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I began reading It by Stephen King just before taking a road trip through Maine. I drove into Rumford, Maine late one night, checked into a creepy motel, and finished the book. All night gurgling noises came from the plumbing. I regressed to the childhood era of monsters under the bed and demons in the closet. Never have I been happier to see the sun rise and take the road that led far away.
It's still the scariest book I've ever read, but I'm sure the inexplicable noises coming the plumbing in that Maine motel colored the actual memory of the book.
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