Stephen King. (№ 414757)

The real horrors that we believe in, from the category of what Dostoevsky, Albee and MacDonald wrote about, are hatred, alienation, aging without love, entering an incomprehensible and hostile world with the uncertain gait of a young man. And in our everyday reality we often resemble a tragic-comedic mask, grinning from the outside and mournfully dropping the corners of the lips inside. Somewhere, of course, there is some central switching point, some transformer with wires that allows the two masks to be connected. And he is in the very place, in that corner of the soul, where horror stories fit so well.