Dear Mr. King:

The FAQ on this here fine site makes it pretty clear that I have no way of actually reaching you (you, Stephen King. Not you, message board readers), but just in case you come across this, I wanted to pass something along that I hope is welcome.

I discovered my first Stephen King book when I was 12, and we had suddenly moved from one crappy place to another to hide from the latest in a parade of my mother's abusive (mostly to me) boyfriends. The cigarette burns from Larry the Vietnam Veteran were still livid on my upper arms when I discovered Christine on the shelves at the library (always my first stop in any new crappy town). I read that book in two days, and those were two solid days I didn't think about that fact that Larry the Vietnam Vet had tried to "seduce" me, and when I had the gall to say "Thanks but no thanks," had marked me in a way that I'd be explaining for the rest of my life. My mother was evidently what therapy sorts call a "malicious narcissist" and what everyone calls an alcoholic. God knows why she had me, but she'd pretty well lost interest in the project by the time I was about 8, and believe me when I tell you that Larry was nowhere near the worst part of my childhood. After I discovered Christine, I read every book or story that you'd ever written that I could get my hands on. Reading anything was my escape from my nightmare of a life, but reading a Stephen King book was a guaranteed escape. When i was reading Stephen King, I wasn't thinking about being ugly (which I most definitely was due some unfixed broken bones in my face), or scared, or hungry, or totally and completely unwanted. I was always totally transported to wherever you chose to take me. Your books (and many others, but yours especially) are literally what kept me alive from ages 12 -18. (At 18 I discovered how to wear make-up to deal with my effed up face and even better - discovered that I had a crazy hot body. So that kept me busy for awhile).

My mother died recently, and things I thought I'd put behind me years ago (I'm 35 now) suddenly came roaring back. I'm sure Larry (the aforementioned Vietnam gunner) would be amazed to find out that I've evidently been suffering from PTSD for some time. I'm dealing with that with therapy (and a sleeve tattoo to cover up those burn scars, 22 titanium pins in my new jaw, and an amazing husband), but it was...pretty dicey there for a few weeks right after she died. I downloaded Under the Dome to my Kindle and it was just like 1987 all over again. at that time, I was barely getting through my days, and I wasn't sleeping at all despite an impressive array of pharmaceuticals & Irish Whiskey at my disposal. And when I read that book...I was again taken away to a different time and place. I read that whole damn book in about 36 hours straight and at that time, it was the first reprieve from the...unpleasant place my head had become.

Just so this entire message isn't a total downer: I actually turned out pretty decently, all things considered. I'm a firefighter in a small town very much like Chester's Mill, and because I love the medical part of what we do, I've just started back to school for a 4 year nursing degree. A perk of working in EMS in a small town, is that occasionally I get stopped by a former patient or his or her family to thank me for saving their life. I just wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that more than once - you saved mine.

Sincerely,

Maureen Whitney

p.s. I think any site, this one included, would be well served to have like, 100% less emoticons than what is offered here. just sayin'