It’s Stephen King’s birthday. Now, I’m not going to blow smoke and proclaim “HE’S MY FAVORITE EVER” but I’d be bullshitting you if I said he hasn’t made an impact on me.
Because I was born in 1980, I never knew a world of horror that DIDN’T include Stephen King. And I was a pretty early reader. I was probably five or six when I took my parent’s mass market paperback of Night Shift to the storage room in our basement. It was as secluded as you could get in a tiny 1950’s ranch-style house. And I read. And those stories were creepy, for sure.
But holy shit did “The Boogeyman” totally wreck me.