he is in the perfect healing situation。 And I think the very fact that he is
able to differentiate so sharply between Tony's world and ‘real things' says a
lot about the fundamentally healthy state of his mind。 He says that you two are
no longer considering divorce。 Is he as right as I think he is？〃
〃Yes；〃 Wendy said； and Jack squeezed her hand tightly； almost painfully。 She
squeezed back。
Edmonds nodded。 〃He really doesn't need Tony anymore。 Danny is flushing him
out of his system。 Tony no longer brings pleasant visions but hostile nightmares
that are too frightening for him to remember except fragmentarily。 He
internalized Tony during a difficult — desperate — life situation； and Tony is not
leaving easily。 But he is leaving。 Your son is a little like a junkie kicking
the habit。〃
He stood up； and the Torrances stood also。
〃As I said； I'm not a psychiatrist。 If the nightmares are still continuing
when your job at the Overlook ends next spring； Mr。 Torrance； I would strongly
urge you to take him to this man in Boulder。〃
〃I will。〃
〃Well； let's go out and tell him he can go home；〃 Edmonds said。
〃I want to thank you；〃 Jack told him painfully。 〃I feel better about all this
than I have in a very long time。〃
〃So do I；〃 Wendy said。
At the door； Edmonds paused and looked at Wendy。 〃Do you or did you have a
sister； Mrs。 Torrance？ Named Aileen？〃
Wendy looked at him； surprised。 〃Yes； I did。 She was killed outside our home
in Somersworth； New Hampshire； when she was six and I was ten。 She chased a ball
into the street and was struck by a delivery van。〃
〃Does Danny know that？〃
〃I don't know。 I don't think so。〃
〃He says you were thinking about her in the waiting room。〃
〃I was；〃 Wendy said slowly。 〃For the first time in 。。。 oh； I don't know how
long。〃
〃Does the word 'redrum' mean anything to either of you？〃
Wendy shook her head but Jack said； 〃He mentioned that word last night； just
before he went to sleep。 Red drum。〃
〃No； rum；〃 Edmonds corrected。 〃He was quite emphatic about that。 Rum。 As in
the drink。 The alcoholic drink。〃
〃Oh；〃 Jack said。 〃It fits in； doesn't it？〃 He took his handkerchief out of his
back pocket and wiped his lips with it。
〃Does the phrase ‘the shining' mean anything to you？〃
This time they both shook their heads。
〃Doesn't matter； I guess；〃 Edmonds said。 He opened the door into the waiting
room。 〃Anybody here named Danny Torrance that would like to go home？〃
〃Hi； Daddy！ Hi； Mommy！〃 He stood up from the small table where he had been
leafing slowly through a copy of Where the Wild Things Are and muttering the
words he knew aloud。
He ran to Jack； who scooped him up。 Wendy ruffled his hair。
Edmonds peered at him。 〃If you don't love your mommy and daddy； you can stay
with good old Bill。〃
〃No； sir！〃 Danny said emphatically。 He slung one arm around Jack's neck； one
arm around Wendy's； and looked radiantly happy。
〃Okay；〃 Edmonds said； smiling。 He looked at Wendy。 〃You call if you have any
problems。〃
〃Yes。〃
〃I don't think you will；〃 Edmonds said； smiling。
》
THE SCRAPBOOK
Jack found the scrapbook on the first of November； while his wife and son were
hiking up the rutted old road that ran from behind the roque court to a deserted
sawmill two miles further up。 The fine weather still held； and all three of them
had acquired improbable autumn suntans。
He had gone down in the basement to knock the press down on the boiler and
then； on impulse； he had taken the flashlight from the shelf where the plumbing
schematics were and decided to look at some of the old papers。 He was also
looking for good places to set his traps； although he didn't plan to do that for
another month — I want them all to be home from vacation； he had told Wendy。
Shining the flashlight ahead of him； he stepped past the elevator shaft （at
Wendy's insistence they hadn't used the elevator since they moved in） and
through the small stone arch。 His nose wrinkled at the smell of rotting paper。
Behind him the boiler kicked on with a thundering whoosh； making him jump。
He flickered the light around； whistling tunelessly between his teeth。 There
was a scale…model Andes range down here： dozens of boxes and crates stuffed with
papers； most of them white and shapeless with age and damp。 Others had broken
open and spilled yellowed sheaves of paper onto the stone floor。 There were
bales of newspaper tied up with hayrope。 Some boxes contained what looked like
ledgers； and others contained invoices bound with rubber bands。 Jack pulled one
out and put the flashlight beam on it。
ROCKY MOUNTAIN EXPRESS； INC。
To： OVERLOOK HOTEL
From： SIDEY'S WAREHOUSE； 1210 16th Street； Denver； CO。
Via： CANDIAN PACIFIC RR
Contents： 400 CASES DELSEY TOILET TISSUE； 1 GROSS/CASE
Signed D E F
Date August 24； 1954
Smiling； Jack let the paper drop back into the box。
He flashed the light above it and it speared a hanging lightbulb； almost
buried in cobwebs。 There was no chain pull。
He stood on tiptoe and tried screwing the bulb in。 It lit weakly。 He picked up
the toilet…paper invoice again and used it to wipe off some of the cobwebs。 The
glow didn't brighten much。
Still using the flashlight； he wandered through the boxes and bales of paper；
looking for rat spoor。 They had been here； but not for quite a long time 。。。
maybe years。 He found some droppings that were powdery with age； and several
nests of neatly shredded paper that were old and unused。
Jack pulled a newspaper from one of the bundles and glanced down at the
headline。
JOHNSON PROMISES ORDERLY TRANSITION
Says Work Begun by JFK Will Go Forward
in ing Year
The paper was the Rocky Mountain News； dated December 19； 1963。 He dropped it
back onto its pile。
He supposed he was fascinated by that monplace sense of history that anyone
can feel glancing through the fresh news of ten or twenty years ago。 He found
gaps in the piled newspapers and records； nothing from 1937 to 1945； from 1957
to 1960； from 1962 to 1963。 Periods when the hotel had been closed； he guessed。
When it had been between suckers grabbing for the brass ring。
Ullman's explanations of the Overlook's checkered career still didn't ring
quite true to him。 It seemed that the Overlooks spectacular location alone
should have guaranteed its continuing success。 There had always been an American
jetset； even before jets were invented； and it seemed to Jack that the Overlook
should have been one of the bases they touched in their migrations。 It even
sounded right。 The Waldorf in May； the Bar Harbor House in June and July； the
Overlook in August and early September； before moving on to Bermuda； Havana；
Rio； wherever。 He found a pile of old desk registers and they bore him out。
Nelson Rockefeller in 1950。 Henry Ford & Fam。 in 1927。 Jean Harlow in 1930。
Clark Gable and Carole Lombard。 In 1956 the whole top floor had been taken for a
week by 〃Darryl F。 Zanuck & Party。〃 The money must have rolled down the
corridors and into the cash registers like a twentieth…century stock Lode。
The management must have been spectacularly bad。
There was history here； all right； and not just in newspaper headlines。 It was
buried between the entries in these ledgers and account books and room…service
chits where you couldn't quite see it。 In 1922 Warren G。 Harding had ordered a
whole salmon at ten o'clock in the evening； and a case of Coors beer。 But whom
had he been eating and drinking with？ Had it been a poker game？ A strategy
session？ What？
Jack glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that forty…five minutes had
somehow slipped by since he had e down here。 His hands and arms were grimy；
and he probably smelled bad。 He decided to go up and take a shower before Wendy
and Danny got back。
He walked slowly between the mountains of paper； his mind alive and ticking
over possibilities in a speedy way that was exhilarating。 He hadn't felt this
way in years。 It suddenly seemed that the book he had semijokingly promised
himself might really happen。 It might even be right here； buried in these untidy
heaps of paper。 It could be a work of fiction； or history； or both — a long book
exploding out of this central place in a hundred directions。
He stood beneath the cobwebby light； took his handkerchief from his back
pocket without thinking； and scrubbed at his lips with it。 And that was when he
saw the scrapbook。
A pile of five boxes stood on his left like some tottering Pisa。 The one on
top was stuffed with more invoices and ledgers。 Balanced on top of those；
keeping its angle of repose for who knew how many years； was a thick scrapbook
with white leather covers； its pages bound with two hanks of gold string that
bad been tied along the binding in gaudy bows。
Curious； he went over and took it down。 The top cover was thick with dust。 He
held it on a plane at lip level； blew the dust off in a cloud； and opened it。 As
he did so a card fluttered out and he grabbed it in mid…air before it could fall
to the stone floor。 It was rich and creamy； dominated by a raised engraving of
the Overlook with every window alight。 The lawn and playground were decorated
with glowing Japanese lanterns。 It looked almost as though you could step right
into it； an Overlook Hotel that had existed thirty years ago。
Horace M。 Derwent Requests
The Pleasure of Your pany
At a Masked Ball to Celebrate
The Grand Opening of
THE OVERLOOK HOTEL
Dinner Will Be Served At 8 P。M。
Unmasking And Dancing At Midnight
A