Misery (25 page)

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Authors: Stephen King

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Misery
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     Mrs. Soames ra
n
shrieki
n
g from the cemetery, ra
n
all the way i
n
to Storpi
n
g's high street -- a ru
n
of
n
early a mile a
n
d a quarter -- a
n
d reported her
n
ews to the barber, who was also the local co
n
stable. The
n
she had collapsed i
n
a dead fai
n
t. She took to her bed later that after
n
oo
n
a
n
d did
n
ot arise from it for
n
early a mo
n
th.
N
or did a
n
yo
n
e i
n
the village blame her i
n
the least.
     The body of the u
n
fortu
n
ate Miss Evely
n
-Hyde had bee
n
exhumed, of course, a
n
d as Geoffrey Alliburto
n
drew Mary to a halt i
n
fro
n
t of the gate leadi
n
g i
n
to Little Du
n
thorpe's C of E churchyard, Mrs. Ramage fou
n
d herself wishi
n
g ferve
n
tly that she had
n
ot liste
n
ed to the tales of the exhumatio
n
. They had bee
n
dreadful.
     Dr. Billford, shake
n
to withi
n
a
n
i
n
ch of sa
n
ity himself, diag
n
osed catalepsy. The poor woma
n
had appare
n
tly falle
n
i
n
to some sort of deathlike tra
n
ce, much like the sort those I
n
dia
n
fakirs could volu
n
tarily i
n
duce i
n
themselves before allowi
n
g themselves to be buried alive or to have
n
eedles passed through their flesh. She had remai
n
ed i
n
this tra
n
ce for perhaps forty-eight hours, perhaps sixty. Lo
n
g e
n
ough, at a
n
y rate, to have awake
n
ed
n
ot to fi
n
d herself o
n
her back law
n
where she had bee
n
picki
n
g flowers, but buried alive i
n
her ow
n
coffi
n
.
     She had fought grimly for her life, that girl, a
n
d Mrs. Ramage fou
n
d
n
ow, followi
n
g Geoffrey through the gates a
n
d i
n
to a thi
n
mist that tur
n
ed the lea
n
i
n
g grave markers i
n
to isla
n
ds, that what should have redeemed with
n
obility o
n
ly
made it seem all the more horrid.
      The girl had bee
n
e
n
gaged to be married. I
n
her left ha
n
d --
n
ot the o
n
e froze
n
above the soil like the ha
n
d of a drow
n
ed woma
n
-- had bee
n
her diamo
n
d e
n
gageme
n
t ri
n
g. With it she had slit the sati
n
li
n
i
n
g of her coffi
n
a
n
d over God k
n
ew how ma
n
y hours she had used it to claw away at the coffi
n
's woode
n
lid. I
n
the e
n
d, air ru
nn
i
n
g out, she had appare
n
tly used the ri
n
g with her left ha
n
d to cut a
n
d excavate a
n
d her right ha
n
d to dig. It had
n
ot bee
n
quite e
n
ough. Her complexio
n
had bee
n
a deep purple from which her blood-rimmed eyes stared i
n
a bulgi
n
g expressio
n
of termi
n
al horror.
      The clock i
n
the church tower bega
n
to chime the hour of twelve -- the hour whe
n
, her mother had told her, the door betwee
n
life a
n
d death sways ope
n
a bit a
n
d the dead may pass both ways -- a
n
d it was all Mrs. Ramage could do to keep herself from shrieki
n
g a
n
d fleei
n
g i
n
a pa
n
ic which would
n
ot abate but grow stro
n
ger with each step; if she bega
n
ru
nn
i
n
g, she k
n
ew, she would simply ru
n
u
n
til she fell dow
n
i
n
se
n
sible.
Stupid, fearful woma
n
! she berated herself, a
n
d the
n
ame
n
ded that to: Stupid, fearful, selfish woma
n
! It's My Lord ye wa
n
t to be thi
n
ki
n
' of
n
ow, a
n
d
n
ot yer ow
n
fears My Lord . . . a
n
d if there is eve
n
o
n
e cha
n
ce that My Lady --
     Ah, but
n
o -- it was mad
n
ess to eve
n
thi
n
k of such a thi
n
g. It had bee
n
too lo
n
g, too lo
n
g, too lo
n
g.
      Geoffrey had led her to Misery's tombsto
n
e, a
n
d the two of them stood looki
n
g dow
n
at it, as if mesmerized. LADY CALTHORPE, the sto
n
e read. Other tha
n
the dates of her birth a
n
d death, the o
n
ly i
n
scriptio
n
was: LOVED BY MA
N
Y.
      She looked at Geoffrey a
n
d said, like o
n
e awake
n
i
n
g from a deep daze: "Ye've
n
ot brought the tools."
     "
N
o --
n
ot yet," he respo
n
ded, a
n
d threw himself full-le
n
gth o
n
the grou
n
d a
n
d placed his ear agai
n
st the earth, which had already begu
n
to show the first te
n
der shoots of
n
ew grass betwee
n
the rather carelessly replaced sods.
     For a mome
n
t the o
n
ly expressio
n
she saw there by the lamp she carried was the o
n
e Geoffrey had wor
n
si
n
ce she had first ope
n
ed her door to him -- a look of ago
n
ized dread. The
n
a
n
ew expressio
n
bega
n
to surface. This
n
ew expressio
n
was o
n
e of utter horror mi
n
gled with a
n
almost deme
n
ted hope.
     He looked up at Mrs. Ramage, eyes stari
n
g, mouth worki
n
g. "I believe she lives," he whispered stre
n
gthlessly. "Oh, Mrs. Ramage -- "
     Sudde
n
ly he tur
n
ed over o
n
to his belly a
n
d screamed at the grou
n
d -- u
n
der other circumsta
n
ces it would have bee
n
comic. "Misery! MISERY! WE'RE HERE! WE K
N
OW! HOLD O
N
! HOLD O
N
, MY DARLI
N
G!"

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