Characters in Carrie

… from a letter dated May 3, 1988, from Amelia Jenks, Royal Knob, Tennessee, to Sandra Jenks, Macon, Georgia: . . . and your little neece is growin like a weed, awfull big for only 2. She has blue eyes like her daddy and my blond hair but that will porubly …

In the case of Andrea Kolintz (see Appendix II for a fuller history), we are told that, following a spanking for crawling out on the roof, “The medicine cabinet flew open, bottles fell to the floor or seemed to hurl themselves across the bathroom, doors flew open and slammed shut, …

Annie was playin with her brothers marbles only they was mooving around all by themselfs. Annie was giggeling and laffing but I was a little skared. Some of them marbles was going right up & down.

Billy Bosnan was just standing there with his little conductor's stick in his hand and shaking his head. Mr. Lublin was sitting by Miss Desjardin and calling for a Kleenex. She had a bloody nose. You have to understand that all this happened in no more than two minutes.

Billy deLois and Henry Trennant, two boys waiting for the lecture due them for cutting French I, goggled around from their chairs. “Come in,” Mr. Morton said briskly. “Come right in.” He glared over Desjardin's shoulder at the boys, who were staring at the bloody handprint on her shorts.

“Not much of it got into the local paper. By the time Billy Harris came around—he reported the Chamberlain news—she had already gotten the roof fixed, and when people told him the stones had gone right through it, I think he thought we were all pulling his leg.

“Billy Nolan,” Chris Hargensen said sullenly. “Well, isn't he the lucky one?” Desjardin remarked. “What are you going to give him for a party favor, Chris, a bloody Kotex? Or how about some used toilet paper? I understand these things seem to be your sack these days.” Chris went red.

… everyone finding out (hey, scratch-ass, your bum itch?); Billy Preston putting peanut butter in her hair that time she fell asleep in study hall; the pinches, the legs outstretched in school aisles to trip her up, the books knocked from her desk, the obscene postcard tucked into her purse; Carrie …

… him daddy o mommy wide lips o teeth bobby pushed me o my knee car want to ride in the car we're going to see aunt cecily mommy come quick i made pee) in the wind of memory; and still on and on, finally reaching a shelf marked TOMMY, subheaded …

It is more or less assumed in the scientific community (see, for instance, Bourke and Hannegan's “A View Toward Isolation of the TK Gene with Specific Recommendations for Control Parameters” in Microbiology Annual, Berkeley: 1982) that when a testing procedure is established, all school-age children will undergo the test as …

“This is the last day they sell them.” “Hey, Tommy, you're going the wrong way!” Brent Gillian yelled. She stopped. “You're going to be late.” “Will you?” “Your class,” she said, distraught. “Your class. The bell is going to ring.” “Will you?” “Yes,” she said with angry helplessness.

Bruce Trevor had been a marginal student but a fantastic basketball player. Coach Gaines didn't like him, but Trevor was going to put Ewen in the area tournament for the first time in ten years.

Brucie was in greatest favor right now. He was a Seagrams 7 man. She was turning into one ugly bag, too. But the car: the car fed him power and glory from its own mystic lines of force. It made him someone to be reckoned with, someone with mana.

What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic. Graffiti scratched on a desk of the Barker Street Grammar School in Chamberlain: Carrie White eats shit. The locker room was filled with shouts, echoes, and the subterranean sound of showers splashing on tile.

… in the car we're going to see aunt cecily mommy come quick i made pee) in the wind of memory; and still on and on, finally reaching a shelf marked TOMMY, subheaded PROM. Books thrown open, flashes of experience, marginal notations in all the hieroglyphs of emotion, more complex than …

Chief Burton was hollering at them, and that's when the school exploded. Je-sus. Q. Did you leave the police station? A. Yeah. I wanted to find Plessy and tell him about that crazy broad and the fire hydrants.

Block was the town's Commissioner of Public Utilities, and that included water. “Nope. But Chief Deighan says they got water in the old Rennett Block across town. They're laying hose now. I collared some kids, and they're settin' up a hospital in the police station.

“Yes. Not all of them, although some of them may rat on the rest. Christine Hargensen appeared to be the ringleader . . . as usual.” “Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured. “Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw.

… “—too cheap to spend a goddam penny so Cindi and I—” Miss Desjardin, their slim, nonbreasted gym teacher, stepped in, craned her neck around briefly, and slapped her hands together once, smartly. “What are you waiting for, Carrie? Doom? Bell in five minutes.” Her shorts were blinding white, her legs …

Coach Gaines didn't like him, but Trevor was going to put Ewen in the area tournament for the first time in ten years. He was cut from the team a week before Ewen's last must-win game against the Stadler Bobcats.

Carrie turned toward home. • • • From the sworn testimony of Mrs. Cora Simard, taken before The State Investigatory Board (from The White Commission Report), pp. 217-18: Q. Mrs. Simard, the Board understands that you lost your daughter on Prom Night, and we sympathize with you deeply.

No, no. Naughty. She slammed them shut again, catching somebody's fingers—it felt like Dale Norbert—in the jamb and severing one of them. She began to reel across the lawn again, a scarecrow figure with bulging eyes, toward Main Street.

The Period Six students were coming in now, and some of them were looking over curiously. Dale Ullman said something to a boy Tommy didn't know and both of them snickered. “Come on,” Tommy said. They walked out into the hall.

“The kid's name was Danny Patrick. He beat the living shit out of me once when we were in the sixth grade. I hated him, but I was scared, too. I was laying for him. You know how that is?” She didn't, but nodded anyway.

Donna Thibodeau was taking tickets at the door along with David Bracken. They were both National Honor Society members, part of Miss Geer's personal Gestapo, and they wore white slacks and red blazers—the school colors.

From The Shadow Exploded: Documented Facts and Specific Conclusions Derived from the Case of Carietta White, by David R. Congress (Tulane University Press: 1981), p.

From “Telekinesis: Analysis and Aftermath” (Science Yearbook 1981), by Dean D. L. McGuffin: There are, of course, still these scientists today—regretfully, the Duke University people are in their forefront—who reject the terrific underlying implications of the Carrie White affair.

Dick O'Connell, general manager of the Boston Red Sox, has indicated that Ross would have been offered a fairly large bonus for signing a contract, had he lived.

Across the room, Don Barrett was putting up an extension ladder preparatory to gilding the overhead steel beams with crepe paper. “Look,” Helen said. “There goes Chris now.” Susan looked up just in time to see her walking into the cubbyhole office to the left of the gym entrance.

It would be Frank and Jessica or maybe Don Farnham and Helen Shyres. Or—hell! Two piles were growing larger than the others. Mr. Stephens finished dividing the slips and all four of them took turns at counting the large piles, which looked about the same.

From The Shadow Exploded (p. 60): The following excerpt is from a letter to Donna Kellogg from Christine Hargensen. The Kellogg girl moved from Chamberlain to Providence, Rhode Island, in the fall of 1978. She was apparently one of Chris Hargersen's few close friends and a confidante.

“Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured. “Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.”

Mr. Edwin King, who had Carrie for grade seven English, says: “I don't know why I saved it. She certainly doesn't stick out in my mind as a superior pupil, and this isn't a superior verse.

The laundry was Godless. Momma had told her so many times. The foreman, Mr. Elton Mott, was especially Godless. Momma said that Satan had reserved a special blue corner of Hell for Elt, as he was called at the Blue Ribbon. Alone. She opened her eyes.

(Esquire magazine, September 12, 1980) by Jack Gaver: Estelle Horan has lived in the neat San Diego suburb of Parrish for twelve years, and outwardly she is typical Ms. California: She wears bright print shifts and smoked amber sunglasses; her hair is black-streaked blonde; she drives a neat maroon Volkswagen …

Sue? Fern? Helen? Jessica? Any of you? You think she's ugly. Well, you're all ugly. I saw it on Friday morning.” Chris Hargensen was mumbling about her father being a lawyer. “Shut up!” Desjardin yelled in her face. Chris recoiled so suddenly that her head struck the lockers behind her.

Frank and Jessica. Quite possible. Frank Grier had made the All New England football team this year, but Jessica was another little sparrowfart with more pimples than brains. Don and Helen. Forget it. Helen Shyres couldn't get elected dog catcher. And the last pairing: Tommy and Sue.

Morty blinked. “With who? The Beak?” The Beak was Freddy Holt, another of Ewen's misfits. He weighed perhaps one hundred pounds soaking wet, and the casual observer might be tempted to believe that sixty of it was nose. “No,” Grayle said. “With Tommy Ross.”

One of them had been a friend of these boys, a luckless bastard named Freddy Overlock. Freddy had been caught red-handed in old man Henty's henhouse, and had received a double dose of number-six bird where the good Lord had split him.

George and Frieda. No way. Frieda Jason was a Jew. Peter and Myra. No way here, either. Myra was one of the female clique dedicated to erasing the whole horse race. She wouldn't serve even if elected. Besides, she was about as good-looking as the ass-end of old drayhorse Ethel.

… milk buckets) a childhood memory of his Uncle Galen's farm and then with (somebody dropped something) the band below him. He caught a glimpse of Josie Vreck looking over his head (what have i got a halo or something) and then the quarter-full bucket of blood struck him. The raised …

Why not just have a sock hop and be done with it?); George Chizmar, Ewen's most artistic student, had done a small chalk sketch of gondolas on a canal at sunset and a gondolier in a huge straw fedora leaning against the tiller as a gorgeous panoply of pinks and …

“I don't blame you. Come on.” George Dawson and Frieda Jason were standing by the Coke machine. Frieda was in an orange tulle concoction, and looked a little like a tuba. Donna Thibodeau was taking tickets at the door along with David Bracken.

… recent scholars such as J. W. Bankson and George Fielding have made a more reasonable case for the hypothesis that the concept, linked irrevocably in her mind with the “sin” of intercourse, had been blocked entirely from her mind. She may simply have refused to believe that such a thing …

Those who oppose this story, most lately led by George Jerome of Harvard, claim that this is either a highly romantic distortion or an outright lie.

David. Are you familiar with it?” Grayle was. George Kramer, the assistant principal of the consolidated high school in S.D. 14 was a poker buddy. George wasn't playing much poker any more. He was working for an insurance company after taking it upon himself to cut a student's hair.

Q. Mrs. Georgette Shyres? A. Yes, they live around the corner. 217 Willow. That's just off Carlin Street. She was pounding and calling: “Cora, are you in there? Are you in there?” I went to the door. She was in her bathrobe and slippers. Her feet looked cold.

Mrs. Georgia McLaughlin, the only one of three remaining residents who were on the street at that time and who would talk to me, said that she did not call the police because she thought the screams had something to do with “holy rollin'.”

Can you blame even such a renowned physicist as Gerald Luponet for claiming the whole thing is a hoax and a fraud, even in the face of such overwhelming evidence as the White Commission presented? For if Carrie White is the truth, then what of Newton?

It is more or less assumed in the scientific community (see, for instance, Bourke and Hannegan's “A View Toward Isolation of the TK Gene with Specific Recommendations for Control Parameters” in Microbiology Annual, Berkeley: 1982) that when a testing procedure is established, all school-age children will undergo the test as …

Her mother had become involved with a new man (Harold Allison, whom she later married) and they both wanted Margaret out of the house—she believed her mother, Judith, and Harold Allison were living in sin and made her views known frequently.

… Doctor in attendance Harold Kuebler M.D.

Hearses too. Did I do right?” “Yes.” Doyle ran his hands through his hair. “Have you seen Harry Block?” Block was the town's Commissioner of Public Utilities, and that included water. “Nope. But Chief Deighan says they got water in the old Rennett Block across town. They're laying hose now.

“Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured. “Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.”

Billy Nolan was at the pink fuzz-covered wheel. Jackie Talbot, Henry Blake, Steve Deighan, and the Garson brothers, Kenny and Lou, were also squeezed in. Three joints were going, passing through the inner dark like the lambent eyes of some rotating Cerberus. “You sure Henty ain't around?” Henry asked.

functions, and American Legion award ceremonies by Principal Henry Grayle) usually termed him “lovable Mort.” The student body was more apt to term him “that crazy ass-jabber from the office.” But, as few students such as Billy deLois and Henry Trennant spoke at P.T.A.

The valedictorian, Henry Stampel, broke into tears halfway through his speech and could not continue. There were no Graduation Night parties following the ceremony; the Seniors merely took their diplomas and went home. And still, as the summer progressed, the hearses continued to roll as more bodies were discovered.

Billy deLois and Henry Trennant, two boys waiting for the lecture due them for cutting French I, goggled around from their chairs. “Come in,” Mr. Morton said briskly. “Come right in.” He glared over Desjardin's shoulder at the boys, who were staring at the bloody handprint on her shorts.

No one was near them; the closest was Holly Marshall, on the other end of the mural, coloring the gondola's keel. “Can I ask you about it, Sue?” Helen asked finally. “God, everybody's talking.” “Sure.” Sue stopped coloring and flexed her hand.

It was run by a morose fat man named Hubert Kelly who dyed his hair black and complained constantly that his electronic pacemaker was on the verge of electrocuting him.

… little prank almost cost a little girl named Irma Swope two toes. The Swope girl has a harelip, I understand. I'm talking about your daughter, Mr. Hargensen. Does that tell you anything?” “Yes,” Hargensen said, rising. A thin flush had suffused his features. “It tells me I'll see you in …

… Nolan and his friends make the trip to Irwin Henty's farm in North Chamberlain. The thought of that trip's imagined result would have appealed to a warped sense of poetic justice, I am sure. . .. The car screamed up the rutted Stack End Road in North Chamberlain at a …

… the word entails, and recent scholars such as J. W. Bankson and George Fielding have made a more reasonable case for the hypothesis that the concept, linked irrevocably in her mind with the “sin” of intercourse, had been blocked entirely from her mind. She may simply have refused to believe …

(Esquire magazine, September 12, 1980) by Jack Gaver: Estelle Horan has lived in the neat San Diego suburb of Parrish for twelve years, and outwardly she is typical Ms. California: She wears bright print shifts and smoked amber sunglasses; her hair is black-streaked blonde; she drives a neat maroon Volkswagen …

Some of the others had police records; one of them, Jackie Talbot, was first busted at the age of nine for stealing hubcaps. If you've got a social-worker mentality, you can even regard these people as unfortunate victims. But what can you say for Chris Hargensen herself?

A. I received a radio transmission from Officer Jacob Plessy at 10:21. Q. What was the nature of the radio call? A. Officer Plessy said there was trouble at the school, but he didn't know if it was serious or not.

Her girl friends, Helen Shyres and Jeanne Gault, had both done It, and they both assured her that it only hurt for a minute—like getting a shot of penicillin—and then it was roses. But for Sue, the first time had been like being reamed out with a hoe handle.

Craters. Mrs. White hired a junkman from across town to cart them away, and Jerry Smith from up the street paid him a buck to let him chip a piece off one. He took it to B.U. and they looked at it and said it was ordinary granite.

“Sixty-three votes for Frank Grier and Jessica MacLean, and sixty-three votes for Thomas Ross and Carrie White.” This was followed by a moment of silence, and then sudden, swelling applause. Tommy looked across at his date.

“Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.” “Did you talk to the girls involved?”

Margaret's father, John Brigham, was killed in a barroom shooting incident in the summer of 1959. Margaret Brigham, who was then almost thirty, began attending fundamentalist prayer meetings.

“John Hargensen to see you, Mr. Grayle.” “Send him in, please.” Goddammit, Fish, do you have to sound so impressed? Grayle was an irrepressible paper-clip-bender, napkin-ripper, corner-folder.

… From Slang Terms Explained: A Parents' Guide, by John R. Coombs (New York: The Lighthouse Press, 1985), p. 73: to rip off a Carrie: To cause either violence or destruction; mayhem, confusion; (2) to commit arson (from Carrie White, 1963-1979) From The Shadow Exploded (p. 201): Elsewhere in this book …

Hey, call a doctor quick!” It was Josie Vreck. He was up on the stage, kneeling by Tommy Ross, and his face was white as paper. He tried to pick him up, and the throne fell over and Tommy rolled onto the floor. Nobody moved. They were all just staring.

Judith Brigham expected her daughter to remain a spinster the rest of her life. In the more pungent phraseology of her soon-to-be stepfather, “Margaret had a face like the ass end of a gasoline truck and a body to match.” He also referred to her as “a little prayin' Jesus.”

It has been theorized (especially by William G. Throneberry and Julia Givens, Berkeley) that resurgence of the TK ability at this point was caused by both psychological factors (i.e., the reaction of the other girls and Carrie herself to their first menstrual period) and physiological factors (i.e., the advent of …

His friends were just as easily led by Billy himself. Kenny Garson, who dropped out of high school when he was eighteen, had a tested third-grade reading level. In the clinical sense, Steve Deighan was little more than an idiot.

Some people were still hitching and snorting. Lennie Brock had taken out a big white handkerchief and was wiping his eyes. Sally McManus looked all white, like she was going to throw up, but she was still giggling and she couldn't seem to stop.

Lou Garson reached past Kenny and got something out of the glove compartment. Billy and Henry went around to the trunk and opened it. “The bastard is going to shit where he stands when he comes back and gets a look,” Steve said with soft glee.

… stud poker and I got to thinking Fast Marcel Dubay was cheating. I would have known better sober—a Frenchman's idea of pullin' a fast one is to look at his own cards—but that got me going. I'd had a couple of beers, you know, so I folded my hand and …

The stones fell principally on the home of Mrs. Margaret White, damaging the roof extensively and ruining two gutters and a downspout valued at approximately $25. Mrs. White, a widow, lives with her three-year-old daughter, Carietta. Mrs. White could not be reached for comment.

“Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.” “Did you talk to the girls involved?”

This was actually over the Chamberlain town line and into Durham, but I was assisting Mel Crager, who is the Durham constable. Q. When were you first informed that trouble had broken out at Ewen High School? A. I received a radio transmission from Officer Jacob Plessy at 10:21.

He whirled gracefully to the door, yanked it open, glared at Billy and Henry, and called: “Miss Fish, could we have a dismissal slip here, please? Carrie Wright.” “White,” said Miss Desjardin. “White,” Morton agreed. Billy deLois sniggered. “Week's detention!” Morton barked. A blood blister was forming under his thumbnail.

Sue mimicked Miss Geer, the spinster chairman (apt enough term for Miss Mustache) of the Decoration Committee. “Yeah, but why not the Refreshment Committee or the Entertainment Committee? Less back, more mind. The mind, that's my area. Besides, you're not even—” She bit down on the words. “Going?”

… suddenly banging down all over the house; giving Miss Macaferty four flat tires all at once by unscrewing the valves in the tires of her Volkswagen; the stones— (!!!!!!! no no no no no !!!!!!!) —but now there was no denying the memory, no more than there could be a …

Morton Cratzchbarken, in an admittedly sensationalized address to The National Colloquium on Psychic Phenomena last year, said that the two most stunning events of the twentieth century have been the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963 and the destruction that came to Chamberlain, Maine, in May of 1979.

“Don't be nervous,” he said. “You're like Galatea.” “Who?” “Galatea. We read about her in Mr. Evers' class. She turned from a drudge into a beautiful woman and nobody even knew her.” She considered it. “I want them to know me,” she said finally. “I don't blame you. Come on.”

I was stuck to the spot. Mr. Kirk and his wife Virginia came out on their lawn to look. The Smiths, too. Pretty soon everyone on the street that was home had come out, even old Mrs. Warwick from up the block, and she was deaf in one ear.

Two or three stagehands were sliding the King and Queen thrones from the wings while Mr. Lavoie, the head custodian, directed them with hand motions toward preset marks on the apron.

Mr. Lublin was sitting by Miss Desjardin and calling for a Kleenex. She had a bloody nose. You have to understand that all this happened in no more than two minutes. Nobody could put it all together. We were stunned.

At the teacher's desk Mr. Stephens, a tall man just beginning to run to fat, was folding papers abstractedly back into his ratty brown briefcase. “Carrie?” “Ohuh?” She looked up from her books with a startled wince, as if expecting a blow.

She told Mrs. Bicente, God rest her, that the Lord was reserving a special burning seat in hell for her because she gave the kids an outline of Mr. Darwin's beliefs on evolution. She was suspended twice while she was here—once for beating a classmate with her purse.

They came in pajamas and curlers (Mrs. Dawson, she of the now-deceased son who had been a very funny fellow, came in a mudpack as if dressed for a minstrel show); they came to see what happened to their town, to see if it was indeed lying burned and bleeding.

… and soap operas all day on television at Mrs. Garrison's house when she had Carrie In To Visit (Mrs. Garrison was eighty-six), walking down to the Center to get a malted after supper at the Kelly Fruit when it was deserted, getting fatter, losing hope, losing even the power to …

His mother had gone over to visit Mrs. Klein across the street. His father was in the cellar workroom making a birdhouse. Sue looked uncomfortable but determined. “It's the way I want it, Tommy.” “Well it's not the way I want it.

… Chorus CHAPERONES Mr. Stephens, Miss Geer, Mr. and Mrs. Lublin, Miss Desjardin Coronation at 10:00 P.M. Remember, it's YOUR prom; make it one to remember always! When he asked her the third time, Carrie had to admit that she didn't know how to dance. She didn't add that, now that …

The Smiths, too. Pretty soon everyone on the street that was home had come out, even old Mrs. Warwick from up the block, and she was deaf in one ear. “Things started to crash and tinkle and break. Bottles, glasses, I don't know what all.

Flex. She suddenly stared fiercely at Mrs. Yorraty's big picture window. She thought: (stupid frumpy old bitch break that window) Nothing. Mrs. Yorraty's picture window glittered serenely in the fresh nine o'clock glow of morning. Another cramp gripped Carrie's belly and she walked on. But . . . The light.

Myra Crewes called with uneasy good nature. “It insults men, too!” George Dawson called back, and there was general laughter. Myra was silent. She had made her token protest. “Take your seats, please!” Vic was smiling into the mike, smiling and blushing furiously, fingering a pimple on his chin.

… television or take out her books or call Nancy on the phone. There was nothing to do but sit on the sofa facing the blackness of the kitchen window and feel some nameless sort of fear growing in her like an infant coming to dreadful term. With a sigh she …

If that bitchy Norma Watson comes back and catches you, I never saw you.” “Okay,” Chris murmured, already absorbed in the floor plan. She didn't hear the door close. George Chizmar had also done the floor plan, so it was perfect. The dance floor was clearly marked. Twin bandstands.

From Ogilvie's Dictionary of Psychic Phenomena: Telekinesis is the ability to move objects or to cause changes in objects by force of the mind.

A. Yeah. Big Otis, he's a friend of mine. Q. Are you referring to Sheriff Otis Doyle of this county? A. Yeah. He told me to pop in any time I started feeling mean.

It remined me of gramma, do you remember when the law came up that time after Pete and there guns flew out of there hands and grammie just laffed and laffed. And she use to be able to make her rocker go even when she wasen in it.

… . Monday morning; Principal Grayle and his understudy, Pete Morton, were having coffee in Grayle's office. “No word from Hargensen yet?” Morty asked. His lips curled into a John Wayne leer that was a little frightened around the edges. “Not a peep. And Christine has stopped lipping off about how …

Pete Taber. He was just a little guy, but he had lots of muscle. Danny got on him about something, I don't know, marbles or something, and finally Peter just rose up righteous and beat the shit out of him.

George and Frieda. No way. Frieda Jason was a Jew. Peter and Myra. No way here, either. Myra was one of the female clique dedicated to erasing the whole horse race. She wouldn't serve even if elected. Besides, she was about as good-looking as the ass-end of old drayhorse Ethel.

Excerpt from a letter dated June ninth from Principal Henry Grayle to Peter Philpott, Superintendent of Schools: . . . and so I feel I can no longer continue in my present position, feeling, as I do, that such a tragedy might have been averted if I had only had …

“Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured. “Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.”

As noted earlier, Ralph White died in February of 1963 when a steel girder fell out of a carrying sling on a housing-project job in Portland. Mrs. White continued to live alone in their suburban Chamberlain bungalow.

Red Trelawney was ole man Henty's hired hand. He was a heavy drinker and just as handy with the birdshot as his employer. “He won't be back until they close up.” “Hell of a risk for a joke,” Jackie Talbot grumbled. Billy stiffened. “You want out?”

Just below the thrones, a live 220-volt electricity cable was crackling on the floor and beside it Rhonda Simard was doing a crazed puppet dance in her green tulle formal. Its full skirt suddenly blazed into flame and she fell forward, still jerking.

Well I must go & do a wash so give my best to Rich and take care to send us some pitchers when you can. Still our Annie is awfull pretty & her eyes are as brite as buttons. I bet she'll be a world-beeter someday.

A terrible and black foreknowledge grew in Rita Desjardin's mind. It was incredible, could not be. She herself had begun menstruation shortly after her eleventh birthday and had gone to the head of the stairs to yell down excitedly: “Hey, Mum, I'm on the rag!” “Carrie?” she said now.

Roger Fearon has lived in Chamberlain for twenty-two years, and has been with the mail for eighteen of those years. He has risen during that time from a third-floor bagger making seventy-three cents an hour to dye-house foreman; yet he seems strangely unmoved by the possibility of losing his job.

Helen, Roy Evarts. Chris, I imagine that you can take your pick. Who's the lucky guy?” “Billy Nolan,” Chris Hargensen said sullenly. “Well, isn't he the lucky one?” Desjardin remarked. “What are you going to give him for a party favor, Chris, a bloody Kotex?

“She thinks they're for lipstick!” Ruth Gogan suddenly shouted with cryptic glee, and then burst into a shriek of laughter. Sue remembered the comment later and fitted it into a general picture, but now it was only another senseless sound in the confusion. Sixteen? She was thinking.

Investigations are now being conducted into the life of Margaret Brigham's grandmother, Sadie Cochran—for, if the dominant/ recessive pattern obtains with TK as it does with hemophilia, Mrs. Cochran may have been TK dominant.

Sally McManus looked all white, like she was going to throw up, but she was still giggling and she couldn't seem to stop. Billy Bosnan was just standing there with his little conductor's stick in his hand and shaking his head.

… 1988, from Amelia Jenks, Royal Knob, Tennessee, to Sandra Jenks, Macon, Georgia: . . . and your little neece is growin like a weed, awfull big for only 2. She has blue eyes like her daddy and my blond hair but that will porubly go dark. Still she is awfull …

… Saturday afternoon I got that fat pitch from Saunders and we upset Dorchester. Get married to some nagging broad and always own last year's model, vote Democrat—” “Don't,” she said, her mouth suddenly full of a dark, sweet horror. She pulled him to her. “Love me. My head is so …

… attributed to the conclusion offered by White and Stearns in their paper Telekinesis: A Wild Talent Revisited—that the ability to move objects by effort of the will alone comes to the fore only in moments of extreme personal stress. The talent is well hidden indeed; how else could it have …

I was standing with Tina Blake and Stella Horan, and I think they saw it, too. All at once there was a huge red splash in the air. Some of it hit the mural and ran in long drips.

In the clinical sense, Steve Deighan was little more than an idiot. Some of the others had police records; one of them, Jackie Talbot, was first busted at the age of nine for stealing hubcaps. If you've got a social-worker mentality, you can even regard these people as unfortunate victims.

But the rock would not hide them; the dead tree gave no shelter. From My Name Is Susan Snell by Susan Snell (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1986), pp. i-iv: There's one thing no one has understood about what happened in Chamberlain on Prom Night.

All six gas pumps was off their hooks. Teddy Duchamp's been dead since 1968, God love him, but his boy locked those pumps up every night just like Teddy himself used to do. Every one of them Yale padlocks was hanging busted by their hasps.

… of Kleen Korners, standing shoulder to shoulder with Terri Smith (Miss Potato Blossom of 1975) and Vicki Jones (Vice President of the Women's League), armed with signs and petitions and sweet, slightly desperate smiles. Carrie, it was that goddamned Carrie, this was her fault. Perhaps before today she had heard …

Only Momma was good. Momma had battled the Black Man and had vanquished him. Carrie had seen it happen in a dream.

THREE BODIES HAVE BEEN RECOVERED SO FAR. ONE HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AS THOMAS B. MEARS, A CHAMBERLAIN FIREMAN. THE TWO OTHERS WERE APPARENT PROM-GOERS. THREE MORE CHAMBERLAIN FIREMEN HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO MOTTON RECEIVING HOSPITAL SUFFERING FROM MINOR BURNS AND SMOKE INHALATION.

… shrouded in mystery as the part played by Thomas Everett Ross, Carrie's ill-starred escort to the Ewen High School Spring Ball. Morton Cratzchbarken, in an admittedly sensationalized address to The National Colloquium on Psychic Phenomena last year, said that the two most stunning events of the twentieth century have been …

the screams had become irregular. Mrs. White was found in her bed upstairs, and the investigating officer, Thomas G. Mearton, at first thought she had been the victim of an assault. The bed was drenched with blood, and a butcher knife lay on the floor.

From the sworn testimony of Thomas K. Quillan, taken before The State Investigatory Board of Maine in connection with the events of May 27-28 in Chamberlain, Maine (abridged version which follows is from Black Prom: The White Commission Report, Signet Books: New York, 1980): Q. Mr. Quillan.

“Chris and her Mortimer Snerds,” Morton murmured. “Yes. Tina Blake, Rachel Spies, Helen Shyres, Donna Thibodeau and her sister Mary Lila Grace, Jessica Upshaw. And Sue Snell.” She frowned. “You wouldn't expect a trick like that from Sue. She's never seemed the type for this kind of a—a stunt.”

They got out of the car. It was almost nine-thirty. Vic Mooney, President of the Senior Class, was calling jovially into the mike: “All right, ladies and gentlemen. Take your seats, please. It's time for the voting. We're going to vote for the King and Queen.” “This contest insults women!”

… Terri Smith (Miss Potato Blossom of 1975) and Vicki Jones (Vice President of the Women's League), armed with signs and petitions and sweet, slightly desperate smiles. Carrie, it was that goddamned Carrie, this was her fault. Perhaps before today she had heard distant, circling footfalls around their lighted place, but …

And she thought her legs were actually pretty, almost as pretty as Sue Snell's or Vicky Hanscom's. She could be (what o what o what) could stop the chocolates and her pimples would go down. They always did. She could fix her hair. Buy pantyhose and blue and green tights.

I was stuck to the spot. Mr. Kirk and his wife Virginia came out on their lawn to look. The Smiths, too. Pretty soon everyone on the street that was home had come out, even old Mrs. Warwick from up the block, and she was deaf in one ear.

… Specific Conclusions Derived from the Case of Carietta White, by David R. Congress (Tulane University Press: 1981), p. 34: It can hardly be disputed that failure to note specific instances of telekinesis during the White girl's earlier years must be attributed to the conclusion offered by White and Stearns in …

But it has only been running one shift since June 4th, and according to mill president William A. Chamblis, further lay-offs are a strong possibility. “We have the orders,” Chamblis said, “but you can't run a mill without people to punch the time clock. We don't have them.

It has been theorized (especially by William G. Throneberry and Julia Givens, Berkeley) that resurgence of the TK ability at this point was caused by both psychological factors (i.e., the reaction of the other girls and Carrie herself to their first menstrual period) and physiological factors (i.e., the advent of …