the well written - stephen king

But Nadine had always and forever belonged only to Nadine.  She was
the aerth's child...  Aunt and Uncle were too old, they had been in their
mid fifties when she turned sixteen, the year she had run fleetly through
the dewy grass under the moon - the night of wine, when dreams
condensed out of thin air like the nightmilk of fantasy.  A lovenight.  And
if the boy caught her she would have given him whatever prizes were hers
to give...  But he hadn't caught her.  A cloud had drifted over the moon.
The dew began to feel clammy and unpleasant, frightening.  The taste of
wine in her mouth had somehow changed to the taste of electric spit;
slightly sour.  A kind of metamorphosis had taken place, a feeling that she
should, must wait.  And where had he been then, her intended, her dark
bridegroom?

- Stephen King, The Stand

By Dan-ah Kim