Just After Sunset by Stephen King - A stunning collection from international bestseller Stephen King that displays his phenomenally broad readership ( stories. Just After Sunset is the fifth collection of short stories by Stephen King. It was released in . Print/export. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version . Just After Sunset: Stories [Stephen King] on caite.info *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. The classic short story collection from the #1 New York Times.
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Just After Sunset: Stories. Home · Just After Sunset: Stories Author: King Stephen Just After Sunset: Stories · Read more. Just After Sunset Stephen King Read Download PDF/Audiobook. File Name: Just After Sunset Stephen King Total Downloads: Formats: djvu | pdf | epub. Read Just After Sunset by Stephen King for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android.
David considered putting his five back in his wallet, then leaned into the ticket booth and dropped it on the desk in there, which was bare except for a pack of Lucky Strikes sitting on a Danielle Steel paperback. No Yes. It might be that when the world of the full-time novelist shrinks to below, say, seventy thousand words, a kind of creative claustrophobia sets in. Few people came to places like Crowheart Springs, Wyoming on purpose. A busboy had come from somewhere and was helping the waitress mop up the mess. Thank you for signing up, fellow book lover!
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Deleting comment This comment has been deleted. And now, let me get out of your way. But before I go, I want to thank you for coming. Yes, indeed I would. Because it makes me happy when the words fall together and the picture comes and the make-believe people do things that delight me. And as the dregs of sunset faded to bitter orange over the Wind River Range, David looked around the station and saw that Willa was gone.
He went to find Lander, who liked her a bit.
Who called her spunky when Willa said Amtrak was full of shit for leaving them stranded like this. It smells like wet crackers in here! Helen Palmer shouted at him as David walked past. She had found her way to the bench in the corner, as she always did, eventually. The Rhinehart woman was minding her for the time being, giving the husband a little break, and she gave David a smile.
We got fish for supper! Palmer burst out furiously. A knuckle of blue veins beat in the hollow of her temple. A few people looked around. Hush, Helen, the Rhinehart woman said. Maybe her first name was Sally, but David thought he would have remembered a name like that; there were so few Sallys these days.
Now the world belonged to the Ambers, Ashleys, and Tiffanys. Willa was another endangered species, and just thinking that made his stomach sink down again. Henry Lander was sitting on a bench under the clock. He had his arm around his wife. He glanced up and shook his head before David could ask.
And he made a hitchhiking gesture.
Had known even before counting heads, actually, and a snatch of some old book or poem about winter occurred to him: A cry of absence, absence in the heart. The station was a narrow wooden throat. Down its length, people either strolled aimlessly or simply sat on benches under the fluorescent lights. The shoulders of the ones who sat had that special slump you saw only in places like this, where people waited for whatever had gone wrong to be made right so the broken journey could be mended.
Few people came to places like Crowheart Springs, Wyoming on purpose.
Not just coyotes, either. That book salesman with the limp says he saw a couple of wolves on the other side of the tracks, where the freight depot is. Ripper, Ruth said. She went while it was still daylight, Henry Lander said, as if daylight would stop a wolf or a bear from attacking a woman on her own. For all David knew, it might. He was an investment banker, not a wildlife expert. A young investment banker, at that. Henry raised his eyebrows.
Are you telling me that both of you missing it will improve things somehow? Surely Henry and Ruth Lander saw that. Or maybe not. What David mostly saw when he looked at them—what was right in front of his eyes—was that special weariness reserved for people temporarily stuck in West Overalls. And who else cared for Willa? If she dropped out of sight in the High Plains, who besides David Sanderson would spare a thought?
There was even some active dislike for her. Dudley was walking by. He was ordinarily very quiet, so the donkey heehaw of laughter he expelled into the growing shadows was beyond surprising; it was shocking. If the train comes and you miss it, he said, you can hunt up a justice of the peace and get married right here. When you get back east, tell all your friends you had a real Western shotgun wedding. Yeehaw, partner. He walked on before Lander or his wife could reply.
Georgia Andreeson was sitting on a nearby bench and watching her daughter caper up and down the dirty tile floor in her red traveling dress. Pammy Andreeson never seemed to get tired. But that might be a false memory, created out of his belief that five-year-olds were supposed to sleep a lot. Pammy hopped from tile to tile, a prank in motion, seeming to use the squares as a giant hopscotch board.
Her red dress jumped around her plump knees. I knew a man, his name was Danny, she chanted in a monotonous one-note holler. He tripped and fell, on his fanny. I knew a man, his name was David. He tripped and fell, on his bavid.
She giggled and pointed at David. Pammy, stop, Georgia Andreeson said. She smiled at David and brushed her hair from the side of her face. He thought the gesture unutterably weary, and thought she had a long road ahead with the high-spirited Pammy, especially with no Mr.
Andreeson in evidence. Here was Biggers, limping toward him. There are wolves. I knew a girl, her name was Willa, Pammy chanted. She had a headache, and took a pilla. She collapsed to the floor, shouting with laughter. He was limping back down the length of the station. His shadow grew long, shortened in the glow of the hanging fluorescents, then grew long again. Phil Palmer was leaning in the doorway beneath the sign about the shuttle and the taxis. He was a retired insurance man.
He and his wife were on their way to Portland. The plan was to stay with their oldest son and his wife for a while, but Palmer had confided to David and Willa that Helen would probably never be coming back east. Willa called it a twofer. When David told her that was a little cruel, Willa had looked at him, started to say something, and then had only shaken her head. As David stepped out onto the concrete platform where detraining passengers waited for the shuttle to Crowheart Springs, Palmer frowned.
Not a good idea, my young friend. A second voice joined it, creating harmony. They trailed off together. See what I mean, jellybean? David turned, his light jacket rippling around him in the keen breeze, and started down the steps.
He went fast, before he could change his mind, and only the first step was really hard. After that he just thought about Willa. Why not? She did.
Besides, the wolves are over there. He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. You think? Willa had said so. Finally he turned back to look at Phil Palmer leaning in the doorway above him. Palmer sighed. I almost hope one of those trash-pine lobos does decide to put the bite on your city ass. It might smarten you up. Little Willa Stuart cares for nobody but herself, and everyone sees it but you.
If I pass a Nite Owl store or a 7-Eleven, you want me to pick you up a pack of cigarettes? Why the fuck not? Palmer said. Says so, right on the back wall of the information booth. On foot. David raised his hand to indicate he heard, but kept going. The wind was off the mountains, and cold, but he liked the way it rippled his clothes and combed back his hair.
At first he watched for wolves, scanning one side of the road and then the other, but when he saw none, his thoughts returned to Willa. And really, his mind had been fixed on little else since the second or third time he had been with her. Night came on and the stars unrolled across the sky from east to west like a rug with spangles in it. A half-moon rose between two peaks and sat there, casting a sickroom glow over this stretch of the highway and the open land on both sides of it.
The wind whistled beneath the eaves of the station, but out here it made a strange open humming that was not quite a vibration. He walked listening for the sound of an oncoming train behind him.
He turned and saw a wolf standing about twenty paces behind him on the broken passing line of Route It was almost as big as a calf, its coat as shaggy as a Russian hat. In the starshine its fur looked black, its eyes a dark urine yellow.
It saw David looking and stopped. Its mouth dropped open in a grin, and it began to pant, the sound of a small engine. There was no time to be afraid. He took a step toward it, clapped his hands, and shouted, Get out of here! Go on, now! The wolf turned tail and fled, leaving a pile of steaming droppings behind on Route David grinned but managed to keep from laughing out loud; he thought that would be tempting the gods.
He felt both scared and absurdly, totally cool. He thought of changing his name from David Sanderson to Wolf Frightener. That would be quite the name for an investment banker.
King planned to begin writing a new novel, but after he was asked to edit The Best American Short Stories , he was inspired to write short stories instead. Upon King's request, a limited edition was released, along with the regular version, featuring a DVD collection of the 25 episodes of the online animated series based on N. It also mentions the fictional town of Chester's Mill, which is the setting of his later novel Under the Dome.
A clipping from the Chester's Mill local paper, the editor of which is a major character in Under the Dome , is part of the nested narrative. In part two of this story, the main character recounts how his wife and her lover, "Cowboy Bob," had gone up to Derry and spent a couple of days at a place called Hollywood Slots. The town of Derry, Maine is the setting of King's novel It and many of his other novels and stories. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Just After Sunset First edition cover.
Retrieved Exclusive interview: MySpace Comic Books. Archived from the original Interview on Novels portal.