书名：Night Shift守夜

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数760L
作者：Stephen King斯蒂芬·金
出版社名称：Anchor
出版时间：2011
语种：英文
ISBN：9780307743640
商品尺寸：10.5 x 3.1 x 17.4 cm
包装：简装
页数：432 （以实物为准）
恐怖小说的首要魅力在于它预演了我们的死亡 。

而死亡是丰富的，其中包含着庄严、悲伤、愤怒、迷茫、怪异，甚至有趣。
Night Shift《守夜》是无可争议的惊悚小说大师斯蒂芬·金首部短篇小说集 ，收录了20个极具悬念的惊悚故事。异乎寻常的情节，匪夷所思的事件，暮色中，恐惧和疯狂披上了诡异、超凡的外衣。墙壁里的声响、床榻旁的黑影：怪物在潜行……
一个个熟悉而平凡的场景：高中，工厂，卡车加油站，洗衣房，内布拉斯加的玉米地……在斯蒂芬·金的世界里，任何地方都有可能成为魔鬼的乐园。
《守夜》宛如教科书一般的写作，书中七成故事曾被改编为影视剧。20个恐怖故事可谓别具一格，有的黑暗惊悚，读之令人汗毛竖起，有的虽然披着悬疑的外衣，实则却充满了黯然忧伤的感情色彩……这部小说集中有几个故事如《撒冷镇》和《喝一杯再走》可以看作是为后来斯蒂芬·金的知名恐怖小说《撒冷镇》带来了创作灵感。可以说，习惯了斯蒂芬·金的大部头恐怖小说后，这部短小精悍的小说集无疑是恐怖大师的另类之作：悬疑、惊悚、幽默、忧伤……但唯独不变的是，斯蒂芬·金奖继续冲击人们的精神世界，拷问人们的心灵底线。

媒体推荐
“在后面的故事里，你会遇见各色昼伏夜出的生灵：吸血鬼、魔鬼情人、躲在衣橱里的家伙，还有其他各种各样的鬼怪。这些都不是真的。那个躲在我床下，伺机抓我脚踝的东西也不是真的。我心里清楚。我也知道，如果我小心地把脚藏在被子里，它永远也无法得逞。” ——斯蒂芬·金，《守夜》序言 
“无可争议的惊悚小说大师。”——《时代》周刊 
“无与伦比的想象力。”——《观察家报》 
“斯蒂芬·金创立了一种将普通人置于恐怖境地的文学种类……他总能让不可能吓人的东西变得无比吓人，您不由得就想去检查门锁是否牢靠。”——《波士顿环球报》 
“金一定会将你收入他的网中，让恐怖抵达你心里毫无防备的所在。”——《辛辛那提调查报》

Night Shift—Stephen King’s first collection of stories—is an early showcase of the depths that King’s wicked imagination could plumb.  In these 20 tales, we see mutated rats gone bad (“Graveyard Shift”); a cataclysmic virus that threatens humanity (“Night Surf,” the basis for The Stand); a smoker who will try anything to stop (“Quitters, Inc.”); a reclusive alcoholic who begins a gruesome transformation (“Gray Matter”); and many more.  This is Stephen King at his horrifying best.
Review 
“A master storyteller.”  — Los Angeles Times
“Eerie.... Ought to chill the cockles of many a heart.”  — Chicago Tribune
“A master.... [King] will catch you in his web and reach you at an elemental level where there is no defense.”  — The Cincinnati Enquirer
“Stephen King has built a literary genre of putting ordinary people in the most terrifying situations.... he’s the author who can always make the improbable so scary you’ll feel compelled to check the locks on the front door.”  — The Boston Globe
 “Peerless imagination.”  — The Observer (London) 
听我说，朋友。

千万别去耶路撒冷镇，别管镇上教堂的塔尖有多么古雅，街道有多么安静。 
也别走进一望无际的玉米地，那里藏着一群孩子，他们崇拜行走在玉米地里的上帝。 
也别为了挣一点钱去清理无人光顾的地下室，地下室的下面可能还有地下室。 
也别在草莓春天里出去散步，别走近高速公路旁的停车场，别羡慕被爱情点亮双眼的男孩，别爱上了解你所有需要的人，别期待你从梯子上掉下来总有人接着…… 
也别和坐在轮椅上的我聊天，我只是一扇大门，藏在我绷带下面的那些眼睛快要醒了。
斯蒂芬·金，1947年生于美国缅因州波特兰市，后在缅因州州立大学学习英语文学。1973年出版首部长篇小说《魔女嘉莉》，随即大获成功。迄今已出版四十多部长篇小说和两百多篇短篇小说，代表作有《肖申克的救赎》《绿里奇迹》《它》《重生》《守夜》和“《黑暗塔》系列”等，被《时代》周刊誉为“无可争议的惊悚小说大师”。有超过百部影视作品取材或改编自他的小说。2003年获美国国家图书基金会颁发的“杰出贡献奖”，2004年获“世界奇幻文学奖”的“终身成就奖”，2007年获美国推理作家协会“爱伦·坡奖”的“大师奖”。《守夜》是他的首部短篇小说集，其中七成故事曾被改编为影视剧。

Stephen Kingis the author of more than fifty books, all of them worldwide bestsellers. Among his most recent are Full Dark, No Stars; Under the Dome; Just After Sunset; Duma Key; Lisey’s Story; Cell; and the last three novels in the Dark Tower saga: Wolves of the Calla, Song of Susannah, and The Dark Tower. His acclaimed nonfiction book On Writing is also a bestseller. In 2003, he was awarded the National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, and in 2007 he received the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America. He lives in Maine with his wife, novelist Tabitha King.
JERUSALEM’S LOT

Oct. 2, 1850.

DEAR BONES,

How good it was to step into the cold, draughty hall here at Chapelwaite, every bone in an ache from that abominable coach, in need of instant relief from my distended bladder—and to see a letter addressed in your own inimitable scrawl propped on the obscene little cherry-wood table beside the door! Be assured that I set to deciphering it as soon as the needs of the body were attended to (in a coldly ornate downstairs bathroom where I could see my breath rising before my eyes).

I’m glad to hear that you are recovered from the miasma that has so long set in your lungs, although I assure you that I do sympathize with the moral dilemma the cure has affected you with. An ailing abolitionist healed by the sunny climes of slave-struck Florida! Still and all, Bones, I ask you as a friend who has also walked in the valley of the shadow, to take all care of yourself and venture not back to Massachusetts until your body gives you leave. Your fine mind and incisive pen cannot serve us if you are clay, and if the Southern zone is a healing one, is there not poetic justice in that?

Yes, the house is quite as fine as I had been led to believe by my cousin’s executors, but rather more sinister. It sits atop a huge and jutting point of land perhaps three miles north of Falmouth and nine miles north of Portland. Behind it are some four acres of grounds, gone back to the wild in the most formidable manner imaginable—junipers, scrub vines, bushes, and various forms of creeper climb wildly over the picturesque stone walls that separate the estate from the town domain. Awful imitations of Greek statuary peer blindly through the wrack from atop various hillocks—they seem, in most cases, about to lunge at the passer-by. My cousin Stephen’s tastes seem to have run the gamut from the unacceptable to the downright horrific. There is an odd little summer house which has been nearly buried in scarlet sumac and a grotesque sundial in the midst of what must once have been a garden. It adds the final lunatic touch.

But the view from the parlour more than excuses this; I command a dizzying view of the rocks at the foot of Chapelwaite Head and the Atlantic itself. A huge, bellied bay window looks out on this, and a huge, toadlike secretary stands beside it. It will do nicely for the start of that novel which I have talked of so long [and no doubt tiresomely].

To-day has been gray with occasional splatters of rain. As I look out all seems to be a study in slate—the rocks, old and worn as Time itself, the sky, and of course the sea, which crashes against the granite fangs below with a sound which is not precisely sound but vibration—I can feel the waves with my feet even as I write. The sensation is not a wholly unpleasant one.

I know you disapprove my solitary habits, dear Bones, but I assure you that I am fine and happy. Calvin is with me, as practical, silent, and as dependable as ever, and by midweek I am sure that between the two of us we shall have straightened our affairs and made arrangement for necessary deliveries from town—and a company of cleaning women to begin blowing the dust from this place!

I will close—there are so many things as yet to be seen, rooms to explore, and doubtless a thousand pieces of execrable furniture to be viewed by these tender eyes. Once again, my thanks for the touch of familiar brought by your letter, and for your continuing regard.

Give my love to your wife, as you both have mine.

CHARLES.