In the Tall Grass

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Cuando tocas la roca (o la abrazas, da igual), puedes ver. Sabes un montón de cosas más. Pero también te da más hambre.

No pude evitar pensar en Jeepers Creepers durante las primeras paginas. Por el hecho de ser dos hermanos en la carretera, por la locación, la iglesia. Y tras eso es inevitable no pensar en "los chicos del maíz", entre algunas otras historias de S.K. Y sospecho que hay detalles y referencias que solo pueden apreciar los que hayan leído toda la saga de la Torre OscuraDrops of dew burned in the grass, a hundred miniature magnifying glasses refracting and intensifying the light. At first she didn’t know where she was going. It was hard to think past the pain in her abdomen, which came in waves. Sometimes it was a dull throb, the soreness of overworked muscles; other times it would intensify without warning into a sharp, somehow watery pain that lanced her through the bowels, and burned in her crotch. Her face was hot and feverish and even driving with the windows down didn’t cool her off. Or vicey-versa,” Mr. DeMuth said—also with a sigh. (Sometimes married couples are also Irish Twins.)

Just lately the twenty-first-century Pranksters had been in Cawker City, paying homage to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine. Since leaving, they had busted mega-amounts of dope, and all of them were hungry. A part of him—a part he had been trying with all his will to ignore—already knew what he was going to see. This part had been providing an almost jovial running commentary: Everything will have moved, Cal, good buddy. The grass flows and you flow too. Think of it as becoming one with nature, bro. His foot caught on something, and he went down knee-first into an inch of swampy water. Hot water—not lukewarm, hot, as hot as bathwater—splashed up onto the crotch of his shorts, providing him with the sensation of having just pissed himself. Without giving too much away the story itself is chilling and bloody in equal measure, the tension building to an almost inevitably bloody conclusion that ends on a suitably downbeat note. In The Tall Grass is an engaging and absorbing read that exhibits the best of both its authors, drawing the reader in before delivering a swift blow to the gut that will leave them reeling. Once people pass the grass, nothing makes sense. Time becomes irrelevant, and what they see gradually becomes horrifying. The film appears to take some of its own distinct paths, touching upon the source material while establishing some new ideas too.There was plenty to like in this story and I do enjoy the writing of Stephen King but I struggle to give it any more than a 3.5 rating.

Thanks, doc, I’ll—” Nothing. Then she began screaming. “Get away from me! Get away! DON’T TOUCH ME!” Cal, as always, spoke as if he had a direct line to her private thoughts. “Aren’t you the little Mother Mary? Wonder when the wise men will show up! Wonder what gifts they’ll have for us!” His throat felt dry and tight and swallowing took an effort. Although it was close to two in the afternoon, the sun seemed to hover almost directly overhead. He could feel it on his scalp, and the tops of his ears, which were tender, beginning to burn. He thought if he could just have something to drink—a cold swallow of spring water, or one of their Cokes—he might not feel so frayed, so anxious.

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Obviously I can’t tell you what lies beyond the “tall grass,” but I can tell you that it’s easily the most disturbing short I’ve ever (or probably will ever read) and it’s not for the timid . . . or the weak-stomached. It made Michael’s little “experience” with the worms and maggots in one of my faves look like child’s play . . .