We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones - Stephen King
In my teens and early twenties, I adored horror movies and books. I still love both. I remember reading Stephen King’s “Pet Cemetery” when I was 16 and not going near my grandparents cat for weeks. I remember seeing “Scream” and not wanting to sleep under any windows but perhaps the most dominant memory is Freddy Krueger. The paedophile serial killer who I often wished would visit the dreams of people I went to school with. Yes. I was a disturbing adolescent (and adult).
Why am I telling you all this?
I’m sharing this with you because of Stephen King’s “Desperation”. For those of you who haven’t read it, or seen the movie (which I didn’t actually know existed) I won’t spoil it. I can’t, cause I haven’t finished it.
Let me give you the bare basics.
People are driving along highway 50 in Nevada and at random points are pulled over by a cop who, as the book progresses is getting creepier and creepier. This cop randomly kills some of the people he arrests for various “crimes” and locks others up for future murders. At the moment, the people he has locked up have just escaped, but being only half way through, I just know there’s potential for things to end badly.
I digress but all of this comes to a head last Sunday night. I had been in Toowoomba for my Grandad’s 80th birthday. As always, the time comes when you have to go home. And so, I find myself driving the Gatton Bypass – roughly 70kms of sheer, unbroken boredom (44miles for those playing in other countries). It’s 7:15pm, dark and raining and all of a sudden, a cop car goes flying past me. Trust me. It might not sound like much, but this is why you need to have read “Desperation” to understand the panic I felt.