otp: nightmares and dreamscapes

The stories in Nightmares and Dreamscapes are, for the most part, the sort that critics categorize (and then all too often dismiss, alas) as horror stories, and the horror story is supposed to be a kind of evil-tempered junkyard dog that will bite you if you get too close. This one bites, I think. Am I going to apologize for that? Do you think I should? Isn’t that—the risk of being bitten—one of the reasons you picked this book up in the first place? I think so. And if you get to thinking of me as your kindly old Uncle Stevie, a sort of end-of-the-century Rod Serling, I will try even harder to bite you. To put it another way, I want you to be a little bit afraid every time you step into my parlor. I want you unsure about how far I’ll go, or what I’ll do next.
—  Stephen King, Notes for “Dedication”, a story from Nightmares and Dreamscapes
When I was a kid I believed everything I was told, everything I read, and every dispatch sent out by my own overheated imagination. This made for more than a few sleepless nights, but it also filled the world I lived in with colors and textures I would not have traded for a lifetime of restful nights.
—  Stephen King, Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Stephen King will release a short story collection titled The Bazaar of Bad Dreams on November 3 via Scribner Publishing. It marks the prolific author’s sixth collection of short stories.

The 512-page book features 20 stories, three of which are brand new. (Most of the others have previously appeared in magazines or eBooks.) Each passage is accompanied by an introduction in which King discusses its origins.

Read on for the table of contents and synopsis.

Keep reading

I know that some of these things… are a little frightening, but I think we’ll be all right if we go together. First, repeat the catechism after me:
I believe a dime can derail a freight-train.
I believe there are alligators in the New York City sewer system, not to mention rats as big as shetland ponies.
I believe you can tear off someone’s shadow with a steel tent-peg.
I believe that there really is a Santa Claus, and that all those red-suited guys you see at Christmastime really are his helpers.
I believe there is an unseen world all around us.
I believe that tennis balls are full of poison gas, and if you cut one in two and breathe what comes out, it’ll kill you.
Most of all, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks.
Okay? Ready? Fine. Here’s my hand. We’re going now. I know the way. All you have to do is hold on tight… and believe.
—  Stephen King, Introduction to Nightmares and Dreamscapes
When I was a kid I believed everything I was told, everything I read, and every dispatch sent out by my own overheated imagination. This made for more than a few sleepless nights, but it also filled the world I lived in with colors and textures I would not have traded for a lifetime of restful nights.
—  Stephen King, Nightmares And Dreamscapes
These days it seems that everything wants to be a novel, and every novel wants to be approximately four thousand pages long. I have been accused of overwriting. In some cases the criticisms have merit; in others there are just the ill-tempered yappings of men and women who have accepted the literary anorexia of the last thirty years with a puzzling (to me, at least) lack of discussion and dissent.
—  Stephen King. “Nightmares and Dreamscapes” Introduction.
All right. Last time. Heart beating so fast I can hardly breeve. The new graph, the last graph, really only whammed you when it was laid over the calmquake graft. The calmquake graff showed ax of vilence going down as you approached La Plata in the muddle; the Alzheimer’s graff showed incidence of premature seenullity going up as you approached La Plata. People there were getting very silly very yung. Me and Bobo were careful as we could be for the next three years, drink only Parrier Water and wor big long sleekers in the ran. so no war and when everybobby started to get seely we din and I came back here because he my brother I cant remember what his name Bobby Bobby when he came here tonight cryeen and I sed Bobby I luv you Bobby sed Ime sorry Bowwow Ime sorry I made the hole world ful of foals and dumbbels and I sed better fouls and bells than a big black sinder in spaz and he cryed and I cryed Bobby I luv you and he sed will you give me a shot of the spacial wadder and I sed yez and he said wil you ride it down and I sed yez an I think I did but I cant reely remember I see wurds but dont no what they mean I have a Bobby his nayme is bruther and I theen I an dun riding and I have a bocks to put this into thats Bobby sd full of quiyet air to last a milyun yrz so gudboy gudboy everybrother, Im goin to stob gudboy bobby i love you it wuz not yor falt i love you
forgivyu
love yu
sinned (for the wurld),
Bowwow Fornoy
—  Nightmares & Dreamscapes/The End of the Whole Mess