Stephen King: Uncollected, Unpublished - Revised & Expanded Edition

by Rocky Wood

  Keyholes (c.1984)

  A spiral bound notebook donated by King was auctioned on 1 May 1988 to benefit the American Repertory Theater. The notebook contained the fragmentary story that has become known as Keyholes, as well as notes by King to himself and Tabitha King, a handwritten revision of Silver Bullet and a series of algebraic equations solved in King’s handwriting!

  Keyholes appears only as a story fragment in the notebook, handwritten by King over 2 ½ pages and totalling only 768 words. Copies of the pages circulate in the King community. The story was apparently written in early 1984, prior to the release of Silver Bullet in 1985.

  According to Spignesi 70 the notebook has since changed hands “several times” on the secondary market for large sums of money.

  From only two and one half pages of notebook manuscript there is little to be said about this America Under Siege tale. In it a man visits a psychiatrist. Michael Briggs, a construction worker, was seeing Dr. Conklin about his 7-year-old son, Jeremy at Conklin’s New York City office. Jeremy’s mother, Briggs’ wife, is dead.

  Briggs, apart from being the widowed father of at least the one child, was a 45 year old construction worker and lived in Lovinger, New York, 40 miles from New York City.

  (Conklin’s first, snap, judgement was that this man … was not the sort of fellow who usually sought psychiatric help. He was dressed in dark courderoy (sic) pants, a neat blue shirt, and a sport-coat that matched – sort of – both. His hair was long, almost shoulder-length. His face was sunburned. His large hands were chapped, scabbed in a number of places, and when he reached over the desk to shake, he felt the rasp of rough calluses.)

  Conklin had suggested Briggs consider seeing another psychiatrist, Milton Abrams, in Albany but his nurse, Nancy Adrian had convinced the doctor to see the new patient. Saying he had sounded “distraught” and that he was “a man who had control … but by inches” she had replied to the idea of a referral with, “Can I suggest you see him once before your (sic) decide that?” and he had agreed after some prompting, even though child psychology was not his specialty and his schedule was full.

  Briggs had told the nurse, “I just want to know what’s going on with my kid – if it’s me or what.” She told Conklin, “He sounded aggressive about it, but he also sounded very, very scared.” And, “He sounded like a man who thinks there’s something physically wrong with his son. Except he called the office of a New York psychiatrist. An expensive New York psychiatrist. And he sounded scared,” she repeated.

  The nurse finally convinced her doctor by telling him that Briggs had worked on

  …a pool addition at Abrams’ country house two years ago. He says he would go to him if you still recommend it after hearing what he has to say, but that he wanted to tell a stranger first and get an opinion. He said, “I’d tell a priest if I was a Catholic.”

  Conklin himself has one interesting habit to do with his cigarette case. “Each morning he filled it with exactly ten Winston 100s – when they were gone, he was done with smoking until the next day. It was not as good as quitting; he knew that. It was just a truce he had been able to reach.”

  In this handwritten and unedited version Nancy Adrian, the 45-year-old receptionist and nurse, is twice referred to as “Nurse Abrams” (a confusion with the doctor in Albany) in error. Conklin had a strong attachment to his employee. He thought “…when she grinned she looked twenty … In his way he loved Nancy Abrams (sic) – once, over drinks, he had called her the Della Street of psychiatry, and she almost hit him.” Della Street was Perry Mason’s secretary, more of a Girl Friday, in Erle Stanley Gardner’s novels and the TV series Perry Mason, starring Raymond Burr as the defense attorney cum sleuth and Barbara Hale as Della.

  Keyholes is at least tangentially reminiscent of King’s short story The Boogeyman, originally published in Cavalier for March 1973 and slightly revised for its appearance in the Night Shift collection.

  There is little else to say about this fragmentary story. Readers are given so little of the plot that many questions come to mind. Is the real reason Briggs wants to see a psychiatrist really a problem with his son, as he has claimed? Is there something of a sexual or sinful nature to what Briggs has to say, after all he said he would tell a priest if he was Catholic (sound like a confession to you?) Is the problem of the boy’s or the father’s mind or is it physical, as nurse Abrams speculated? Why was Briggs scared? How did Mrs. Briggs die?

  The likelihood is that we shall never know the answer to these questions. The fragment was probably written nearly twenty years ago and there is no indication King has ever returned to it, or ever will.

  70 The Lost Work of Stephen King, Stephen J. Spignesi, p.177-179

  The Killer (1994)

  The Killer is effectively a rewrite of I’ve Got to Get Away, one of the stories in King and Chesley’s self-published collection, People, Places and Things (see separate chapter). It was obviously written in King’s teenage years and the only publication was in Famous Monsters of Filmland, issue #202, for Spring 1994. Readers wishing to access the story will have to purchase this publication from one of the specialist online King booksellers.

  In On Writing King has this to say of a story he submitted to a magazine called Spacemen:

  In the late 1950s, a literary agent and compulsive science fiction memorabilia collector named Forrest J. Ackerman changed the lives of thousands of kids – I was one – when he began editing a magazine called Famous Monsters of Filmland. Ask anyone who has been associated with the fantasy-horror-science fiction genres in the last thirty years about this magazine, and you’ll get a laugh, a flash of the eyes, and a stream of bright memories – I practically guarantee it.

  Around 1960, Forry (who sometimes referred to himself as “the Ackermonster”) spun off the short-lived but interesting Spacemen, a magazine which covered science fiction films. In 1960, I sent a story to Spacemen. It was, as well as I can remember, the first story I ever submitted for publication. I don’t recall the title, but I was still in the Ro-Man phase of my development, and this particular tale undoubtedly owed a great deal to the killer ape with the goldfish bowl on his head.

  My story was rejected, but Forry kept it. (Forry keeps everything, which anyone who has ever toured his house – the Ackermansion – will tell you.) About twenty years later, while I was signing autographs at a Los Angeles bookstore, Forry turned up in line . . . with my story, single-spaced and typed with the long-vanished Royal typewriter my mom gave me for Christmas the year I was eleven. He wanted me to sign it to him, and I guess I did, although the whole encounter was so surreal I can’t be completely sure. Talk about your ghosts. Man oh man.

  It is quite possible this anecdote refers to The Killer, as the author is in possession of a photocopy of a one-page manually typewritten copy of The Killer by “Steve King,” which is signed by King, with the dedication, “For FJA – With all best wishes.” If in fact this is the story, signed about 1980, it would seem to explain its subsequent publication in Famous Monsters of Filmland.

  However, Ackerman’s introduction to The Killer in Famous Monsters of Filmland tells a different version. As Ackerman tells it:

  Stephen King was at my house sometime in the early 80s and I surreptitiously produced this manuscript. “Steve,” I said, “I’d like to try a little experiment with you. I’d like to read a portion of a story and see if you can identify its author.” … I wish I’d had a vidicam to record the expression on his face when the dam finally broke and he realized it was his own story from … two decades out of the past!” I asked him at the time I tested his memory if I could publish it, and he gave me his blessing.

  King’s link with Ackerman does not stop there – he wrote an introduction for Ackerman’s book, Mr. Monster’s Movie Gold. The introduction’s title is The Importance of Being Forry – in it King lauds the influence of Famous Monsters of Filmland on the young Steve King, growing up in rural Maine. He says Ackerman “…stood up for a generation of kids wh
o understand that if it was junk, it was magic junk.” It is clear that this influence and King’s understanding that he was part of a wider circle of “kids” in love with the genres of science fiction and horror lead directly to his continuing interest in the genres and almost directly to the best-selling author he is today71.

  The Killer begins, “Suddenly, he snapped awake, and realized he didn’t know who he was, or what he was doing here, in a munitions factory.” The subject could not remember his name or, indeed, “anything.” Picking up a gun, on which he had apparently been working, he approached another man packing bullets, “‘Who am I?’ he said slowly, hesitantly.” The other man did not answer and our protagonist screamed out, “Who am I? Who am I?” but all the other workers ignored him, not even looking up.

  He then “swung the gun at the bullet-packer’s head,” knocking him out. He then picked up some of the bullets, which “happened to be the right calibre” and loaded his gun. Another man approached on an overhead catwalk. When the “killer” yelled, “Who am I?” to the newcomer the man reacted by running away. Instantly, “the killer” shot at the running man who, though hit, managed to press a red button, setting off a wailing siren.

  “Killer! Killer! Killer!” a loudspeaker screamed, yet still the other workers did not look up, but simply “toiled on.” The “killer” ran but came across four uniformed men who “fired at him with queer energy guns.” He managed to shoot one of them but now more were coming, from all sides. “He had to get away” (effectively the title of the other version of this tale). “’Please! Don’t shoot! Can’t you see I just want to know who I am?’ They fired, and the energy beams slammed into him. Everything went black …”

  The twist of the tale is revealed in the last three paragraphs of this one-page story. As the body of the killer was loaded onto a truck one “guard” said:

  “One of them turns killer every now and then …” “I just don’t understand it,” the second said … “Take that one. That he’d say – ‘I just want to know who I am.’ That was it. Seemed almost human. I’m beginning to think they’re making these robots too good.” They watched the robot repair truck disappear around the curve.

  Other than I’ve Got to Get Away, this story is not linked to any other King fiction. There is no timeline setting other than the future. Derivative of pulp science fiction, this short tale is nevertheless fairly well written for a probable 13 or 14 year old, and King must have had some affection for the story to allow it to be published more than thirty years after it was written.

  71 Ackerman died in 2008, aged 92

  The King Family and the Wicked Witch (1977)

  The King Family and the Wicked Witch has one of the more interesting histories of the stories that have been published but have never been included in a King collection. It was published in Flint, an obscure Kansas newspaper, no longer operating. It is effectively impossible to secure an original copy of the newspaper but photocopies of the story circulate within the King community.

  Beahm stated the newspaper was based in Flint, Michigan in The Stephen King Story, (page 301) but Stephen J. Spignesi disputed the certainty of this, stating only that it is assumed Flint was a Michigan based publication. In 2004 researcher Justin Brooks was able to confirm that the newspaper was based in Manhattan, Kansas and that the publication date was 25 August 1977.

  The editor, Roy D. Krantz, prefaced the story with this note:

  Stephen King and I went to college together. No, we were not the best of friends but we did share a few brews together at the University Motor Inn. We did work for the school newspaper at the same time. No, Steve and I are not best friends. But I sure am glad he “made it.” He worked hard and he believed in himself. After eight million book sales, it’s hard to remember him as a typically broke student. We all new (sic) he’d make it though. Last January I wrote of a visit with Steve over the Holiday vacation. We talked about his books, Carrie, ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, and the soon to be released, The Stand. We talked about how Stanley Kubrick wants to do the film versions of his new books. We didn’t talk about the past much though. We talked of the future, his kids, FLINT … He gave me a copy of a story he’d written for his children. We almost ran it then, but there was much concern on the staff as to how it would be received by our readers. We didn’t run it. Well, we’ve debated long enough. It’s too cute for you not to read it! We made the final decision after spending an evening watching TV last week. There were at least 57 more offensive things said, not to mention all the murders, rapes and wars … we decided to let you be the judge. If some of you parents might be offended by the word “fart,” you’d better not read it – but don’t stop your kids, they’ll love it!

  As intimated by the editor, for reasons that shall become obvious, the story is also known as The King Family and the Farting Cookie. Spignesi states this was the original title of the story and says Douglas Winter had a copy of a manuscript with this title72.

  In this Maine Street Horror tale a witch plots against a local family. Witch Hazel, who lived “on the Secret Road in the town of Bridgton” did not like the King family because they were “the happiest family” in Bridgton, Maine. She was so wicked that she turned :

  …a prince from the Kingdom of New Hampshire into a woodchuck. She turned a little kid’s favorite kitty into whipped cream. And she liked to turn mommies’ baby-carriages into big piles of horse-turds while the mommies and their babies were shopping. She was a mean old witch.

  Witch Hazel disguised herself as a fan of Stephen King, bought some of his books at the Bridgton Pharmacy, and drove out to the King house, pretending “…she wanted daddy to sign his books. She drove in a car. She could have ridden her broom, but she didn’t want the Kings to know she was a witch.” After “Daddy” signed her books, “Mommy offered her tea” and, to thank the family for their kindness, Hazel gave them four magic cookies.

  After the Witch left the Kings made the mistake of trying the cookies. The first evil, magic cookie turned Daddy’s nose into a banana and “…when he went down to his office to work on his book much later on that terrible day, the only word he could write was banana.” The second cookie turned Mommy’s hands into milk bottles, “What an awful thing! Could she fix food with milk-bottles for hands? Could she type? No! She could not even pick her nose.”

  The last two cookies made Naomi and Joe cry all the time, “They cried and cried and could not stop! The tears streamed out of their eyes. There were puddles on the rug. Their clothes got all wet. They couldn’t eat good meals because they were crying. They even cried in their sleep.”

  After suffering this fate the “…Kings were not the happiest family in Bridgton any more. Now they were the saddest family in Bridgton … Daddy couldn’t write books because all the words came out banana, and it was hard to see the typewriter anyway because his nose was a banana.” On the other hand, “Witch Hazel was as happy as a wicked witch ever gets. It was her greatest spell.”

  While out walking in the forest about a month later, Mommy found a woodchuck caught in a trap, “…Poor thing! It was almost dead from fright and pain. There was blood all over the trap.” The mother ran for the rest of the family, who banded together and released the animal, using ”six drops of banana oil” from Daddy’s nose to loosen the trap’s rusty hinge. Then we read, ”Have you guessed yet? Oh, I bet you have. He was the Prince of the Kingdom of New Hampshire who had also fallen under the spell of Wicked Witch Hazel.” With the woodchuck’s release all the spells were broken and the Prince appeared before the Kings, “in a Brooks Brothers suit.”

  Daddy’s banana nose disappeared and was replaced with his own nose, which was not too handsome but certainly better than a slightly squeezed banana … The Prince … shook hands with daddy and said he had admired daddy’s books before he had been turned into a woodchuck.

  “All five of them went back to the nice house by the lake…” and plotted to teach Witch Hazel a lesson. They made a cookie out of 300-year-old
baked beans that Daddy got from New Hampshire and took it to her home. They disguised themselves as poor people and when the witch opened the door, “She was wearing a tall black hat. There was a wart on the end of her nose. She smelled of frog’s blood and owls’ hearts and ants’ eyeballs, because she had been whipping up a horrible brew to make more black magic cookies.”

  Witch Hazel did not recognize the Kings and the Prince in disguise, so they tried to sell her their cookie, with daddy claiming, “It is the wickedest cookie in the world. If you eat it, it will make you the wickedest witch in the world, even wickeder than Witch Indira in India.” Greedily, Witch Hazel, saying she would not pay for something she could steal, “…snatched the cookie and gobbled it down.”