You Like It Darker

by Stephen King

He considered this, then looked out the window at the steady rain. Nothing is colder than cold November rain. It crossed my mind that someone should write a song about it… and eventually, someone did.

My mother had a saying, Only snooping is lower than gossip, but my father liked to tease her with another one: Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.

Those first pages were written when I was thirty. I finished it when I was seventy-five. While working on it, I had the oddest sense of calling into a canyon of time and listening for the echo to come back. Does that even make sense? I don’t know. I just know it’s how I felt.

Great thanks to you, dear readers, for allowing me to inhabit your imaginations and your nerve-endings. You like it darker? Fine. So do I, and that makes me your soul brother.