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play。　He　no　longer　knew　which　side　he　was　on；　or　how　things　should　e　out。　
Once　you　saw　the　face　of　a　god　in　those　jumbled　blacks　and　whites；　it　was　
everybody　out　of　the　pool　—　you　could　never　unsee　it。　Others　might　laugh　and　say　
it's　nothing；　just　a　lot　of　splotches　with　no　meaning；　give　me　a　good　old　Craft…　
master　paint…by…the…numbers　any　day；　but　you　would　always　see　the　face　of　
Christ…Our…Lord　looking　out　at　you。　You　had　seen　it　in　one　gestalt　leap；　the　
conscious　and　unconscious　melding　in　that　one　shocking　moment　of　understanding。　
You　would　always　see　it。　You　were　damned　to　always　see　it。　
　　（I've　been　sleepwalking　again；　my　dear　。。。）　
　　It　had　been　all　right　until　he　had　seen　Danny　playing　in　the　snow。　It　was　
Danny's　fault。　Everything　had　been　Danny's　fault。　He　was　the　one　with　the　
shining；　or　whatever　it　was。　It　wasn't　a　shining。　It　was　a　curse。　If　he　and　
Wendy　had　been　here　alone；　they　could　have　passed　the　winter　quite　nicely。　No　
pain；　no　strain　on　the　brain。　
　　（Don't　want　to　leave。　？Can't？）　
　　The　Overlook　didn't　want　them　to　go　and　he　didn't　want　them　to　go　either。　Not　


　
　
even　Danny。　Maybe　he　was　a　part　of　it；　now。　Perhaps　the　Overlook；　large　and　
rambling　Samuel　Johnson　that　it　was；　had　picked　him　to　be　its　Boswell。　You　say　
the　new　caretaker　writes？　Very　good；　sign　him　on。　Time　we　told　our　side。　Let's　
get　rid　of　the　woman　and　his　snotnosed　kid　first；　however。　We　don't　want　him　to　
be　distracted。　We　don't　—　　
　　He　was　standing　by　the　snowmobile's　cockpit；　his　head　starting　to　ache　again。　
What　did　it　e　down　to？　Go　or　stay。　Very　simple。　Keep　it　simple。　Shall　we　go　
or　shall　we　stay？　
　　If　we　go；　how　long　will　it　be　before　you　find　the　local　hole　in　Sidewinder？　a　
voice　inside　him　asked。　The　dark　place　with　the　lousy　color　TV　that　unshaven　and　
unemployed　men　spend　the　day　watching　game　shows　on？　Where　the　piss　in　the　men's　
room　smells　two　thousand　years　old　and　there's　always　a　sodden　Camel　butt　
unraveling　in　the　toilet　bowl？　Where　the　beer　is　thirty　cents　a　glass　and　you　
cut　it　with　salt　and　the　jukebox　is　loaded　with　seventy　country　oldies？　
　　How　long？　Oh　Christ；　he　was　so　afraid　it　wouldn't　be　long　at　all。　
　　〃I　can't　win；〃　he　said；　very　softly。　That　was　it。　It　was　like　trying　to　play　
solitaire　with　one　of　the　aces　missing　from　the　deck。　
　　Abruptly　he　leaned　over　the　Skidoo's　motor　partment　and　yanked　off　the　
magneto。　It　came　off　with　sickening　ease。　He　looked　at　it　for　a　moment；　then　
went　to　the　equipment　shed's　back　door　and　opened　it。　
　　From　here　the　view　of　the　mountains　was　unobstructed；　picture…postcard　
beautiful　in　the　twinkling　brightness　of　morning。　An　unbroken　field　of　snow　rose　
to　the　first　pines　about　a　mile　distant。　He　flung　the　magneto　as　far　out　into　
the　snow　as　he　could。　It　went　much　further　than　it　should　have。　There　was　a　
light　puff　of　snow　when　it　fell。　The　light　breeze　carried　the　snow　granules　away　
to　fresh　resting　places。　Disperse　there；　I　say。　There's　nothing　to　see。　It's　all　
over。　Disperse。　
　　He　felt　at　peace。　
　　He　stood　in　the　doorway　for　a　long　time；　breathing　the　good　mountain　air；　and　
then　he　closed　it　firmly　and　went　back　out　the　other　door　to　tell　Wendy　they　
would　be　staying。　On　the　way；　he　stopped　and　had　a　snowball　fight　with　Danny。　
　
　
　
　
　　　》　
　
　
　　THE　HEDGES　
　
　
　　It　was　November　29；　three　days　after　Thanksgiving。　The　last　week　had　been　a　
good　one；　the　Thanksgiving　dinner　the　best　they'd　ever　had　as　a　family。　Wendy　
had　cooked　Dick　Hallorann's　turkey　to　a　turn　and　they　had　all　eaten　to　bursting　
without　even　ing　close　to　demolishing　the　jolly　bird。　Jack　had　groaned　that　
they　would　be　eating　turkey　for　the　rest　of　the　winter　—　creamed　turkey；　turkey　
sandwiches；　turkey　and　noodles；　turkey　surprise。　


　
　
　　No；　Wendy　told　him　with　a　little　smile。　Only　until　Christmas。　Then　we　have　the　
capon。　
　　Jack　and　Danny　groaned　together。　
　　The　bruises　on　Danny's　neck　had　faded；　and　their　fears　seemed　to　have　faded　
with　them。　On　Thanksgiving　afternoon　Wendy　had　been　pulling　Danny　around　on　his　
sled　while　Jack　worked　on　the　play；　which　was　now　almost　done。　
　　〃Are　you　still　afraid；　doc？〃　she　had　asked；　not　knowing　bow　to　put　the　
question　less　baldly。　
　　〃Yes；〃　he　answered　simply。　〃But　now　I　stay　in　the　safe　places。〃　
　　〃Your　daddy　says　that　sooner　or　later　the　forest　rangers　will　wonder　why　we're　
not　checking　in　on　the　CB　radio。　They'll　e　to　see　if　anything　is　wrong。　We　
might　go　down　then。　You　and　I。　And　let　your　daddy　finish　the　winter。　He　has　good　
reasons　for　wanting　to。　In　a　way；　doc　。。。　I　know　this　is　hard　for　you　to　
understand　。。。　our　backs　are　against　the　wall。〃　
　　〃Yes；〃　he　had　answered　nonmittally。　
　　On　this　sparkling　afternoon　the　two　of　them　were　upstairs；　and　Danny　knew　that　
they　had　been　making　love。　They　were　dozing　now。　They　were　happy；　he　knew。　His　
mother　was　still　a　little　bit　afraid；　but　his　father's　attitude　was　strange。　It　
was　a　feeling　that　he　had　done　something　that　was　very　hard　and　had　done　it　
right。　But　Danny　could　not　seem　to　see　exactly　what　the　something　was。　His　
father　was　guarding　that　carefully；　even　in　his　own　mind。　Was　it　possible；　Danny　
wondered；　to　be　glad　you　had　done　something　and　still　be　so　ashamed　of　that　
something　that　you　tried　not　to　think　of　it？　The　question　was　a　disturbing　one。　
He　didn't　think　such　a　thing　was　possible　。。。　in　a　normal　mind。　His　hardest　
probings　at　his　father　had　only　brought　him　a　dim　picture　of　something　like　an　
octopus；　whirling　up　into　the　hard　blue　sky。　And　on　both　occasions　that　he　had　
concentrated　hard　enough　to　get　this；　Daddy　had　suddenly　been　staring　at　him　in　
a　sharp　and　frightening　way；　as　if　he　knew　what　Danny　was　doing。　
　　Now　he　was　in　the　lobby；　getting　ready　to　go　out。　He　went　out　a　lot；　taking　
his　sled　or　wearing　his　snowshoes。　He　liked　to　get　out　of　the　hotel。　When　he　was　
out　in　the　sunshine；　it　seemed　like　a　weight　had　slipped　from　his　shoulders。　
　　He　pulled　a　chair　over；　stood　on　it；　and　got　his　parka　and　snow　pants　out　of　
the　ballroom　closet；　and　then　sat　down　on　the　chair　to　put　them　on。　His　boots　
were　in　the　boot　box　and　he　pulled　them　on；　his　tongue　creeping　out　into　the　
corner　of　his　mouth　in　concentration　as　he　laced　them　and　tied　the　rawhide　into　
careful　granny　knots。　He　pulled　on　his　mittens　and　his　ski　mask　and　was　ready。　
　　He　tramped　out　through　the　kitchen　to　the　back　door；　then　paused。　He　was　tired　
of　playing　out　back；　and　at　this　time　of　day　the　hotel's　shadow　would　be　cast　
over　his　play　area。　He　didn't　even　like　being　in　the　Overlook's　shadow。　He　
decided　be　would　put　on　his　snowshoes　and　go　down　to　the　playground　instead。　
Dick　Hallorann　had　told　him　to　stay　away　from　the　topiary；　but　the　thought　of　
the　hedge　animals　did　not　bother　him　much。　They　were　buried　under　snowdrifts　
now；　nothing　showing　but　a　vague　hump　that　was　the　rabbit's　head　and　the　lions'　
tails。　Sticking　out　of　the　snow　the　way　they　were；　the　tails　looked　more　absurd　
than　frightening。　
　　Danny　opened　the　back　door　and　got　his　snowshoes　from　the　milk　platform。　Five　
minutes　later　he　was　strapping　them　to　his　feet　on　the　front　porch。　His　daddy　
had　told　him　that　he　（Danny）　had　the　hang　of　using　the　snowshoes　—　the　lazy；　


　
　
shuffling　stride；　the　twist　of　ankle　that　shook　the　powdery　snow　from　the　
lacings　just　before　the　boot　came　back　down　—　and　all　that　remained　was　for　him　to　
build　up　the　necessary　muscles　in　his　thighs　and　calves　and　ankles。　Danny　found　
that　his　ankles　got　tired　the　fastest。　Snowshoeing　was　almost　as　hard　on　your　
ankles　as　skating；　because　you　had　to　keep　clearing　the　lacings。　Every　five　
minutes　or　so　he　had　to　stop　with　his　legs　spread　and　the　snowshoes　fat　on　the　
snow　to　rest　them。　
　　But　he　didn't　have　to　rest　on　his　way　down　to　the　playground　because　it　was　
all　downhill。　Less　than　ten　minutes　after　he　struggled　up　and　over　the　monstrous　
snow…dune　that　had　drifted　in　on　the　Overlook's　front　porch　he　was　standing　with　
his　mittened　hand　on　the　playground　slide。　He　wasn't　even　breathing　hard。　
　　The　playground　seemed　much　nicer　in　the　deep　snow　than　it　ever　had　during　the　
autumn。　It　looked　like　a　fairyland　sculpture。　The　swing　chains　had　been　frozen　
in　strange　positions；　the　seats　of　the　big　kids'　swings　resting　flush　against　
the　snow。　The　jungle　gym　was　an　ice…cave　guarded　by　dripping　icicle　teeth。　Only　
the　chimneys　of　the　play…Overlook　stuck　up　over　the　snow　
　　（wish　the　other　one　was　buried　that　way　only　not　with　us　in　it）　
　　and　the　tops　of　the　cement　rings　protruded　in　two　places　like　Eskimo　igloos。　
Danny　tramped　over　there；　squatted；　and　began　to　dig。　Before　long　he　had　
uncovered　the　dark　mouth　of　one　of　them　and　he　slipped　into　the　cold　tunnel。　In　
his　mind　he　was　Patrick　McGoohan；　the　Secret　Agent　Man　（they　had　shown　the　
reruns　of　that　program　twice　on　the　Burlington　TV　channel　and　his　daddy　never　
missed　them；　he　would　skip　a　party　to　stay　home　and　watch　〃Secret　Agent〃　or　〃The　
Avengers〃　and　Danny　had　always　watched　with　him）；　on　the　run　from　KGB　agents　in　
the　mountains　of　Switzerland。　There　had　been　avalanches　in　the　area　and　the　
notorious　KGB　agent　Slobbo　had　killed　his　girlfriend　with　a　poison　dart；　but　
somewhere　near　was　the　Russian　antigravity　machine。　Perhaps　at　the　end　of　this　
very　tunnel。　He　drew　his　automatic　and　went　along　the　concrete　tunnel；　his　eyes　
wide　and　alert；　his　breath　pluming　out。　
　　The　far　end　of　the　concrete　ring　was　solidly　blocked　with　snow。　He　tried　
digging　through　it　and　was　amazed　（and　a　little　uneasy）　to　see　how　solid　it　was；　
almost　like　ice　from　the　cold　and　the　constant　weight　of　more　snow　on　top　of　it。　
　　His　make…believe　game　collapsed　around　him　and　he　was　suddenly　aware　that　he　
felt　closed　in　and　extremely　nervous　in　this　tight　ring　of　cement。　He　could　hear　
his　breathing；　it　sounded　dank　and　quick　and　hollow。　He　was　under　the　snow；　and　
hardly　any　light　filtered　down　the　hole　he　had　dug　to　get　in　here。　Suddenly　he　
wanted　to　be　out　in　the　sunlight　more　than　anything；　suddenly　he　remembered　his　
daddy　and　mommy　were　sleeping　and　didn't　know　there　he　was；　that　if　the　hole　he　
dug　caved　in　he　would　be　trapped；　and　the　Overlook　didn't　like　him。　
　　Danny　got　turned　around　with　some　difficulty　and　crawled　back　along　the　length　
of　the　concrete　ring；　his　snowshoes　clacking　woodenly　together　behind　him；　his　
palms　crackling　in　last　fall's　dead　aspen　leaves　beneath　him。　He　had　just　
reached　the　end　and　the　cold　spill　of　light　ing　down　from　above　when　the　snow　
did　give　in；　a　minor　fall；　but　enough　to　powder　his　face　and　clog　the　opening　he　
had　wriggled　down　through　and　leave　him　in　darkness。　
　　For　a　moment　his　brain　froze　in　utter　panic　and　he　could　not　think。　Then；　as　
if　from　far　off；　he　heard　his　daddy　telling　him　that　he　must　never　play　at　the　
Stovington　dump；　because　sometimes　stupid　people　hauled　old　refrigerators　off　to　


　
　
the　dump　without　removing　the　doors　and　if　you　got　in　one　and　the　door　happened　
to　shut　on　you；　there　was　no　way　to　get　out。　You　would　die　in　the　darkness。　
　　（You　wouldn't　want　a　thing　like　that　to　happen　to　you；　would　you；　doc？）　
　　（No；　Daddy。）　
　　But　it　had　happened；　his　frenzied　mind　told　him；　it　had　happened；　he　was　in　
the　dark；　he　was　closed　in；　and　it　was　as　cold　as　a　refrigerator。　And　—　　
　　（something　is　in　here　with　me。）　
　　His　breath　stopped　in　a　gasp。　An　almost　drowsy　terror　stole　through　his　veins。　
Yes。　Yes。　There　was　something　in　here　with　him；　some　awful　thing　the　Overlook　
had　saved　for　just　such　a　chance　as　this。　Maybe　a　huge　spider　that　had　burrowed　
down　under　the　dead　leaves；　or　a　rat　。。。　or　maybe　the　corpse　of　some　little　
kid　that　had　died　here　on　the　playground。　Had　that　ever　happened？　Yes；　he　
thought　maybe　it　had。　He　thought　of　the　woman　in　the　tub。　The　blood　and　brains　
on　the　wall　of　the　Presidential　Sweet。　Of　some　little　kid；　its　head　split　open　
from　a　fall　from　the　monkey　bars　or　a　swing；　crawling　after　him　in　the　dark；　
grinning；　looking　for　one　final　playmate　in　its　endless　playground。　Forever。　In　
a　moment　he　would　hear　it　ing。　
　　At　the　far　end　of　the　concrete　ring；　Danny　heard　the　stealthy　crackle　of　dead　
leaves　as　something