garage floor, holding
Weinbaum with long suckers, raising him towards its dripping,
pink mouth from which horrid mewing sounds came. Veins, red
and pulsating, showed under its slimy flesh and millions of
squirming tiny maggots - in the blood vessels, in the skin, even
forming a huge eye that stared out at me. A huge maggot, made up
of hundreds of millions of maggots, the feasters on the dead flesh
that Weinbaum had used so freely.
In a half-world of terror I fired the revolver again and again. It
mewed and twitched.
Weinbaum screamed something as he was dragged inexorably
toward the waiting mouth. Incredibly, I made it out over the
hideous sound that the creature was making.
"Fire it! In the name of heaven, fire it!"
Then I saw the sticky pools of green liquid which had trickled over
the floor from the laboratory. I fumbled for my lighter, got it and
frantically thumbed it. Suddenly I remembered that I had forgotten
to put a flint in. I reached for matches, got one and fired the others.
I threw the pack just as Weinbaum screamed his last. I saw his
body through the translucent skin of the creature, still twitching as
thousands of maggots leeched onto it. Retching, I threw the now
flaring matches into the green ooze. It was flammable, just as I had
thought. It burst into bright flames. The creature was twisted into a
horrid ball of pulsing, putrid flesh.
I turned and stumbled out to where Vicki stood, shaking and white
faced.
"Come on!" I said, "Let's get out of here! The whole place is going
to go up!"
We ran out to the car and drove away rapidly.
CHAPTER NINE
There isn't too much left to say. I'm sure that you have all read
about the fire that swept the residential Belwood District of
California, leveling fifteen square miles of woods and residential
homes. I couldn't feel too badly about that fire. I realize that
hundreds might have been killed by the gigantic maggot-things
that Weinbaum and Rankin were breeding. I drove out there after
the fire. The whole place was smoldering ruins. There was no
discernable remains of the horror that we had battled that final
night, and, after some searching, I found a metal cabinet. Inside
there were three ledgers.
Once of them was Weinbaum's diary. I clears up a lot. It revealed
that they were experimenting on dead flesh, exposing it to gamma
rays. One day they observed a strange thing. The few maggots that
had crawled over the flesh were growing, becoming a group.
Eventually they grew together, forming three separate large
maggots. Perhaps the radioactive bomb had speed up the evolution.
I don't know.
Furthermore, I don't want to know.
In a way, I suppose, I assisted in Rankin's death; the flesh of the
body whose grave I had robbed had fed perhaps the very creature
that had killed him.
I live with that thought. But I believe that there can be forgiveness.
I'm working for it. Or, rather, we're working for it.
Vicki and I. Together.
THE END
IN THE KEY CHORD OF
DAWN
STEPHEN KING
first appeared in
Contraband#2 Onan 1971
In the key-chords of dawn
all waters are depthless.
The fish flash recalls
timberline clefts where water
pours between the rocks of frost.
We live the night and wait
for the day dream
(we fished the Mississippi with
Norville as children
catching mostly crawdaddies from
the brown silk water)
when we say "love is responsibility";
our poles are adrift in a sea of compliments.
Now you fish for me and I for you.
The line, the red bobber, the worm on the hook: the fishing more
than the
eating: bones and scales and gutting knife make a loom of
complexity so we are
forced to say "fishing is responsibility"
and put away our poles.
Jhonathan and the Witches
Stephen King
From
First Words 1993, King wrote this 1956
Once upon a time there was a boy named Jhonathan. He was smart,
handsome, and very brave. But, Jhonathan was cobblers son.
One days his father said, "Jhonathan, you must go and seek your
fortune. You are old enough."
Jhonathan, being a smart boy knew he better ask the king for work.
So, he set out.
On the way, he met a rabbit who was a fairy in disguise. The
scared thing was being pursued by hunters and jumped into
Jhonathans arms. When the hunters came up Jhonathan pointed
excitedly and shouts, "That way, that way !"
After the hunters had gone, the rabbit turned into a fairy and said,
"you have helped me. I will give you three wishes. What are they?"
But Jhonathan could not think of anything, so the fairy agreed to
give him when he needed them.
So Jhonathan kept walking until he made the kingdom without
incident.
So he went to the king and asked for work.
But, as luck would have it, the king was in a very bad mood that
day. So he vented his mood on Jhonathan.
"Yes there is something you can do. On yonder Mountain there are
three witches. If you can kill them, I will give you 5,000 crowns. If
you cannot do it I will have your head! You have 20 days." With
this he dismissed Jhonathan.
"Now what am I to do?", thought Jhonathan. Well I shall try.
The he remembered the three wishes granted him and set out door
the mountain.
* * *
Now Jhonathan was at the mountain and was just going to wish for
a knife to kill the witch, when he heard a voice in his ear, "The first
witch cannot be pierced."
The second witch cannot be pierced or smothered.
The third cannot be pierced, smothered and is invisible.
With this knowledge Jhonathan looked about and saw no one.
Then he remembered the fairy, and smile.
He then went in search of the first witch.
At last he found her. She was in a cave near the foot of the
mountain, and was a mean looking hag.
He remembered the fairy words, and before the witch could do
anything but give him an ugly look, he wished
she should be
smothered. And Lo! It was done.
Now he went higher in search of the second witch. There was a
second cave higher up. There he found the second witch. He was
about to wish her smothered when he remembered she could not be
smothered. And the before the witch could do anything but give
him an ugly look, he had wished her crushed. And Lo! It was done
Now he had only to kill the third witch and he would have the
5,000 crowns. But on the way up, he was plagued with thoughts of
how?
Then he it upon a wonderful plan.
The, he saw the last cave. He waited outside the entrance until he
heard the witches footsteps. He then picked up a couple of big
rocks and wishes.
He the wished the witch a normal women and Lo! She became
visible and then Jhonathan struck her head with the rocks he had.
Jhonathan collected his 5,000 crowns and he and his father lived
happily ever after.
The End
STEPHEN
KING
Keyholes
The
Leprechaun
by
Stephen King
Incomplete novel King was writing for his son Owen in 1983. King
had written several pages of the story in longhand in a notebook
and then transcribed them. While on a trip to California, he wrote
about 30 more pages of the story in the same notebook, which was
lost off the back of his motorcycle (somewhere in coastal New
Hampshire) on a trip from Boston to Bangor. He mentioned that he
could reconstruct what was lost, but had not gotten around to it (as
of June, 1983). The only part that still exists today is the 5
typescript pages that had been transcribed. The 5 pages, plus a 3-
page cover letter to a senior editor at Viking are now owned by a
King collector.
Once upon a time--which is how all the best stories start-- a little
boy named Owen was playing outside his big red house. He was
pretty bored because his big brother and big sister, who could
always think of things to do, were in school. His daddy was
working, and his mom was sleeping upstairs. She asked him if he
would like a nap, but Owen didn't really like naps. He thought they
were boring.
He played with his G.I. Joe men for awhile, and then he went
around to the back and swung on the swing for awhile. He gave the
tetherball a big hit with his first--ka-bamp!--and watched the rope
wind up as the ball went around and around the pole. He saw his
big sister's softball bat lying in the grass and wished Chris, the big
boy who sometimes came to play with him, was there to throw him
a few pitches. But Chris was in school too. Owen walked around
the house again. He thought he would pick some flowers for his
mother. She liked flowers pretty well.
He got around to the front of the house and that was when he saw
Springsteen in the grass. Springsteen was his big sister's new cat.
Owen liked most cats, but he didn't like Springsteen much. Hie
was big and black, with deep green eyes that seemed to see
everything. Every day owen had to make sure that Springsteen
wasn't trying to eat Butler. Butler was Owen's guinea pig. When
Springsteen thought no one was around, he would jump up on the
shelf' where Butler's big glass cage was and stare in through the
screen on top with his hungry green eyes. Springsteen wuld sit
there, all crouched down, and hardly move at all. Springsteen's tail
would wag back and forth a little, and sometimes one of his ears
would flick a bit, but that was all. I'll get in there pretty soon, you
cruddy little guinea pig, Springsteen seemed to say. And when I
get you, I'll eat you! Better believe it! If guinea pigs say prayers,
you better say yours!
Whenever Owen saw Springsteen the cat up on Butler's shelf, he
would make him get down. Sometimes Springsteen put his claws
out (although he knew better than to try to put them in Owen) and
Owen imagined the black cat saying, You caught me this time, but
so what? Big deal! Someday you won't! And then, yum! yum!
dinner is served! Owen tried to tell people that Springsteen wanted
to eat Butler, but nobody believed him.
"Don't worry, Owen," Daddy said, and went off to work on a
novel that's what he did for work.
"Don't worry, Owen," Mommy said, and went off to work on a
noivel-because that was what she did for work, too.
"Don't worry, Owen" Big Brother said, and went off to watch The
Tomorrow People on TV.
"You just hate my cat!" Big sister said, and went off to play The
Entertainer on the piano.
But no matter what they said, Owen knew he'd better keep a good
old eye on Springsteen, because Springsteen certainly did like to
kill things. Worse, he liked to play with them before he killed
them. Sometimes Owen would open the door in the morning and
there would be a dead bird on the doorsteo. Then he would look
further, and there would be Springsteen crouched on the porch rail,
the tip of his tail switching slightly and his big green eyes looking
at Owen, as if to say: Ha! I got another one... and you couldn't stop
me, could you? Then Owen would ask permission to bury the dead
bird. Sometimes his mommy or daddy would help him.
So when Owen saw Springsteen on the grass of the front lawn, all
crouched down with his tail twirching, he thought right away that
the cat might be playing with some poor, hurt little animal. Owen
forgot about picking flowers for his mom and ran over to see what
Springsteen had caught.
At first he thought Springsteen didn't have anything at all. Then
the cat leaped, and Owen heard a very tiny scream from the grass.
He saw something green and blue between Springsteen had was
shrieking and trying to get away. And now Owen saw something
else-little spots of blood on the grass.
"No!" Owen shouted. "Get away, Springsteen!" The cat flattened
his ears back and turned towards the sound of Owen's voice. His
big green eyes glared. The green and blue thing between
Springsteen paws squiggled and wiggled and got away. I started to
run and Owen saw it was a person, a little tiny man wearing a
green hat made out of a leaf. The little man looked back over his
shoulder, and Owen saw how scared the little guy was. He was no
bigger than the mice Springsteen sometimes killed in their big dark
cellar. The little man had a cut down one of his cheeks from one of
Springsteen's claws.
Springsteen hissed at Owen and Owen could almost hear him say:
"Leave me alone, he's mine and I'm going to have him!"
Then Springsteen jumped for the little man again, just as quick as a
cat can jump-and if you have a cat of your own, you'll know that
is very fast. The little man in the grass tried to dodge away, but he
didn't quite make it, Owen saw the back of the little man's shirt
tear open as Springsteen's claws ripped it apart. And, I am sorry to
say, he saw more blood and heard the little man cry out in pain. He
went tumbling in the grass. His little leaf
hat went flying.
Springsteen got ready to jump again.
"No, Springsteen, no!" Owen cried. "Bad cat!"
He grabbed Springsteen. Springsteen hissed again, and his needle-
sharp teeth sank into one of Owen's hands. It hurt worse than a
doctor's shot. "Ow!" Owen yelled, tears coming to his eyes. But he
didn't let go of Springsteen. Now Springsteen started clawing at
Owen, but Owen would not let go. He ran all the way to the
driveway with Springsteen in his hands. Then he put Springsteen
down. "Leave him alone, Springsteen!" Owen said, and, trying to
think of the very worst thing he could, he added: "Leave him alone
or I'll put you in the Oven and bake you like a pizza!"
Springsteen hissed, showing his teeth. His tail switched back and
forth-not just the tip now but the whole thing.
"I don't care if you are mad!" Owen yelled at him. He was still
crying a little, because his hands hurt as if he had put them in the
fire. They were both bleeding, one from Springsteen biting him
and one from Springsteen clawing him. "You can't kill people on
our lawn even if they are little!"
Springsteen hised again and backed away. Okay, his mean green
eyes seemed to say. Okay for this time. Next time... we'll see!
Then he turned and ran away. Owen hurried back to see it the little
man was all right.
At first he thought the little man was gone. Then he saw the blood
on the grass, and the little leaf hat. The little man was nearby, lying
on his side. The reason Owen hadn't been able to see him at first
was the little man's shirt was the exact color of the grass. Owen
touched him gently with his finger. He was terribly afraid the little
man was dead. But when Owen touched him, the little man
groaned and sat up.
"Are you all right?" Owen asked.
The fellow in the grass made a face and clapped his hands to his
ears. For a moment Owen thought Springsteen must have hurt the
little guy's head as well as his back, and then he realized that his
voice must sound like thunder to such a small person. The little
man in the grass was not much longer than Owen's thumb. This
was Owen's first good look at the little fellow he had rescued, and
he saw right away why the little man had been so hard to find
again. His green shirt was not just the color of grass; it was grass.
Carefully woven blades of green grass. Owen wondered how come
they didn't turn brown.
Silence
Stephen King
Published in "Moth", 1970
The Collective Page 9
