Download Chereads APP
Chereads App StoreGoogle Play
Chereads

Cross References In Stephen King

self-references engine

PROLOGUE: WRITING A SET OF all possible character strings. All possible books would be contained in that. Most unfortunately though, there is no guarantee whatsoever you would be able to find within it the book you were hoping for. It could be you might find a string of characters saying, “This is the book you were hoping for.” Like right here, now. But of course, that is not the book you were hoping for. I haven’t seen her since then. I think she’s most likely dead. After all, it has been hundreds of years. But then again, I also think this. Noticing her as she gazes intently into the mirror, the room in disarray; it is clear that centuries have flowed by, or some such. And she, perhaps, has finished applying her makeup, and she is getting up and is going out to look for me. Her eyes show no sign of taking in the fact that the house has been completely changed, destroyed around her. The change was gradual, continuing, and even long ago she was not very good at things like that. As far as she is concerned, that is not the sort of thing one has to pay attention to. Not that she is aware, but it seems so obvious, she doesn’t need to care about it. Have we drowned, are we about to drown, are we already finished drowning, are we not yet drowning? We are in one of those situations. Ofcourse, it could be that we will never drown. But think about it. I mean, even fish can drown. I remember her saying meanly, “If that’s the case, you must be the one from the past.” It is true of course. Everybody comes out of the past; it’s not that I’m some guy who comes from some particular past. Even when that is pointed out, though, she shows no sign of backing down. “It’s not as if I came out of some bizarro past,” she said. That’s how she and I met. Writing it down this way, it doesn’t seem like anything at all is about to happen, right? Between her and me, I mean. As if something could ever really happen. As if something continues to happen that might ever make something else happen. I am repeating myself, but I haven’t seen her since then. She promised me, with a sweet smile, that I would never see her again. For the short time we were together, we tried to talk about things that really meant something to us. Around that time there were a lot of things that were all mixed up, and it was not easy to sort out what was really real. There might be a pebble over there, and when you took your eyes off it it turned into a frog, and when you took your eyes off it again it turned into a horsefly. The horsefly that used to be a frog remembered it used to be a frog and stuck out its tongue to try to eat a fly, and then remembered it used to be a pebble and stopped and crashed to the ground. With all this going on, it’s really important to know what’s really real and what’s not. “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived a boy and a girl.” “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived boys and girls.” “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived no boy and no girl.” “Once upon a time…lived.” “Lived.” “Once upon a time.” From beginning to end, we carried on this back-and-forth process. For example, in this dialogue, we were somehow finally mutually able to comeup with this kind of compromise statement: “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived a boy and a girl. There may have been lots of boys, and there may have been lots of girls. There may have been no boys at all, and there may have been no girls at all. There may even have been no one at all. At any rate there is little chance there were equal numbers of each. That is unless there had never been anybody at all anyway.” That was our first meeting, she and I, and of course it meant we would never see each other again. I was making my way in the direction she had come from, and she was headed in the direction I had come from, and this is a somewhat important point; you must realize this walking had to be,
author_3 · 1.3K Views

Dangerous: Don't cross the line!

* At night He was rugged and untamed. That one steamy night left Grace utterly captivated. She coyly stretched out her dainty, snow-white feet, hooking them around his waist as she softly laid down her terms: For the first time, no staying overnight. The second time, the moment he got himself a significant other, she'd vanish from his side. Later on, their liaison would remain strictly on a physical level. No strings of money attached, no emotional fetters, just the most primal and unadulterated desires that flared up when night fell, entwining them like a web spun by countless spiders. And once the moment had passed, she'd straighten her skirt and turn her back on him, cold as ice. *During daytime He was the heir to a vast business empire, now impeccably dressed in a sharp suit, exuding an air of aristocratic reserve. He extended his hand to her with a polite smile, “Hello, Grace.” Grace gritted her teeth in secret dismay. She hastened to call off whatever was brewing between them, only to find herself cornered against the dressing room by the man, with no way out. In that cramped space, he was a relentless predator, and she, his irresistible quarry. His firmness pressed against her soft curves, setting every inch ablaze. Outside the door, her female colleagues were swooning over his chiseled abs. Just a thin partition away, he locked his arm around her willowy waist, seized her delicate hand, and guided it to rest on his taut abdomen, his voice dripping with a sultry allure, “Thought you could slip away? It's far too late for that.”
Katubari · 6.8K Views
Related Topics
More