| Bastion1023 |
10-07-2013 09:21 PM |
I remember as a kid seeing my mother read horror books voraciously. She would start a book on Friday evening and read until she couldn't read anymore. She would does this until a couple of days later she had finished the book.
When she finished Pet Cemetary it was around 2:30 AM. We lived in a house in which if you stood at the front door you could see straight to the back door. Standing at her bedroom door, next to the front door, she could see an odd orange glow at the back door. She made her way to the back door, passing my room, the kitchen, my brothers room and entering the laundry room. As she peered through the dark, the source of the glow was revealed. An old clock radio that my father used to listen to music while he worked in the backyard.
Still agitated by the book and the eerie glow, my mom felt she should check on her sons. My brothers room was closest. His room had a large window, the curtains open allowed the bright moonlight to flood in. My brother had knocked his pillow onto the floor in his sleep. As my mom entered the room she bent down to pick up the pillow. Turning to look at my brother she was struck with the sight of a perfectly still boy, lit by pale moonlight staring through her. Unmoving, my brother was asleep with eyes wide open.
My mother screamed, jammed the pillow into my brothers face and ran to bed.
No more Stephen King after that night.
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