![]() The moment where Ben Mears stands at the foot of the looping driveway, rigid with unformed fears, tense and sweating as he stares up at the Marsten House… that FEAR, that comes from not actually seeing anything but from mere whispers, suggestion and vague recollections, really sank into me. Salem’s Lot was, for me, far more about the atmosphere allowed to infect my pre-pubescent imagination.
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