❝SORRY IS THE KOOL-AID OF HUMAN EMOTIONS. IT'S WHAT YOU SAY WHEN YOU SPILL A CUP OF COFFEE OR THROW A GUTTER BALL WHEN YOU'RE BOWLING WITH THE GIRLS IN THE LEAGUE. TRUE SORROW IS AS RARE AS TRUE LOVE.❞ - CARRIE, STEPHEN KING (1976)
CARRIE WHITE was...
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CARRIE: CREEPSHOW
❝THIS IS GONNA BE AN ENTIRELY NEW EXPERIENCE.❞ -STEPHEN KING, CREEPSHOW (1982)
❖
THE TOWN LOOKED EXACTLY THE same, but also newer. The parts that Carrie remembered destroying that night were fixed in almost the exact same way they were before, only this time they had a bit of shine to the typical rustic, worn-down Hawkins vibe. The only thing that differed from the way the town looked back in 1972 was the scorch marks on the paved roads from the fires that burned through town. That, and the countless pumpkins that were set outside of people's houses.
"Halloween..." Carrie concluded, speaking softly.
Mama never let her celebrate Halloween; it was the Devil's holiday where witches and demons would crawl from the pits of Hell and terrorize both the sinners and the saints. Carrie often wondered what it was like to go out and get candy from the different houses by simply dressing in costume and shouting the words "trick or treat" to those who answered the door. She would watch them from her window, never getting to know what it was like to be a child.
Mama... That's right. She was gone.
But even though she knew that Mama was gone, even though she knew there was nothing to go back to, Carrie walked in the direction of the White family bungalow. Was it for closure? Maybe. Comfort? Perhaps. But it was undeniable that curiosity struck Carrie like the knife that...
Barely anybody was in the streets. The sun had just barely come up in the sky so only those with the earliest of morning shifts would be out and about. But even so, not a soul was passing through. Perhaps that was for the best. After all, seeing a girl walking the empty streets of a semi-small town covered in years-old blood would have been one Hell of a morning starter.
Carrie's feet, though heavily bruised and bloodied from ages of walking that desolate version of Earth, moved smoothly against the Hawkins pavement that led to the White family bungalow. She knew it was this way because everything was still the same. Each house was still in the same condition Carrie remembered it to be. Even the trees, which were aging steadily, were still rooted out front of the houses with the manicured lawns surrounding them, though they seemed to be dying at a great speed due to the frigid winter air that would soon be nearing their fair town.
The houses began to look more and more familiar to her sunken eyes. She noticed Stacy Walter's busted front porch from her son's best friend ramming into it with his car when picking him up one night. And there was Mr. Anderson's house with the lopsided tree that Carrie always itched to climb on like the other kids in the neighborhood he let take a whack at it. Oh, how she longed to climb up that tree and get a scrape on the knee and go crying to her caring mother; how she just longed to be normal like those other kids!
