I'm pretty sure that H.P. Lovecraft, creator of the evil book Necronomicon and the Cthulhu mythos, actually saw into another world. As I read his books, I feel myself being drawn into that world, and I fear that I might not escape. Such is the power of Lovecraft's imagery. His character's are amazingly real and often irredeemable bastards. Going by his books, you definitely get the impression that H.P. was qute the racist. Many books I've read from that period express similar sentiments. It's often hard to deal with such things. I've known people I've thought to be good and decent, but have hatred or fear of people of other backgrounds. I've been told to hate the sin, not the sinner. And that's what I try to do.
I was about 8 or 9 when I was introduced to Stephen King. A copy of Night Shift was on a neighbour's sofa and the cover intrigued me: a bandaged hand with eyes peering from every finger. I decided to pick it up and started reading. I liked several stories, but one particular story sticks with me even to this day - the story of Lester Billings and the mystery of his three children's untimely deaths. Each death followed by a closet door slightly ajar... I still can't stand to have doors that are just slightly ajar. And I still don't like dangling my feet over the edge of the bed. Mr. King, I salute you! You did your job well! 30 years of nightmares! and I love each and every one of 'em!
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