just

reached　the　end　and　the　cold　spill　of　light　ing　down　from　above　when　the　snow

did　give　in；　a　minor　fall；　but　enough　to　powder　his　face　and　clog　the　opening　he

had　wriggled　down　through　and　leave　him　in　darkness。

For　a　moment　his　brain　froze　in　utter　panic　and　he　could　not　think。　Then；　as

if　from　far　off；　he　heard　his　daddy　telling　him　that　he　must　never　play　at　the

Stovington　dump；　because　sometimes　stupid　people　hauled　old　refrigerators　off　to

the　dump　without　removing　the　doors　and　if　you　got　in　one　and　the　door　happened

to　shut　on　you；　there　was　no　way　to　get　out。　You　would　die　in　the　darkness。

（You　wouldn't　want　a　thing　like　that　to　happen　to　you；　would　you；　doc？）

（No；　Daddy。）

But　it　had　happened；　his　frenzied　mind　told　him；　it　had　happened；　he　was　in

the　dark；　he　was　closed　in；　and　it　was　as　cold　as　a　refrigerator。　And　—

（something　is　in　here　with　me。）

His　breath　stopped　in　a　gasp。　An　almost　drowsy　terror　stole　through　his　veins。

Yes。　Yes。　There　was　something　in　here　with　him；　some　awful　thing　the　Overlook

had　saved　for　just　such　a　chance　as　this。　Maybe　a　huge　spider　that　had　burrowed

down　under　the　dead　leaves；　or　a　rat　。。。　or　maybe　the　corpse　of　some　little

kid　that　had　died　here　on　the　playground。　Had　that　ever　happened？　Yes；　he

thought　maybe　it　had。　He　thought　of　the　woman　in　the　tub。　The　blood　and　brains

on　the　wall　of　the　Presidential　Sweet。　Of　some　little　kid；　its　head　split　open

from　a　fall　from　the　monkey　bars　or　a　swing；　crawling　after　him　in　the　dark；

grinning；　looking　for　one　final　playmate　in　its　endless　playground。　Forever。　In

a　moment　he　would　hear　it　ing。

At　the　far　end　of　the　co