Go read a Stephen King book right now.

It's been far too long since I've picked up a Stephen King book.

So after I finished Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," I decided it was time to reunite with my old friend.

So I plucked "It" off of the bookshelf, started reading page one (of 1,093), and it was like being reunited with a long, lost lover.

That man can string words together like pearls. I don't care if he's writing about scabby aliens drinking milkshakes---it's beautiful. 

He knows just what to elaborate on and just what to leave to the imagination.

One of my favorite books of all time is "The Stand." In fact, that's the first King book I read. I followed the characters across the U.S from my bed. While on an airplane over the Pacific, my throat clogged and I choked with Captain Trips as everyone's fathers and babies did the same. I built my army against Randall Flag from a beach chair in Hawaii. I even used the book in my senior writing class as a literary reference.

In college, my apartment was visited by the Tommyknockers. I visited the Pet Semetary* from my dorm. And I went on countless other adventures with King while I visited my parents.

Every tale is flawless. Perfectly constructed carefully and deliberately. A King book's thickness isn't as intimidating as it is attractive---the longer the book, the longer I can live in this fantasy world.

Now by night, I find myself watching the lives of frightened adults keeping a promise to return to the terror of their childhood town. Where Tim Curry waits in full makeup and floppy shoes. Where IT lives.

And as freaked as I am of clowns and spiders, I'll read until the very last punctuation mark. Because although I might have to turn on every light in the apartment in order to feel safe, I won't be able to put this book down. It's just too pretty.

*The last paragraph of this book is the absolute, living END.