The title of this book was originally going to be (with blood in the ink) I know many of you will think that title sounds more like an Edgar Alan Poe short story and you weren't wrong. Because one night within all the silliness that appears in my dreams, a weird Machiavellian looking character in old clothes came on the scene descending from a steam train fervently waving a small bell in his right hand and boldly shouting "the boy, the boy is back in Durham " I wondered what on earth is this old man talking about? And I tried to approach him to remind him that we were in another state and that the ghost town he was referring to was on the coast of the North Atlantic, and when I walked a few steps in his direction the guy turned his face quickly towards me and I stopped and it was not of my own free will my conscience, my body and everything that represents me as a living being paralyzed every muscle in my legs so that I would not go one step further Somehow I felt panic, because a kind of terror covered its surroundings, and it felt like thick air that does not reach the lungs. I sincerely felt real fear and I slowly moved away from there so that the old man would continue announcing the arrival of that child "to the four winds all over the city". Then when I woke up I understood everything and kept silent. And with this royal introduction I dedicate this collection of horror stories from my humble repertoire to the greatest of all time, Mr. Stephen King.
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