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I was clear. "No! This book, he began to understand, was a gothic novel, and thus was more dependent on plot than on situation. There was a picture of a pale gent with a narrow face and a woman with dark eyes and a pursy mouth. The car turned into the driveway, the smooth, sleepy beat of that big 442 Plymouth engine almost like a trademark. It dripped steadily from one side of the board which lay across the arms of the wheelchair. He typed the words MISERY'S RETUR in the upper left-hand comer, the number I in the upper right.""Annie, would you say that cancer is something I have to worry about just now? he thought, but of course he knew what came next. I'm already wild to know what's going to happen next — don't tell me! Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Annie?

but he could only feel that dreamy, floating euphoria, and what she was saying did not seem nearly as important as the glorious quality of the strengthening light as the day hovered on the edge of becoming. By mid-March of 1982 there had been five nursery deaths in the Boulder Hospital. But the blue-ribbon winner (at least until Annie Wilkes had entered his life) had been Mrs Roman D. He put the book carefully back in its place arid began rolling the wheelchair toward the guest room. She bent down again and this time came up with a dark bottle and the box of matches. only her screams were becoming weird buzzing noises, and her body was rippling and humping and changing under her skirt and cardigan sweater, because Annie was changing into a bee. During the next three weeks, Paul Sheldon felt surrounded by a queer electric peacefulness. Giving the stairs only a brief glance (there were drips of ice-cream on some of the carpeted stair levels and glazey smears of it on the banister), Paul rolled down to the door. The top two or three layers of his conscious mind, which dealt with such things as when he had last shampooed, or whether or not Annie would be on time with his next dope allotment, seemed to have departed the scene entirely. Or at the end of Chapter 9, Fiery Doom, he'd be tied to a chair in a burning warehouse. "I weep for Mrs Krenmitz and her loss,»Crysilda Wilkes told a Journal reporter, "but I thank God for sparing my husband and my own two children. "That I asked him if he'd like to take along a cold Pepsi from the fridge because it was such a hot day. "the cop said, and walked slowly onto the lawn, his pierced back arched and his gut sticking out. Her complexion was still too pallid, but in her cheeks Ian could see the first signs of returning color. One correspondent dubbed her the Dragon Lady, and the name stuck for the duration of the trial. He understood — now, finally — that he was a bit of a dullard at doing this trick, but it was the only one he knew, and if he always ended up doing it ineptly, he at least never failed to do it with love. This by itself would not have put him in a state of near-terror — but he remembered coming to Calthorpe Manor the day after Misery's death. "And I'll say, "If Elvis Presley was still alive and you saw him last winter, would you remember seeing him? You caught it, no sweat, besides, there's a rug on the floor, probably wouldn't have broken anyway — But if it HAD! She brought the pages to him, put them on the board, and then stepped back quickly. She kept up a very good poker face when she wanted to, but he thought — hoped — that he had fooled her. And until he knew whether or not she was dead, he couldn't burn the house down, making a beacon that would bring help on the run.