Author: Stephen King & Joe Hill

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This story is a lot of fun.  For anyone who's actually been in some tall grass as it "hummed furiously with insects," you will get a shiver of deja vu.  In fact, saying that the tall grass is "alive" is an understatement.  I've walked in such places and been showered with hundreds, row-after-row, of large grasshoppers—kamikaze style.  It gets to the point where you have to just accept/ignore it or go insane—REALLY!  I won't even tell ya about the snakes.  No one in their right mind would just take a leisurely stroll in it.  I went in to get some pictures.  Usually, for any sane person, there has to be a specific purpose.  And that's where our story comes in.

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Would you enter the tall grass if someone was calling for "help"?  Of course you would!  Right?  However, if I "had" to go in after reading this tale, I might have to do what that group of dolts in the grocery store did in "The Mist."  Tie myself to some rope and have someone feed it out as I went in.  I might fair better than the unfortunate lug nuts in "The Mist," but perhaps not.  Maybe one of those figures scratched on the ancient, vibrating rock embedded within the field of nasty grass is an insane lawnmower man.  Or there might be a pond in there somewhere that has a single raft floating in the middle.  Who knows?  The baby eaters, maybe?  Silence lay steadily against the bloody fodder and prehistoric stone in the tall grass.

Another real fine sub-story is that of the locals, who seem to know all about the tall grass.  The people trapped within might hear the squelch of their car alarm off in the distance, as the cold and "abandoned" vehicle is being fearlessly ransacked.  Who are these freaks, and how did they find out about the killer weeds?  And once again we have to ask, who's worse—the "monster" or the faceless, unidentified people?  I think we all know the answer to that one.

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