Carrie King, Stephen

Review Praise for Stephen King and Carrie "A master storyteller." --The Los Angeles Times "Guaranteed to chill you." --The New York Times "Gory and horrifying.... You can't put it down." --Chicago Tribune “[The] most wonderfully gruesome man on the planet.” —USA Today “Eerie and haunting—sheer terror!” —Publishers Weekly “Shivering, shuddery, macabre evil!” —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette “Stephen King has built a literary genre of putting ordinary people in the most terrifying situations. . . . he’s the author who can always make the improbable so scary you'll feel compelled to check the locks on the front door.” —The Boston Globe “Peerless imagination.” —The Observer (London) Product Description An unpopular teenage girl whose mother is a religious fanatic is tormented and teased to the breaking point by her more popular schoolmates and uses her hidden telekinetic powers to inflict a terrifying revenge. About the Author Stephen King is the author of more than fifty books, all of them worldwide bestsellers. Among his most recent are Doctor Sleep; Joyland; 11/22/63; Full Dark, No Stars; Under the Dome; Just After Sunset; End of Watch; and the latest novel in the Dark Tower saga: The Wind Through the Keyhole. His acclaimed nonfiction book On Writing is also a bestseller. Stephen is the 2003 recipient of The National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters and in 2007 he received the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America. He was also awarded the 2014 National Medal of Arts. He lives in Maine with his wife, novelist Tabitha King. www.stephenking.com Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. News item from the Westover (Me.) weekly Enterprise, August 19, 1966: RAIN OF STONES REPORTED It was reliably reported by several persons that a rain of stones fell from a clear blue sky on Carlin Street in the town of Chamberlain on August 17th. The stones fell principally on the home of Mrs. Margaret White, damaging the roof extensively and ruining two gutters and a downspout valued at approximately $25. Mrs. White, a widow, lives with her three-year-old daughter, Carietta. Mrs. White could not be reached for comment. Nobody was really surprised when it happened, not really, not at the subconscious level where savage things grow. On the surface, all the girls in the shower room were shocked, thrilled, ashamed, or simply glad that the White bitch had taken it in the mouth again. Some of them might also have claimed surprise, but of course their claim was untrue. Carrie had been going to school with some of them since the first grade, and this had been building since that time, building slowly and immutably, in accordance with all the laws that govern human nature, building with all the steadiness of a chain reaction approaching critical mass. What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic. Graffiti scratched on a desk of the Barker Street Grammar School in Chamberlain: Carrie White eats shit. The locker room was filled with shouts, echoes, and the subterranean sound of showers splashing on tile. The girls had been playing volleyball in Period One, and their morning sweat was light and eager. Girls stretched and writhed under the hot water, squalling, flicking water, squirting white bars of soap from hand to hand. Carrie stood among them stolidly, a frog among swans. She was a chunky girl with pimples on her neck and back and buttocks, her wet hair completely without color. It rested against her face with dispirited sogginess and she simply stood, head slightly bent, letting the water splat against her fl esh and roll off. She looked the part of the sacrificial goat, the constant butt, believer in left-handed monkey wrenches, perpetual foul-up, and she was. She wished forlornly and constantly that Ewen High had individual—and thus private— showers, like the high schools at Westover or Lewiston. They stared. They always stared. Showers