Stephen King’s stories have never been about monsters—not really. They’ve always been about people. About what fear does to us. About what we’re willing to sacrifice for security, for power, for the things we think we need.
In the early ‘90s, I devoured his books, captivated by his ability to strip humanity down to its core—the choices we make when tested, the thin line between good and evil, the battle between fear and reason. The Stand was the ultimate cosmic struggle, a story about the forces that pull people apart or bring them together.
But lately, one of his lesser-known works, Needful Things has been tapping me on the shoulder, reminding me of something unsettling. The fractures in Castle Rock—the way fear turned neighbors into enemies—feel eerily familiar. I look around, and I see my own country splintering. Families divided. Once-clear truths are buried beneath the weight of misinformation.
“There were people who lied for gain, people who lied from pain, people who lied simply because the concept of telling the truth was utterly alien to them . . . and then there were people who lied because they were waiting for it to be time to tell the truth.”
And I wonder: Have we all made a bargain we don’t understand?
Stephen King’s novel unfolds like a cautionary tale for our time: a charismatic outsider arrives in town, offering exactly what each person has long desired. He promises happiness, belonging, and purpose—if only they will pay his price. But what they don’t realize is that the price isn’t just money; it’s loyalty, it’s division, it’s a slow, corrosive turning against one another. And in the end, the town burns.
The parallels are impossible to ignore.
The Charlatan’s Promise
Leland Gaunt understands human nature too well. He doesn’t force Castle Rock’s citizens into conflict—he simply nudges them, exploiting their personal grievances and turning them into weapons. He convinces them that the trinkets he offers—the things they’ve always wanted—are priceless, though in reality, they’re nothing more than junk.
In American politics today, the same strategy plays out in a larger, more dangerous arena. Political figures craft a narrative where only they hold the key to restoring the country’s lost greatness. Only they can provide safety, strength, prosperity—if their followers remain loyal, if they ignore dissent, if they turn against those deemed outsiders. The promises sound grand, but just like Gaunt’s worthless trinkets, they are hollow.
Turning People Against Each Other
Gaunt doesn’t need to directly destroy Castle Rock—he knows that if he poisons the town’s relationships, people will do it themselves. Friends become enemies. Longstanding resentments are given fresh fuel. The town collapses not because of external destruction, but because the people themselves unravel the fabric of their own community.
We’ve seen the same thing happen in America: manipulated fears turned into battle lines. Immigrants, journalists, educators, entire communities labeled as threats to prosperity, scapegoated until the divide feels irreparable. The strategy is simple: convince people that what they have—whether it’s tradition, power, or identity—is being stolen, and they will fight to protect it. They will fight even if their perceived enemy is their own neighbor.
The Fallout
In Needful Things, the ultimate realization comes too late: the town burns to the ground, and the objects people fought over—their supposed treasures—are revealed to be worthless. They destroyed everything for nothing.
This is the warning we should heed. When manipulation takes root, when division becomes a weapon, when people sacrifice real values for imagined grievances, the result is destruction. The country fractures, communities weaken, and in the end, all that’s left is the wreckage of what was once a shared identity.
The Urgency to Speak
History will remember this time. Whether future generations look back and recognize the warning signs or continue down the same path will depend on whether people speak up, whether they document, whether they refuse to be silent.
I choose to write because silence is complicity. I write because I see the patterns. And like those watching Castle Rock burn, I refuse to stand by and let the flames consume my community without saying something first.
Final Thoughts & Call to Action
History is shaped not just by the leaders who rise, but by the people who allow themselves to be divided. Fear convinces us to fight over illusions—over things we are told we must protect. But the truth is, what we need most isn’t found in fear, in loyalty to a singular figure, or in turning against our neighbors. What we need is each other. What we need is the willingness to listen, to reject manipulation, to find our common ground. If we refuse to be divided, we refuse to let history repeat itself.
