The Shining

The Overlook

"Help me with the bags," Charlie instructed Anthony.

Anthony nodded and folded a dog-ear in his book so he wouldn't lose his place. He made sure the key he picked was still in his pocket, and he grabbed his backpack and suitcase and walked over to the elevator.

He pressed the button, and he could feel the vibrations of the elevator whirling to life. The door opened, but he had to manually move the old-fashioned gate. He walked in and closed the gate, and the elevator went up to the second floor. He thought it smelled like mothballs and metal, and mildew. It stopped a few inches short of meeting the floor level, but Anthony didn't see this as a problem. He took the step up and walked down the geometric patterned hallway—that almost resembled a cage—to room 217.

He twisted the key into the door and walked in. Immediately, he was hit with the stench of rotten eggs. He brought his free hand up to his nose and his stomach began to twist with disgust. He barely got a few steps into the green themed room before he dropped the bags and ran out the door, sprinting down the stairs to get to his parents.

"What's wrong?" Darla asked. She was concerned by his quickness and the disgusted look on his face.

"That rooms smells horrible. Sewage," he explained with a sour look frozen on his features to express his repugnance.

"Where are your bags?" Charlie asked.

"In the room. I dropped them."

Charlie groaned and spoke out loud while he signed angrily to his son, "fan-fucking-tastic. Now they're going to smell like shit and I have to fucking grab them."

Darla looked to her husband in dismay. She asked, "what's your problem?"

Charlie snapped his head to Darla and nearly shouted, "he always fucks up!"

"Charlie!" Darla shouted just as loud. They looked at each other and Charlie's face relaxed some.

He realized what he had said and he quickly apologized, "god, I'm sorry. I think I'm just tired."

Darla sighed and signed, "maybe we should all get some sleep. We've been driving all day and the weather isn't helping with our moods."

Charlie turned to Anthony and asked calmly, "you said the room smells bad?"

Anthony balled his fist and nodded it up and down to say yes. He was a little unnerved by his fathers sudden snappy attitude, but tried not to read too much into it.

Charlie ran his fingers through his light brown hair and then signed, "okay. Pick a new room. Go on."

Anthony ran back to the desk, leaving his parents at the base of the stairs with their bags surrounding them. Darla looked to Charlie, and had no idea what was going on with him. He was never short with his family. He loved them more than he loved himself. Even at his worst, he never rose his voice to his family or expressed anything to show anything other than unconditional love. This new personality trait was not one that she would care to meet again.

Anthony came running back, and tossed the keys in the air. Charlie caught it and looked at the room number. He handed it to Darla and said, "you two, go up to the room. I'll grab the bags from 217."

Darla agreed, and she and Anthony walked up to the room on the third floor, which just so happened to be the winter caretakers room.

Charlie walked up the stairs, slowly but surely, and walked over to room 217. The key was stuck in the door, and the door was propped open. He walked in and noticed wet footprints in the peacock carpet that covered the massive room.