Misery by Stephen King

for those dirty-birdie Roydmans, of course, and Annie probably wouldn't take a plate of pork chops from them if she was dying of starvation). The driveway was neatly plowed, a testament to the fact that she did indeed use the blade, but he could not see the road — the house cut off the view.
      'I see you're admiring my barn, Paul.'
      He looked around, startled. The quick and uncalculated movement awoke his pain from its doze. It snarled dully in what remained of his shins and in the bunched salt-dome that had replaced his left knee. It turned over, needling him from where it lay imprisoned in its cave of bones, and then fell lightly asleep again.
       She had food on a tray. Soft food, invalid food . . . but his stomach growled at the sight of it. As she crossed to him he saw that she was wearing white shoes with crepe soles.
    'Yes,' he said. 'It's very handsome.'
       She put the board on the arms of the wheelchair and then put the tray on the board. She pulled a chair over beside him and sat down, watching him as he began to eat.
    'Fiddle-de-foof! Handsome is as handsome does, my mother always said. I keep it nice because if I didn't, the neighbors would yap. They are always looking for a way to get at me, or start a rumor about me. So I keep everything nice. Keeping up appearances is very, very important. As far as the barn goes, it really isn't much work, as long as you don't let things pile up. Keeping the snow from breaking in the roof is the oogiest part.'
       The oogiest part, he thought. Save that one for the Annie Wilkes lexicon in your memoirs — if you ever get a chance to write your memoirs, that is. Along with dirty birdie and fiddle-de-foof and all the others which I'm sure will come up in time.
       'Two years ago I had Billy Haversham put heat-tapes in the roof. You throw a switch and they get hot and melt the ice. I won't need them much longer this winter, though see how it's melting on its own?'
      He had a forkful of egg halfway to his mouth . It stopped in midair as he looked out at the barn. There was a row of icicles along the cave. The tips of these icicles were dripping — dripping fast. Each drop sparkled as it fell onto a narrow canal of ice which lay at the base of the barn's side.
       'It's up to forty-five degrees and it's not even nine o'clock!' Annie was going on gaily as Paul imagined the rear bumper of his Camaro surfacing through the rotted snow for the sun to twinkle on. 'Of course it won't last — we've got a hard snap or three ahead of us yet, and probably another big storm as well — but spring is coming, Paul, and my mother always used to say that the hope of spring is like the hope of heaven.'
      He put his fork back down on the plate with the egg still on it.
      'Don't want that last bite? All done?'
       'All done,' he agreed, and in his mind he saw the Roydmans driving up from Sidewinder, saw a bright arrow of light strike Mrs Roydman's face, making her wince and put a shielding hand up — What's down there, Ham? . . . Don't tell me I'm crazy, there's something down there! Reflection damn near burned m'eye out! Back up, I want to take another look.
        'Then I'll just take the tray,' she said, 'and you can get started.' She favored him with a glance that was very warm. 'I just can't tell you how excited I am, Paul.'
       She went out, leaving him to sit in the wheelchair and look at the water running from the icicles which clung to the edge of the barn.

    29

    'I'd like some different paper, if you could get it,' he said when she came back to put the typewriter and paper on the board.
      'Different from this?' she asked, tapping the cellophane-wrapped package of Corrasable Bond. 'But this is the most expensive of all! I asked when I went into the Paper Patch!'
      'Didn't your mother ever tell you that the most expensive is not always the best?'
      Annie's brow darkened. Her initial defensiveness had been replaced by indignation. Paul