Сияние

Night Thoughts

           Hisbookswereinthebookcase,hiscoloringbooksonthedesk.Aplaceforeverythingandeverythinginitsplace.Mommysaid.Thenyouknowwhereitiswhenyouwantit.Butnowthingshadbeenmisplaced.Thingsweremissing.Worsestill,thingshadbeenadded,thingsyoucouldn’tquitesee,likeinoneofthosepicturesthatsaidCANYOUSEETHEINDIANS?Andifyoustrainedandsquinted,youcouldseesomeofthem-thethingyouhadtakenforacactusatfirstglancewasreallyabravewithaknifeclampedinhisteeth,andtherewereothershidingintherocks,andyoucouldevenseeoneoftheirevil,mercilessfacespeeringthroughthespokesofacoveredwagonwheel.Butyoucouldneverseeallofthem,andthatwaswhatmadeyouuneasy.Becauseitwastheonesyoucouldn’tseethatwouldsneakupbehindyou,atomahawkinonehandandascalpingknifeintheother…

           Heshifteduneasilyinhisbed,hiseyessearchingoutthecomfortingglowofthenightlight.Thingswereworsehere.Heknewthatmuchforsure.Atfirsttheyhadn’tbeensobad,butlittlebylittle…hisdaddythoughtaboutdrinkingalotmore.SometimeshewasangryatMommyanddidn’tknowwhy.Hewentaroundwipinghislipswithhishandkerchiefandhiseyeswerefarawayandcloudy.MommywasworriedabouthimandDanny,too.Hedidn’thavetoshineintohertoknowthat;ithadbeenintheanxiouswayshehadquestionedhimonthedaythefirehosehadseemedtoturnintoasnake.Mr.

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