By Stephen King
In diesem atmosphärisch ungeheuer dichten Roman schildert Stephen King, der weltweit als "Edgar Allan Poe der Gegenwart" gefeiert wird, den uralten mythischen Kampf zwischen intestine und Böse. Die Gemeinschaft der Freunde kann "es" töten, weil ihre Freundschaft und Liebe zueinander stärker ist als die Gewalt des Bösen.
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The perfume of dead schoolgirls. Spyder thought of his room in high school. He'd had a poster on the wall, a parody of the kind of out-of-date Civil Defense instructions they used to give kids in case of nuclear attack. The last line had read: Put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Spyder vomited on the mugger's arm. The puke seemed to have some kind of mysterious juju power because at that moment the mugger's head sheered off and rolled to the alley floor. His body, which still had a solid grip on Spyder's collar, followed a second or two later.
At the door Spyder heard Bilal yell, "An OD! You're going to OD! " Eleven The Voice of the Sphinx Spyder wondered what time it was. He was in another cab and doing his best to ignore the chatty driver. It pained Spyder that he hadn't ridden his bike that morning. Without the bike, he always felt tied up and weighed down. Ever since he could ride, Spyder had always had a motorcycle of some kind. "You never know when you're going to need to get the hell out of Dodge," he told friends. " He told the driver to pull over.
You can't have her," said Spyder. "But from what she told me, you don't care about that. " "Accounts must be balanced. This is our burden," said the one on the right. " said the one on the left. Spyder nodded, still trying to parse their odd, singsong speech. " shouted Lulu. The middle banker said, "You owe us nothing. " "No. . " Spyder asked. " "Okay then. It's a deal. I'll see you down the fucking road. The door is that way. " "There is no deal yet," said the middle banker. He stepped forward and grabbed Spyder's arm with shocking speed and strength.