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Transcript of Stephen King's The Shining - a screenplay in progress by Mandolin Hooper
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THE SHINING
An adaptation of Stephen Kings novel by
Mandolin Hooper
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THE SHINING
FADE IN:
INT. MANAGERS OFFICE DAY
Two men stand on one side of a nice desk, admiring several
sheets of floor plans laid out.
One is JACK TORRANCE, a mid-thirties man with thin dark
brown hair and a charming semi-constant smile that says
hire me. His suit is ironed, bought second-hand.
The other is STUART ULLMAN, the man whose office this is,
and the man whose desk he stands over with Jack Torrance,
his interviewee. Ullmans overwhelming cockiness and
condescension suggest hes a twenty-something stud on the
rise, but his bad teeth and graying hair give away those
extra thirty years. His suit is designer, but with a tie
that bad, it doesnt matter.
ULLMAN
The attic, here. Nothing much
to worry about for you,
though I do ask that you set
out a few traps and some
poison bait; one of my maids
believes there to be rats up
there. I dont buy it, not
for a minute, but there
musnt be even a one-in-one-
hundred chance that a single
rat inhabits the OverlookHotel.
JACK
Oh, I think every hotel in
the world has a rat or two in
it--
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ULLMAN
Of course you wouldnt allow
your son up in the attic
under any circumstances.
Jack flashes a wide PR grin.
JACK
No.
(V.O.)
Officious little prick.
ULLMAN
One of the only areas of the
Overlook you shouldnt have
to worry about over the
winter; it seems every
manager since World War II
has put all their unwanted
items up there, and thats
about all its good for.
Ullman stashes the attic page at the bottom of the pile.
ULLMAN
We have one hundred and ten
guest quarters and thirty of
them, all suites, are here on
the third floor. The
Presidential Suite is here in
the west wing, and all of the
rooms command magnificent
views.
JACK
(V.O.)
Spare the sales talk.
Ullman stashes the page.
ULLMAN
The second floor. Forty
rooms, thirty of them doubles
and ten of them singles. And
on the first floor here,
twenty of each. Three linen
closets and two storerooms.
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He points them out and stashes the page.
ULLMAN
And here we have the lobby
level. The registration desk
is in the center, the officesbehind it. In the west wing
we have the dining room and
the Colorado Lounge.
Questions?
JACK
Only about the basement.
Ullman begins to collect the pages and file them back in
the cabinet.
JACK
The most important level of
all for the caretaker.
Jacks PR grin. Ullman frowns and waves it off.
ULLMAN
Watson will show you all
that.
And as an afterthought, while Jack retreats to his chair on
the other side of the desk:
ULLMAN
The basement floor plan is on
the boiler room wall.
With the pages stowed away, Ullman sits as well, the desk
now separating the two men.
ULLMAN
Does your wife fully
understand what youd be
taking on here? And then
theres your son...
Ullman looks at a paper in front of him.
ULLMAN
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...Daniel.
Jack clears his throat.
JACK
Well, theyre bothextraordinary.
ULLMAN
I didnt know five year olds
could be extraordinary.
JACK
(V.O.)
Officious little prick.
PR grin.
JACK
Well, we like to think so, I
suppose. Hes quite self-
reliant.
No returning smile from Ullman. Actually, he frowns and
adjusts his tie before giving Jack a long stare.
ULLMAN
Ill be perfectly frank with
you, Mr. Torrance. Al
Shockley is a powerful man
with a large interest in the
Overlook, which showed a
sizeable profit this season
for the first time in...a
while, at least. Mr. Shockley
also sits on the Board of
Directors, and he has made
his wishes in this caretaking
matter quite clear. He wants
you hired. And I will hire
you. But if I had been given
a free hand in this matter, I
would not have done so.
JACK
(V.O.)
Officious little prick.
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Ullman mulls over his next thought before saying.
ULLMAN
I dont believe you much care
for me, Mr. Torrance. Thats
fine. I dont believe many ofmy staff much care for me,
either. I suppose they see me
as a bit of a bastard. And I
am a bit of a bastard, at
least as far as theyre
concerned. One has to be a
bit of a bastard to run this
hotel in the manner it
deserves.
A pause, Ullman waiting for Jack to possibly comment. Jack
does not.
ULLMAN
The Overlook was finished in
1909 after three years of
troubled construction. A man
named Robert Townley Watson
built it, the grandfather of
our current maintenance man.
Vanderbilts have stayed here,
Rockefellers, Astors, Du
Ponts. Four presidents have
stayed in the Presidential
Suite. Wilson, Harding,
Roosevelt and Nixon.
JACK
I wouldnt be too proud of
Harding and Nixon.
Ullman frowns.
JACK(V.O.)
Shut up, Jack, you need the
job.
ULLMAN
It proved too much for Mr.
Watson, and he sold the hotel
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in 1915. It was sold again in
1922, 1929 and 1936. It stood
vacant until after World War
II, when it was purchased and
renovated by Horace Derwent,
millionaire inventor, pilot,
film producer,
entrepreneur...
JACK
I know the name.
ULLMAN
Yes. Everything he touched
turned to gold. But the
Overlook was an exception. He
funneled over a million
dollars into this place
before the first postwar
guest ever stepped foot
inside it. It was Derwent who
added the roque court I saw
you admiring when you
arrived.
Ullman casually points over his shoulder, loosely aiming
his finger out the window without looking.
JACK
Roque?
ULLMAN
A British forebear of our
croquet, Mr. Torrance.
Croquet is bastardized roque.
Derwent learned the game from
his social secretary and fell
in love with it. Not her, but
the game of course.
Jack briefly nods in understanding and shows a small and
honest smile, holding back the rest of it.
ULLMAN
The Overlooks may be the
finest roque court in
America.
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JACK
I wouldnt doubt it.
ULLMAN
When he had lost three
million dollars, Derwent soldit to a group of California
investors. Their experience
with the Overlook was equally
poor. Just not hotel people.
Jack recrosses his legs and clears his throat. Ullman
notices.
ULLMAN
Anyway, in 1970 Mr. Shockley
and a group of his associates
bought the hotel and turned
its management over to me. We
have also run in the red for
several years, but Im happy
to say that last season we
broke even. The Overlooks
accounts were written in
black for the first time
in...as I said, quite a
while.
Jack nods and pauses.
JACK
Im not sure I see the
connection between the
Overlooks...colorful history
and your feeling that Im...
(choosing his words
carefully)
wrong for the post--
ULLMANIm getting there. One reason
the main reason that the
Overlook has so continuously
lost a great deal of money
lies in the depreciation that
occurs each winter. It
shortens the profit margin a
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great deal. More than you
might believe, Mr. Torrance.
The winters are fantastically
cruel. The caretaker position
that I implemented when I
began my management position
seems to limit that
depreciation by quite a bit.
Your job is absolutely
instrumental in keeping the
Overlook Hotel in the black,
Mr. Torrance.
A sizeable pause. Ullman eyes his interviewee gravely.
ULLMAN
During our first winter here,
I hired a man named Delbert
Grady, he came up here with
his wife and two daughters.
Eight and ten, I believe they
were. No matter. I had my
doubts about him, Mr.
Torrance. He wasnt an
educated man. But he was an
intuitive type, he seemed to
understand things more than
his formal education might
suggest. So I hired himanyway. It was an error, I
freely admit, yes. But more
important than his education,
Mr. Torrance...the man was a
drunk.
It takes a quick moment to register, and Jack smiles not
that PR smile, but a sly grin of contempt-filled
understanding.
JACKThats it? Im surprised Al
didnt tell you. Ive
retired.
ULLMAN
Yes, Mr. Shockley told me you
no longer drink. But he also
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told me about your last job.
Your last...position of
trust, let us say. You were
an English professor at a
Vermont prep school. You lost
your temper, I dont believe
I need to be any more
specific than that.
Jacks jaw clenches at the taste of a bad memory.
ULLMAN
Mr. Grady was also a man who
let his temper...get the
better of him. I suspect that
what happened came as a
result of too much cheap
whiskey, of which Grady had
apparently laid in a generous
supply, unbeknownst to me,
and a curious condition the
old-timers refer to as cabin
fever.
Ullman almost continues, but then pauses to condescendingly
ask:
ULLMAN
Do you know the term?
JACK
Its a slang term for the
claustrophobic reaction that
can occur when people are
shut in together over long
periods of time. Someone gets
beaten, or even killed, over
something as minor as a
burned meal or a dirty dish.
ULLMAN
And thats why Ive been
strict, ever since that
winter, about hiring someone
not attached a college boy
taking a year off, a
divorcee, something like
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that. But you have insisted
upon bringing your wife and
son--
JACK
(V.O.)Officious little prick.
ULLMAN
--And Al Shockley has
insisted that I hire you. So
you will understand my
misgivings about this
situation, Mr. Torrance.
Considering what happened.
JACK
(losing his
patience)
Well what didhappen, Mr.
Ullman?
Ullman pauses, wondering what to do with Jacks less-than-
pleasantness. He decides to ignore it, in favor of proving
a point:
ULLMAN
He chopped up his daughters
with an axe. He did the same
to his wife. Then he sat on
the bed in his quarters and
shot himself in the head with
a shotgun.
Silence.
ULLMAN
So you will understand my
misgivings, Mr. Torrance.
More silence, until Jack finally breaks it by clearing his
throat and forcing an awkward smile.
JACK
Well, Mr. Ullman, I have no
intention of bringing up any
liquor with me, and I have no
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intention of doing my family
any shred of harm. Im sure
well manage to keep quite
busy.
Ullman keeps his glare, expecting more.
JACK
I have a play to write, and
the majority of my time here
will be dedicated to that. As
for my wife, shes an avid
reader, and shes got our son
to look after, Danny. They
both want to learn to
snowshoe, and Danny has his
puzzles and his coloring
books and his crystal radio
and whatnot. I also plan on
teaching him to read. So Im
sure well be able to stay
sane and keep out of each
others hair if the TV goes
on the fritz.
ULLMAN
Well, thats fine. But as
long as the three of you are
up here, the potential for
problems is multiplied. But
Mr. Shockley has said that he
will shoulder the
responsibility, and I have
little choice in the matter.
I only want whats best for
the Overlook. It is a great
hotel. I want it to stay that
way. Nothing personal, Mr.
Torrance.
Jacks PR grin as the two rise to shake hands.
JACK
Not at all.
ULLMAN
Then Watson will show you the
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boiler.
FADE TO:
EXT. HOUSE DAY
The rental house is worn, and anyone could tell just by
looking at it that its seen its years. DANNY TORRANCE, the
child sitting on the curb in front of it, has seen his
years, too, though he hasnt actually lived many only
six.
He turns a relatively new-looking balsa glider over in his
hands, paying closer attention to the passing cars in the
street than on the toy, which has apparently already
received a broken wing.
After a moment of this distracted silence, his mother,
WENDY TORRANCE, steps outside and sits on the curb next to
him.
As she does so:
WENDY
Whats up, doc?
He turns his attention away from the cars and toward his
golden-haired mother, drawing up an unenthusiastic smile
and a perfunctory response.
DANNY
Hi, mom.
She begins to twirl the kitchen towel in her hands in much
the same way that Danny handles his plane.
WENDY
Want me to fix that for you?
Dannys back at the cars, but none of them seem to satisfy
his attention.
DANNY
No, Dadll fix it.
WENDY
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Your dad may not be back
until suppertime, doc. Its a
long drive up into those
mountains. He might not even
be back until after you go to
bed, not if the bug breaks
down.
DANNY
No, the bug wont break down.
WENDY
Its an old car, Danny.
DANNY
The fuel pump will make it.
Even though dad doesnt think
so.
Wendy smiles curiously.
WENDY
Howdya know what a fuel pump
is, doc?
His focus on the cars breaks for a brief second.
DANNY
Oh. Dad told me about it.
Wendy accepts the answer with doubtful silence and stares
out into the street like her son.
They both sit there quietly, an inch of air between their
knees.
A breeze picks up and then dies.
Danny turns his head to his mother.
DANNY
Mom? Why did dad lose his
job?
Wendy stops twirling the rag and turns to face Danny, her
eyes a bit wide with surprise. She sees his expression of
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matter-of-factness, and that seems to calm her sudden
nerves.
WENDY
Well. You remember your dad
was coaching the debate team?
DANNY
Sure. Arguments for fun.
WENDY
Right. Well, there was a boy
named George who your dad had
to cut from the team.
DANNY
Because he wasnt good
enough?
WENDY
Right. But George thought it
was because your dad just
didnt like him. So then
George
DANNY
Was he the one who cut the
holes in the bugs tires?
WENDY
Right. And your dad caught
him. And...
Wendy cuts herself off, wondering how to frame it, Danny
watching her face somewhat intently.
WENDY
Yknow, sometimes, when your
dad gets mad, he does things
hes sorry for later.
DANNY
Like the time I spilled his
papers?
A pause as Wendy fights every tear she can with hard
success.
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WENDY
Something like that, doc.
Your dad hit George to make
him stop cutting the tires
and George hit his head.
DANNY
Hit dads head?
WENDY
No, I mean he hit his own
head. On the pavement. So
then the men in charge of the
school said your dad couldnt
teach there anymore.
Another pause.
DANNY
Oh.
Danny turns back to the street. Wendy watches his non-
reaction with wonder.
WENDY
Im gonna go back inside,
doc. You wanna come in with
me, have some cookies and a
glass of milk?
DANNY
No thanks, mom. Ill think
Ill watch for dad.
WENDY
Mmkay. I dont think hell be
home much before five,
though.
DANNY
Maybe hell be early.
WENDY
Maybe he will. Alright,
doc...
DANNY
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Mom?
WENDY
Yeah?
DANNYDo you wanna go live in that
hotel for the winter?
WENDY
Uh, well...If its what your
dad wants, its what I want.
What about you?
Danny really gives it honest thought, unlike his mother.
DANNYI guess so. Nobody much to
play with around here,
anyways.
WENDY
Well, there wont really be
anybody to play with up at
the hotel, either, doc.
DANNY
I guess not.
Wendy waits for another question, and when nothing else
comes:
WENDY
Be sure to stay out of the
road, now.
DANNY
Alright, mom.
Wendy walks back up to the house, leaving her son to watch
the passing cars.
FADE TO BLACK
MAN
Now heres yer furnace.
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Watson starts to chuckle but then cuts himself off,
frowning and shaking his head in distaste for a quick
moment.
WATSON
Hell, I shouldnt say thingslike that.
Jack purses his lips into a forgiving smile, but Watson
doesnt see it.
WATSON
Pressure gauge is here...
He taps it.
WATSON...PSI, pounds per square
inch, guess youd know that.
I got her up to a hunerd
now. The rooms get a little
chilly at night, nobody
complains, what the fuck. All
crazy to come up here in
September anyways.
Jack smirks.
WATSON
Youll wanna keep yer press
up to no more an fifty.
Sixty, maybe. Yopen an
close these ducks by pullin
these rings. Got em all
marked for ya. Blues the
east wing, reds the middle,
yellows the west.
JACK
Gotchya.
WATSON
The west gets the worst of
it. When it whoops, those
rooms get colder an a frigid
woman with an ice cube in er
works. An itll whoop, truss
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me.
JACK
Now, the thermostats
upstairs--
WATSON
Juss fer show. These fuckers
down from California dont
think things is right less
its hot enough to grow a
palm tree. All the heat comes
from down here. Gotta watch
the press, tho, she creeps.
Ten years ago? Hell, shed go
fer three weeks an be juss
fine. But now?
Watson taps the mail dial before he positions himself in
front of the pressure wheel. He gives it a hard spin,
dumping the boiler off. It HISSES, loudly, and the needle
drops to ninety-one.
Watson twists the valve shut and wipes his neck.
WATSON
She creeps. Ullman, that lil
peckerwood, hell pull out
the books and tell ya he
cant get a new one till
1982. I just hope that
fuckers here when she blows,
cause this placell go sky-
high when she does. Juss come
down here twice a day an
once at night fore you rack
in, or shell just keep on
creepin.
JACKWhats the top end?
WATSON
Oh, shes rated fer two
fifty, but I wouldnt get
close to er at one eighty.
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JACK
And theres no automatic
shutdown?
WATSON
Heh! You talk to Ullman boutsome automatic shutdown, see
how far ya get. But yall be
just fine. An remember to
switch those ducks around
like he wants. Wont none of
the rooms get much above
forty five, but youll have
yer own apartment juss as
warm as ya like.
JACK
And the plumbing?
WATSON
Oh, off in that corner. The
schematics are right there,
too. If she freezes, use that
lil orange torch over there,
youll find it. But that
dudden happen as much as
youd think.
Looking over toward Watsons referenced pipes, Jack sees
stacks and stacks of towering boxes filled with papers and
books and photos in the corners.
JACK
Whats all that over there?
Watson looks over his shoulder.
WATSON
What, that?
He turns back to Jack.
WATSON
Hell, you could prolly find
every scandal that ever went
down here if ya looked hard
enough. Receipts, newspapers,
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an...well hell, I dunno.
Helluva lotta recyclin, ya
ask me.
JACK
Scandals?
WATSON
Oh, every hotels got its
scandals. Juss like every
hotels got its
superstitions. Heh - juss
like every hotels got its
rats, no matter what that
peckerwood says.
He jabs his thumb at the ceiling.
WATSON
But yknow. So many folks
comin an goin, one or
twos bound to have some
sorta story every now an
then.
Watson leans into Jack a bit and lowers his voice, despite
the fact that no one could hear him if he shouted.
WATSON
Hell, juss last year we had a
woman kill herself up there
in one-a those rooms.
JACK
No shit?
WATSON
Heh, and you can bet yer
pecker Ullman cleaned it up
real nice so no one much
heard about it. Gotta give
the lil fucker credit there,
hell keep things nice an
quiet if they needa be.
JACK
What happened?
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WATSON
Well, here comes this woman,
muss be sixty years old, my
age fer chrissakes, and her
hairs dyed bout as red as a
whores stoplight, tits
saggin down to er belly
button and all. Legs lookin
like a couple-a road maps,
what with all them veins
stretchin around. And shes
got this kid with her! Caint
be no more an nineteen, an
sure as shit aint her son,
yhear? So theyre here a
week, maybe more, same drill
ery night down in the
Colorado Lounge, her suckin
up singapore slings like
theys outlawn em and him
with juss a bottle of
Olympia, suckin at it,
makin it last. Shed be
jokin, sayin all these
witty things and ery time
she said one hed grin juss
like a fuckin ape. Only
after a few days, you could
see it was gettin harder anharder fer him to grin.
Theyd go in to dinner, her
staggerin drunk as a coot,
him flirtin with all the
women when she wuddnt
lookin. Hell, we had bets on
how long the poor kid would
last. Anyways, one night he
leaves, takes that lil
Porsche they came in and
thats the last we see ofim. Next day, she comes down
lookin all pale an such.
Gets worse come evening.
Duddnt eat, juss drinks. All
them singapore slings. Hops
in the tub that night an out
go the lights. Pills, I
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spose, I dunno. But dont
you say nothin now we had
a maid said she saw that
woman in there long after
they took er out. Ullman,
that peckerwood, gave her two
weeks-a walkin papers.
Watson blows his nose.
WATSON
Ullman want you to re-shingle
that rotted part of the roof?
JACK
I believe so, yes.
WATSON
Yeh, hell get all the fer
free outta ya that he can.
Alright, come out back with
me, Ill show ya the shed.
The two men leave, heading up the stairs, after Watson
snaps out the lights with their hanging chains.
FADE TO:
EXT. HOUSE DAY
The sun is setting, and the number of passing cars has
dwindled. Danny still sits on the curb, casually flipping
around that broken balsa glider in his hands.
His eyes wander around a bit now, not as focused on the
street as they once were. He takes a bored peek into the
neighbors yellow lawn, a cat basking in the shadows
underneath a tree, a passing young couple across the way,
one of the old, bright orange roofs.
He focuses on that roof for a moment, not really knowing
why.
Suddenly:
JACK
(V.O.)
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Need to replace those
shingles before it gets too
cold, that Ullman, officious
little prick.
Danny frowns at his fathers curious thoughts, but doesntseem terribly surprised that he heard them. His eyes move
back to the street, though the cars hardly pass anymore.
He sighs, bored. Silence.
TONY
(O.S.)
Danneeeee...
The voice is dark, hoarse, gravelly, melancholic, dying,
distant.
Danny turns his head quickly to the right, seeing a far-off
black silhouette standing on the corner by a stop sign, a
block away.
The silhouette is nothing more than eerie shadow no
features can be made out at all. Its creepily lanky, a
slowly waving hand with bony fingers.
Danny seems relatively unfazed, even nearly happy to see
him, despite the mild monotone horror of the voice.
DANNY
Hi, Tony.
TONY
Danneeeee...
Tony stops waving and whatever remote happiness in Dannys
face fades. The gray in the sky heavies, things get darker.
CUT TO:
EXT. OVERLOOK HOTEL NIGHT
The porch lights of the hotel shine a dull yellow-green
through the fierce onslaught of snow. A lanky silhouette
stands perfectly still in one of the second floor windows,
looking out at the heavy blizzard.
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Silence.
The snow keeps pouring on. As it does, a few small droplets
of blood fall, staining the thick white blanket that covers
a hundred yards. Seconds pass and more red droplets
sprinkle down. They double. A fine bloody mist begins tomix with the airborne flakes, and now half of what is
falling from the sky is purely blood. Thick drops splashing
when they reach the ground, the serene sheet of snow now
reeking with a stark red. More and more silhouettes appear
in all the other windows, all of them now glowing from the
inside, watching the horrific scene with no movement.
A snowflake can no longer be found in the sea of blood.
One by one, shrieks fill the hotel. Within moments, dozens
of them trying to top each other.
CUT TO:
INT. OVERLOOK HALLWAY NIGHT
The shrieks all stop.
Danny sits, terrified, his back to the corner, facing the
rest of the hallway. The hall stretches out for a mile into
the darkness, unending, rows of hundreds of rooms on either
side, a black and white hall rug pattered with snakes and
bones on the floor. The wallpaper is dingy, the lamps by
each door dim.
From the dark, a thick voice begins to yell. LOUD BOOMS
accompany it.
The voice gets louder, closer, darker. Danny crying.
A shadow emerges from the darkness, TOWERING in girth and
height, holding a thick and bloodied roque mallet. The
whole figure is completely shadowed.
BOOM. It slams the mallet into one side of the hallway.
BOOM. The other side.
BOOM. BOOM. Back and forth with each step, clouds of dusty
plaster bursting out of the wall with each hit. Blood
trickles from the gaping holes.
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The figure taking large strides, getting closer and closer,
swinging that mallet into the walls, emitting a horrible
hoarse shriek:
SHADOW
COME HERE! COME HERE, YOULITTLE SHIT! COME HERE AND
TAKE YOUR MEDICINE, YOU
GODDAMED LITTLE PUP!
TAKE...YOUR...MEDICINE!
CUT TO:
EXT. HOUSE DAY
DANNY
Tony, stop it, Tony, no--
Danny catches himself almost crying at no one, back on the
curb at sunset. No one on the block, no passing cars, no
silhouette of Tony down the block.
He tries to collect himself as best as possible, seeing his
balsa glider at his feet and picking it up, wiping his
eyes.
Danny has a few moments to himself.
After a brief breeze tumbles crowds of brown leaves down
the sidewalk, the loud chatter of a car starts approaching.
He looks up to the street and sees the pale yellow bug
heading down the street, his father driving it.
Danny shakes the rest of his horrible thoughts away and
jumps up.
DANNY
Dad! Hi! Hi, dad!
Jack pulls the car in front of the house and gets out.
JACK
Hey, doc!
He picks Danny and up and swings him around in the air. As
he does so, Danny catches a glimpse of Tony down at the
corner, waving.
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Jack sets him down and Danny whirls around to see. Nothing
there anymore.
JACK
Whats a matter, Danny?
DANNY
Nothing. Whatd ya get?
Jack reaches into the passenger seat and pulls out a brown
paper bag.
JACK
Just some groceries. Can you
carry em in?
DANNYSure can!
JACK
There you go Daniel
Torrance, worlds strongest
man.
Jack hands his son the groceries and Danny runs inside as
fast as he can with all the weight. Jack follows him,
closing the car door.
Wendy meets him at the entrance, leaning against the
doorframe after Danny zooms past her. Jack sneaks his arms
around her.
JACK
Hiya, babe.
She smiles and gives in to the hug.
WENDY
Hey you.
A kiss.
WENDY
How was the trip?
JACK
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DANNY
(O.S.)
Hey dad!
JACK
What is it, doc?
Jack and Wendy enter the house and close the door behind
them.
CUT TO:
EXT. REXALL PARKING LOT DAY
The old bug pulls into a parking space and Jack shuts it
off. Dannys in the passenger seat, buckled up tightly.
JACK
Want you to stay in the car,
doc. Ill bring you a candy
bar.
DANNY
Why cant I come in?
JACK
I have to make a phone call.
Its private stuff, you know?
DANNY
Is that why you didnt make
it at home?
JACK
Check.
DANNY
Alright. Can you get me a
Baby Ruth?
JACK
Sure thing. Dont play with
the gearshift, right?
DANNY
Right. Ill look at the maps.
CUT TO:
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INT. PHONEBOOTH DAY
Jack stands there silently, the battered payphone to his
ear, looking out at his son in the car.
The phone rings dully a number of times. Finally, it picks
up.
AL
Hello?
JACK
Al, this is Jack Torrance.
AL
Jacky-boy! How are you?
JACK
Good. I just called to say
thanks. I got the job. Its
perfect. If I cant finish
that goddamn play snowed in
all winter, Ill never finish
it.
AL
Youll finish.
Jack hesitates a second.
JACK
How are things?
So does Al.
AL
Still dry. After that night,
you know.
JACK
Yeah.
AL
You?
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JACK
As a bone.
AL
I sure dont know how you
stayed dry after thatHatfield thing, Jack. That
was above and beyond.
JACK
Yeah, I really bitched things
up for myself.
AL
Oh, hell, Ill have the
school board around by
spring. Effingers already
saying they mighta been too
hasty. That caretaker job
goes well, and youve got
nothing to worry about. And
if that play turns into
something--
JACK
Yeah, listen, my boys out in
the car, Al--
AL
Oh, sure-sure, I wont keep
you. You have a good winter
up there, Jack. Glad to help.
JACK
Thanks again, Al. Stay dry.
AL
Heh. You too, Jacky-boy.
JACK
Always.
Jack hangs up and leaves the phonebooth, heading toward his
car with a small plastic Rexall bag in his hand.
He gets in and produces a Baby Ruth from the bag. He hands
it to Danny, his mind distracted.
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JACK
Here you go, doc.
DANNY
Thanks, dad.
Jack starts the car, his brow furrowed in thought, driving
out of the parking lot. Danny looks at him.
DANNY
Dad?
JACK
Mmhm.
DANNY
When I was waiting for you tocome back from the hotel, I
had a bad dream. Do you
remember? When I was on the
curb?
JACK
Mm.
Danny pauses, watching his father and wondering if he
should continue. He decides against it, opening his candy
bar.
Jack stares straight ahead at the road, his mind elsewhere.
SLOW FADE TO:
INT. ALS JAGUAR NIGHT
Jack, two years younger and dressed in a loosened and
somewhat disheveled suit, is driving. Al Shockley lounges
in the passenger seat.
Both are clearly heavily intoxicated.
AL
Shell never leave you.
JACK
Yeah, she will. Shes...shes
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real strong, yknow? The only
reason shes still here is
because her mothers such a
Grade A bitch. If she had any
other place to go, shed go
there. But she doesnt, so
shes here. But shell leave,
Al. Shell leave me after
what I did.
AL
Chrissakes, Jack, whatd you
do? Youve gotta tell me what
happened.
Jack fidgets in his seat a bit and gives Al a nervous
glance.
He clears his throat as if to say, but doesnt.
What seem like hours of silence pass.
Jacks eyes redden trying to hold back the tears.
JACK
I broke Dannys arm, Al.
Al stares at him grimly. Jack begins to cry.
JACK
I broke my sons arm. I was
drunk, he had spilled all of
my papers all over the floor,
I was just trying to pull
him--
Jacks words are cut off as he gets a brief glimpse of a
childs BICYCLE standing in the middle of the road, less
than a foot ahead of the car traveling forty-five miles an
hour.
Jack slams on the brakes as if it would make a difference.
The horrible grinding sound of tearing metal fills the car,
and both Jack and Al shoot halfway out of their seats.
Something flies over the top of the car, making a muffled
THUD on its way.
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Tires pop on both vehicles.
The Jaguar slides to a final stop, one of the headlights
with a newly shattered cover.
The whole hood is terribly scratched and marked up withburnt rubber. The windshield is cracked on Als side.
They sit in stunned and panicked silence for no more than a
couple seconds.
AL
Jesus, Jack. We ran him down.
I felt it.
They both get out of the car, shaking with fear and
staggering with a lack of sobriety.
The childs bike sits in the middle of the road, terribly
mangled, with one wheel missing. The other one has spokes
sticking into the sky like piano wire. The street is
littered with small pieces of metal and glass debris.
AL
I think thats what we ran
over, Jacky-boy.
JACK
Then wheres the kid?
AL
Did you see a kid?
JACK
Well what was it doing in the
middle of the road, Al? It
wasnt parked on the side, it
was parked right in the
fucking middle!
Al doesnt respond.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET NIGHT
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Up until the sun begins to rise, Jack and Al endlessly scan
every corner and every ditch for any trace of the rider to
no avail.
FADE TO:
INT. HOUSE DAY
Wendy stands at the sink doing dishes, her back to her
husband.
Jack sits at the dining table, a cigarette dangling from
his shaking fingers.
WENDY
Jack, Ive been thinking.
She pauses in case Jack wants to respond, but he doesnt.
WENDY
I want to talk to you
about...about whats best for
me and Danny. For you too,
maybe. I dont know. We
should have talked about it
before, I guess.
JACK
Would you do something for
me? Would you do me a favor?
The question catches Wendy off guard, but she doesnt turn
to face Jack. He sits, staring at her back.
WENDY
...What?
JACK
Lets talk about it a week
from today. If you still want
to.
Wendy turns to him, about ready to lose her patience.
WENDY
Jack, promises dont work
with you. You just go right
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