the mist

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It was rolling across the Flatlands, the sun trying to blaze its way through and an occasional tree poking out of the top. Suddenly, it disappeared. I looked up from writing the title for this post and we were in bright sunshine. We're on a slight hill {a hillock?} winding through rural villages and to my left I can see the mist, a thick white layer of nothingness ... I find it very soothing and pretty. I just saw a squirrel and remembered a dream I had last night about snow. Bizarre. But, back to the mist. Soothing and pretty. Quiet. Of course, there is also the idea of some form of evil lurking within the mist, brought on by the fact that we're currently midway through Stephen King's The Mist {which is nothing like its written counterpart} on Netflix. It started off really well, but as with many Stephen King books which become either film or tellybox series, it's already becoming a bit irksome. However, I'm enjoying the subtle nod to the It film, due out next week; oodles of red balloons. I used to be an avid Stephen King reader, soaking up his books with pure abandonment, although his later works do little for me. My favourite is The Stand. If they could remake anything I would want it to be that. But, I need to be the one who chooses the actors who will play the characters as they are in my head. Otherwise, you know ... it will be as rubbish as the Molly Ringwald adaptation and become just another poor book to tellybox adaptation for King. It looks like summer now.