Task 35; Tick

Just After Sunset by Stephen King

Just After Sunset reminded me of the BBC3 programme Being Human, a plot so predictable that you really don’t expect what actually happens to be so good. In my opinion, King avoided the traditional approach to a horror story which made it even more effective.
King reeled me in instantly because his character is so human. He layers his text with “simple curiosity”, feeding not only his main character with broken pieces of a mystery but the reader as well. He casually drops breadcrumbs for the readers to follow whilst concealing what really lies ahead with the humorous tone that hovers on the surface of his writing. Every time King drops a clue, another piece of the puzzle, he rewinds the story with the rhetorical questions and sarcastic “eye rolls”.

Tick

Dracula fell face down onto the floor – and then she woke up. The library was empty, her hands were freezing, and her book was drenched in thick saliva. What time was it? Late, the library was deserted. The chair legs peeled of a thin slice of wood as she pushed it backwards. Had she fallen asleep? The shiny table lamp flickered in agreement and readjusted its glow.

Droplets of rain continued to have fun sliding down the panes of glass whilst she picked up her bag and books. Was it too late to take them out? Probably not. Her black pumps looked worn down and tired and her feet protested as she made her way towards the front desk. The old caretaker had dimmed the lights completely even though it wasn’t late, and he’d started to switch off some of the overheads that lighted the way out and illuminated the more interesting sections of the library. What the heck, everything was interesting; it was a library. She was falling asleep already. The evening moonlight draped itself like a tablecloth on top of bookshelf after bookshelf, its hypnotic effect made her eyelids rise and fall.
She didn’t even notice the remaining lights turn off one, by one, by one.

There was an empty patch of moonlight behind the reception desk, maybe Mabel had left to get a cup of tea? She placed her books on the desk and reached for her student ID card in her back pocket.

Something fell. Dracula had made a thump but this was something heavier. She steadied her pile of books and listened to the beating coming from the inside of her eardrums. Nothing stirred. But the Espresso coffee machine downstairs did. She sighed.

She hears the scraping of wood coming from somewhere in the library. She freezes.
The one remaining light switches off. She doesn’t breathe.
Tick. Tock. She leans over the desk to call the caretaker.

Tick.
She finds Mabel.