Uncollected Stories 2003

'He hung himself in the garage, Mr. Clewson.'

'Christ Jesus,' Dale muttered. He shut his eyes very tightly, trying to ward off the image. He got one which was arguably even worse – that smiling face, the open fatigue shirt, the twisted dog-tags. 'I'm sorry.'

'He didn't want people to know why he wasn't with the others that day, but of course the story got out.' A long, meditative pause from Bortman's end. 'Stories like that always do.'

'Yes. I suppose they do.'

'Joshua didn't have many friends when he was growing up, Mr.

Clewson. I don't think he had any real friends until he got to Nam. He loved your son, and the others.'

Now it's him. comforting me.

'I'm sorry for your loss’' Dale said. 'And sorry to have bothered you at a time like this. But you'll understand…I had to.'

'Yes. Is he smiling, Mr. Clewson? The others...they said he was smiling.'

Dale looked toward the picture beside the ticking clock. 'He's smiling.'

'Of course he is. Josh finally caught up with them.'

Dale looked out the window toward the sidewalk where Billy had once ridden a bike with training wheels. He supposed he should say something, but he couldn't seem to think of a thing. His stomach hurt.

His bones were cold.

'I ought to go, Mr. Clewson. In case my wife wakes up.' He paused.

'I think I'll take the phone off the hook.'

'That might not be a bad idea.'

'Goodbye, Mr. Clewson.'

102

'Goodbye. Once again, my sympathies.'

'And mine, too.'

Click.

Dale crossed the room and picked up the photograph of Squad D. He looked at the smiling blonde boy, who was sitting cross-legged in front of Kimberley and Gibson, sitting casually and comfortably on the ground as if he had never had a haemorrhoid in his life, as if he had never stood atop a stepladder in a shadowy garage and slipped a noose around his neck.

Josh finally caught up with them.

He stood looking fixedly at the photograph for a long time before realizing that the depth of silence in the room had deepened. The clock had stopped.

103

THE KING FAMILY & THE

WICKED WITCH

Illustrated by King's children

Flint Magazine, Kansas (1978)

EDITOR'S NOTE:

Stephen King and I went to college together. No, we were not the best of friends, but we did share a few brews together at University Motor Inn. We did work for the school newspaper at the same time. No, Steve and I are not best friends. But I sure am glad he made it. He worked hard and believed in himself. After eight million book sales, it's hard to remember him as a typically broke student. We all knew he'd make it through.

Last January I wrote of a visit with Steve over the holiday vacation. We talked about his books, Carrie, Salems Lot, The Shin ing, and the soon to be released The Stand. We talked about how Stanley Kubrick wanted to do the film version of his new book. We didn't talk about the past much though. We talked of the future, his kids, Flint ...

He gave me a copy of a story he had written for his children. We almost ran it then, but there was much concern on the staff as to how it would be received by our readers. We didn't run it. Well, we've debated long enough. It's too cute for you not to read it. We made the final decision after spending in evening watching TV last week. There were at least 57 more offensive things said, not to mention all the murders, rapes, and wars...we decided to let you be the judge. If some of you parents might be offended by the word 'fart', you'd better not read it – but don't stop your kids, they'll love it!

On the Secret Road in the town of Bridgton, there lived a wicked witch. Her name was Witch Hazel.

How wicked was Witch Hazel? Well, once she had changed a Prince from the Kingdom of New Hampshire into a woodchuck. She turned a little kid's favorite kitty into whipped cream. And she liked to turn mommies' baby carriages into big piles of horse-turds while the mommies and their babies were shopping.

She was a mean old witch.

The King family lived by Long Lake in Bridgton, Maine. They were nice people.

There was a Daddy who wrote books. There was a Mommy who wrote poems and cooked food. There was a girl named Naomi who was 104

six years old. She went to school. She was tall and straight and brown.

There was a boy named Joe who was four years old. He went to school too, although he only went two days a week. He was short and blonde with hazel eyes.

And Witch Hazel hated the Kings more than anyone else in Bridgton.

Witch Hazel especially hated the Kings because they were the happiest family in Bridgton. She would peer out at their bright red Cadillac when it passed her dirty, falling down haunted house with mean hateful eyes.

Witch Hazel hated bright colors.

She would see the Mommy reading Joe a story on the bench outside the drug store and her bony fingers would itch to cast a spell. She would see the Daddy talking to Naomi on their way home from school in the red Cadillac or