My old man returned to his hometown, and I was supposed to be happy to be tagged along. There was something familiar about the Maine countryside. I read it somewhere, and it gave me the creeps. We studied Stephen King a year ago, and one of my coursemates had an outrageous idea. The author's works could allude to the political scene in the US during the 1970s. It wasn't hard to imagine politicians as blood-sucking creatures and the sentiment hardly changed decades later. But he may have a point. The vampire folklore seemed out of place in the American popular culture. It would be synonymous to the Old World. Anne Rice would fancy it.
Stephen King, a native of Maine, imagined a remote countryside cursed by the powers-to-be. There might be a mysterious worm, which would terrify inhabitants. Dad was interested in folklore, and I learned that the worm could be a malevolent figure. The place was about to recover from the dark years when a well-to-do stranger arrived on the East Coast. He traveled from one end of the Atlantic to the other. He was mum about the death of some passengers, and how his client preferred the night time.
I wouldn't know that Maine could be a harbinger of doom. The idyllic existence could be seen in the grassy plains, seaside gardens, and a solitary barn house every few kilometers. The road seemed endless, which didn't seem promising at all. And then a moose crossed the road. It was a good thing that my father had the reflex and presence of mind to step on the brake pedal immediately. I was at a loss when he mentioned "Northern Exposure".
What becomes of the possessed?
I might be wrong, as Maine could be the site of an unusual settlement. The residents would come out at night time, where they flocked to the town pub. They wanted human blood, as they were about to get sick and tired of animal blood. And then an unwitting victim came along. He wanted to have an entire control of his inheritance, unmindful that her half-sister had reasons why she didn't get in touch with the family for years. But this was the image of a Hammer Production. I would still recall every detail after many years, and my hunch wasn't far from a mistake.
I wondered why vampires didn't lose their appeal all these decades. They were reminders of the colonial past, and their presence would hardly cause a ripple unless they could have their own reality TV show. And they could be more lurid than the Kardashian siblings. I was jolted when my old man reminded me of what we came for. There would be. I saw patches of red and orange, which surprised me. It seemed too early for autumn. Then again, stranger things have happened in King's stories. And I nearly forgot to take pictures.
I heard Dad call my name. He told me to stop right there while I recalled my active years in gymnastics.
