Long before I discovered series like The Babysitter's Club and Sweet Valley High, I would devour the novels on my mother's bookshelf. This meant I was ingesting (at rapid rates... I was an accelerated reader) the likes of Sidney Sheldon, V.C. Andrews and, of course, Danielle Steel. In addition to these intriguing authors, her shelf contained it's fair share of books like The Amityville Horror and Ghost House. It was amidst all of these treasures that I first discovered the only mystery/horror author that would stand my test of time, Stephen King. My personal bookshelf contains a lot of memoirs and non-fiction, novels of ideas, inspirational stories and a smattering of chick-lit (*gasp*), but floating alongside these volumes are books like The Stand and Needful Things, that call out to me not to forget that evil abounds in the most mundane places. I love the movie and miniseries adaptations of King's novels, even the ones that are poorly done. There is just something about his storytelling and perspective that draws me in. The first book I remember reading by Stephen King was the collection of short-stories named Skeleton Crew, and the first story in that collection was The Mist. I have never forgotten reading that story. So, this Thanksgiving week, one of the things I am most excited about is actually the release of the theatrical version of The Mist. Anyone who has sat by me through a suspenseful movie knows that this means there will be a lot of scratching the arm of my chair (which is my somehow less obvious version of gripping the seat) and squeezing my eyes shut at the slightest indication of blood. Why I put myself through this, I do not know, but I just can't resist!