Сияние

Outside 217

           WhatwouldIwanttodotoanicelittleboylikeyou…exceptbite…andbite…andbite?

           Dannytookanotherstep,andanother.Hisbreathwasdryandharshinhisthroat.Panicwasclosenow.Hebegantowishthehosewouldmove,thenatlastbewouldknow,hewouldbesure.Hetookanotherstepandnowhewaswithinstrikingdistance.Butit’snotgoingtostrikeatyou,hethoughthysterically.Howcanitstrikeatyou,biteatyou,whenit’sjustahose?

           Maybeit’sfullofwasps.

           Hisinternaltemperatureplummetedtotenbelowzero.Hestaredattheblackboreinthecenterofthenozzle,nearlyhypnotized.Maybeitwasfullofwasps,secretwasps,theirbrownbodiesbloatedwithpoison,sofullofautumnpoisonthatitdrippedfromtheirstingersincleardropsoffluid.

           Suddenlyheknewthathewasnearlyfrozenwithterror;ifhedidnotmakehisfeetgonow,theywouldbecomelockedtothecarpetandhewouldstayhere,staringattheblackholeinthecenterofthebrassnozzlelikeabirdstaringatasnake,hewouldstayhereuntilhisdaddyfoundhimandthenwhatwouldhappen?

           Withahighmoan,hemadehimselfrun.

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