I’ve lived in Maine for a delightful thirteen years now, Modern Philosophers, and The House on the Hill is strategically located only a few miles from Stephen King’s stately, easily recognizable mansion.
Yet I’ve never once run into Maine’s most famous resident, who happens to be one of my favorite authors.
And I’m kinda pissed about it!
Most people I know here have a story about running into King at some point around town. He used to be just a regular guy you’d bump into at the grocery store, or nod to at a sporting event.
I’m pretty sure everyone I know in Maine used to go trick or treating at his house, where he and his wife would hand out king size candy bars.
But nothing for me. I got a rock in the Stephen King department.
Back in the old days, when I was an innocent newlywed, J and I spent out honeymoon in Maine. It was our first trip to our future home, and one of the stops on our whirlwind romantic tour was Stephen King’s house. There was even a photo in our wedding album of me smiling brightly in front of the famous spooky wrought iron gates.
Yes, I was that much of a geek even then.
No, I did not see Stephen King on that visit, either.
He appeared to be quite comfortable and there was no sign of forced entry.
Perhaps my frequent house guest, The Devil, had given him a key. All I know is that Stephen King was sitting on my couch, watching my TV, and acting like this was all completely normal.
It was pretty much like something out of one of his short stories, which made me suddenly fear for my life.
Luckily, I was in no real danger because it all turned out to be a dream. Even in my subconscious, I still don’t get to spend any time with the man.
What the hell is that about?
I’ve been having some very weird dreams lately. I blame that on the heat, my total exhaustion from working so many hours of overtime, and the stress that has my mind racing and my heart off kilter.
Why Stephen King, though? Maybe it has to do with my working harder on my writing lately. Perhaps it’s because I just started a new book by him…The Long Walk.
I’d much prefer to burn brain cells creatively while working on a new story idea, instead of simply wasting them on endless hours of mindless office work.
I’m still not sure what the hell Stephen King was doing on my couch, but my weary mind certainly welcomed the distraction.
Are you a Stephen King fan, too? You should totally follow me on Pinterest!