Сияние

217 Revisited

           

           Footstepsapproachingthedoororonlytheheartbeatinhisears?

           Hefumbledatthepasskey.Itseemedsludgy,unwillingtoturninthelock.Heattackedthepasskey.Thetumblerssuddenlyfellandhesteppedbackagainstthecorridor’sfarwall,alittlegroanofreliefescapinghim.Heclosedhiseyesandalltheoldphrasesbegantoparadethroughhismind,itseemedtheremustbehundredsofthem,

           (crackingupnotplayingwithafulldecklostyamarblesguyjustwentloonytuneshewentupandoverthehighsidewentbananaslosthisfootballcrackersnutshalfaseabag)

           allmeaningthesamething:losingyourmind.

           "No,"hewhimpered,hardlyawarethathehadbeenreducedtothis,whimperingwithhiseyesshutlikeachild."Ohno,God.Please,God,no."

           Butbelowthetumbleofhischaoticthoughts,belowthetriphammerbeatofhisheart,hecouldhearthesoftandfutilesoundofthedoorknobbeingturnedtoandfroassomethinglockedintriedhelplesslytogetout,somethingthatwantedtomeethim,somethingthatwouldliketobeintroducedtohisfamilyasthestormshriekedaroundthemandwhitedaylightbecameblacknight.Ifheopenedhiseyesandsawthatdoorknobmovinghewouldgomad.Sohekeptthemshut,andafteranunknowabletime,therewasstillness.

           Jackforcedhimselftoopenhiseyes,half-convincedthatwhenhedid,shewouldbestandingbeforehim.Butthehallwasempty

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