Сияние

Watson

           Itoldhimoncerighttohisface,Isaid…"

           Watson’swordsfadedawaytoacomfortingdroneastheymountedthestairs.JackTorrancelookedbackoverhisshoulderonceintotheimpenetrable,mustysmellingdarknessandthoughtthatiftherewaseveraplacethatshouldhaveghosts,thiswasit.HethoughtofGrady,lockedinbythesoft,implacablesnow,goingquietlyberserkandcommittinghisatrocity.Didtheyscream?hewondered.PoorGrady,feelingitcloseinonhimmoreeveryday,andknowingatlastthatforhimspringwouldnevercome.Heshouldn’thavebeenhere.Andheshouldn’thavelosthistemper.

           AshefollowedWatsonthroughthedoor,thewordsechoedbacktohimlikeaknell,accompaniedbyasharpsnap-likeabreakingpencillead.DearGod,hecoulduseadrink.Orathousandofthem.

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