Free Stephen King's N. by Stephen King, Marc Guggenheim, Alex Maleev

such a crush on.”
    “Charlie Keen,” I said. “I haven’t seen him in a dog’s age. Except on TV. The poor man’s Sanjay Gupta.”
    She whacked my arm. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, dear. Anyway, we were fishing from the bridge one day—you know, with those little poles we all had—and Charlie peered over the side and said, ‘You know, anyone who fell off this thing could not fail to kill themselves.’ It just struck us funny, and we laughed like maniacs. You don’t remember that?”
    But then I did. Bale Road Bridge became Fail Road Bridge from that day on. And what old Charlie said was true enough. Bale Stream is very shallow at that point. Of course it flows into the Androscoggin (probably you can see the merging-point from Ackerman’s Field, although I never noticed), which is a lot deeper. And the Androscoggin flows to the sea. World leads onto world, doesn’t it? Each deeper than the last; this is a design all the earth proclaims.
    Don and Seth came back in, Sheila’s big guy and her little guy, all dusted with snow. We had a group hug, very New Age, and then I drove home listening to Christmas carols. Really happy for the first time in ever so long.
    I believe these notes…this diary…this chronicle of madness avoided (perhaps by bare inches, I think I really did almost “go over the bridge”)…can end now.
    Thank God, and merry Christmas to me.
    April 1, 2008
    It’s April Fool’s, and the fool is me. I woke from a dream of Ackerman’s Field.
    In it the sky was blue, the river was a darker blue in its valley, the snow was melting, the first green grass was poking through the remaining ribbons of white, and once more there were only seven stones. Once more there was darkness in the circle. Only a smudge for now, but it will deepen unless I take care of it.
    I counted books after waking (sixty-four, a good number, even and divisible all the way down to 1—think about it), and when that didn’t turn the trick I spilled coffee onto the kitchen counter and made a diagonal. That fixed things—for now—but I will have to go out there and make another “house call.” Must not dither-dather.
    Because it’s starting again.
    The snow is almost gone, the summer solstice is approaching (still over the horizon but approaching), and it has started again.
    I feel
    God help me, I feel like a cancer patient who has been in remission and wakes one morning to discover a big fat lump in his armpit.
    I can’t do this.
    I must do this.
    [Later]
    There was still snow on the road, but I got up to “AF” all right. Left my car in the cemetery parking lot and walked. There were indeed only seven stones, as in my dream. Looked thru the viewfinder of my camera. 8 again. 8 is fate and keeps the world strait. Good deal.
    For the world!
    Not such a good deal for Dr. Bonsaint.
    That this should be happening again; my mind groans at the prospect.
    Please God don’t let it be happening again.
    April 6, 2008
    Took longer today to make 7 into 8, and I know I have much “long distance” work ahead of me, i.e. counting things and making diagonals and—not placing, N. was wrong about that—it’s balancing that needs to be done. It’s simbolic, like the break and whine in communion.
    I’m tired, though. And the solstitch is so far away.
    Its still gathering its power and the solstit is so far away.
    I wish N. had dyed before coming into my office. That selfish bastyard.
    May 2, 2008
    I thought it would kill me this time. Or break my mind. Is my mind broken? My God how can I tell? There is no God, there can be no God in the face of that darkness, and the EYE that peers from it. And something else.
    THE THING WITH THE HELMET HEAD. BORN OUT OF LIVING UNSANE DARKNESS.
    There was chanting. Chanting from deep inside the ringstones, deep inside the darkness. But I made 7 into 8 once again, although it took a long long long lung long time. Many loox thru the vufinder, also making circles and counting paces, widening the circle to 64 paces and that did it, thank god.