The Shining
Last year I've read Stephen King's novel "The Shining". I've noticed some short phrases. But these phrases have a second meaning and they all have something in common. Find out the common ground (one word) and build the iterative (single-digit) sum of digits. So you can find out A, B, C, D, E and F.
Content of the Box: logbook, pen
A=... (high hopes), B=... (out of the darkness), C=... (the shining), D=... (wasting my time), E=... (loss of control), F=... (look around)
And so you can calculate the finalkoords:
N 46° 4 (A-B) , (E+D) (F) (C-D)
E 014° 1 (A+D) , (B+E) (C) (F)
Beim Lesen des Romans sind mir einige Phrasen aufgefallen, die auch noch eine andere Bedeutung haben, und auch eine Gemeinsamkeit - in dieser wiederum jeweils ein Wort - , finde Dieses und bilde daraus die iterative (einstellige) Quersumme.
Inhalt der Box: Logbuch, Stift
Um die nahegelegenen Anrainer nicht zuviel zu strapazieren, bitte nicht ganz bis zur Cachelocation fahren, sondern die letzten paar Meter zu fuß gehen, Danke.
PS: um ev. Unklarheiten zu beseitigen, muß gesagt werden, dass Gemeinsamkeit B nicht fünf Buchstaben haben sollte. Zufälligerweise kommt man aber mit der zweiten möglichen Gemeinsamkeit - diese hat vier Buchstaben - auch auf die Gleiche iterative Quersumme! Danke für den Hinweis an dieser Stelle!
FTF: Katzenhai, Silberschakal. Meine Gratulation!
Excerpts of this novel with the marked phrases stand below.
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crossed the spectrum from rosy pink to dead black.She said: "If it's what your father wants, it's what I want." She paused."What about you?""I guess I do," he said finally. "Nobody much to play with around here.""You miss your friends, don't you?""Sometimes I miss Scott and Andy. That's about all."She went back to him and kissed him, rumpled his lightcolored hair that wasjust losing its baby-fineness. He was such a solemn little boy, and sometimesshe wondered just how he was supposed to survive with her and Jack for parents.The high hopes they had begun with came down to this unpleasant apartmentbuilding in a city they didn't know. The image of Danny in his cast rose upbefore her again. Somebody in the Divine Placement Service had made a mistake ,one she sometimes feared could never be corrected and which only the mostinnocent bystander could pay for."Stay out of the road, doc," she said, and hugged him tight."Sure, Mom."She went upstairs and into the kitchen. She put on the teapot and laid acouple of Oreos on a plate for Danny in case he decided to come up while she waslying down. Sitting at the table with her big pottery cup in front of her, shelooked out the window at him, still sitting on the curb in his bluejeans and hisover-sized dark green Stovington Prep sweatshirt, the glider now lying besidehim. The tears which had threatened all day now came in a cloudburst and sheleaned into the fragrant, curling steam of the tea and wept. In grief and lossfor the past, and terror of the future.
WATSON
You lost your temper, Ullman had said."Okay, here's your furnace," Watson said, turning on a light in the dark,musty-smelling room. He was a beefy man with fluffy popcorn hair, white shirt,and dark green chinos. He swung open a small square grating in the furnace'sbelly and he and Jack peered in together. "This here's the pilot light." Asteady blue-white jet hissing steadily upward channeled destructive force, butthe key word, Jack thought, was destructive and not channeled: if you stuck yourhand in there, the barbecue would happen in three quick seconds.Lost your temper.(Danny, are you all right?)The furnace filled the entire room, by far the biggest and oldest Jack hadever seen."The pilot's got a fail-safe," Watson told him. "Little sensor in there
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The mechanical roaring sound, which he now recognized as the boiler at theOverlook which Daddy checked three or four times every day, had developed anominous, rhythmic hitching. It began to sound like ... like pounding. And thesmell of mildew and wet, rotting paper was changing to something else — the high,junipery smell of the Bad Stuff. It hung around his daddy like a vapor as hereached for the book ... and grasped it.Tony was somewhere in the darkness(This inhuman place makes human monsters. This inhuman place)repeating the same incomprehensible thing over and over.(makes human monsters.)Falling through darkness again, now accompanied by the heavy, pounding thunderthat was no longer the boiler but the sound of a whistling mallet striking silkpaperedwalls, knocking out whiffs of plaster dust. Crouching helplessly on theblue-black woven jungle rug.(Come out)(This inhuman place)(and take your medicine!)(makes human monsters.)With a gasp that echoed in his own head he jerked himself out of the darkness.Hands were on him and at first he shrank back, thinking that the dark thing inthe Overlook of Tony's world had somehow followed him back into the world ofreal things — and then Dr. Edmonds was saying: "You're all right, Danny. You'reall right. Everything is fine."Danny recognized the doctor, then his surroundings in the office. He began toshudder helplessly. Edmonds held him.When the reaction began to subside, Edmonds asked, "You said something aboutmonsters, Danny — what was it?""This inhuman place," he said gutturally. "Tony told me... this inhumanplace ... makes ... makes ..." He shook his head. "Can't remember.""Try!""I can't.""Did Tony come?""Yes.""What did he show you?""Dark. Pounding. I don't remember.""Where were you?""Leave me alone! I don't remember! Leave me alone!" He began to sob helplesslyin fear and frustration. It was all gone, dissolved into a sticky mess like awet bundle of paper, the memory unreadable.Edmonds went to the water cooler and got him a paper cup of water. Danny drankit and Edmonds got him another one."Better?""Yes.""Danny, I don't want to badger you ... tease you about this, I mean. But canyou remember anything about before Tony came?""My mommy," Danny said slowly. "She's worried about me.""Mothers always are, guy.""No ... she had a sister that died when she was a little girl. Aileen. She
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was thinking about how Aileen got hit by a car and that made her worried aboutme. I don't remember anything else."Edmonds was looking at him sharply. "Just now she was thinking that? Out inthe waiting room?""Yes, sir.""Danny, how would you know that?""I don't know," Danny said wanly. "The shining, I guess.""The what?"Danny shook his head very slowly. "I'm awful tired. Can't I go see my mommyand daddy? I don't want to answer any more questions. I'm tired. And my stomachhurts.""Are you going to throw up?""No, sir. I just want to go see my mommy and daddy.""Okay, Dan." Edmonds stood up. "You go on out and see them for a minute, thensend them in so I can talk to them. Okay?.""Yes, sir.""There are books out there to look at. You like books, don't you?""Yes, sir," Danny said dutifully."You're a good boy, Danny."Danny gave him a faint smile.* * *"I can't find a thing wrong with him," Dr. Edmonds said to the Torrances. "Notphysically. Mentally, he's bright and rather too imaginative. It happens.Children have to grow into their imaginations like a pair of oversized shoes.Danny's is still way too big for him. Ever had his IQ tested?""I don't believe in them," Jack said. "They straight-jacket the expectationsof both parents and teachers."Dr. Edmonds nodded. "That may be. But if you did test him, I think you'd findhe's right off the scale for his age group. His verbal ability, for a boy who isfive going on six, is amazing.""We don't talk down to him," Jack said with a trace of pride."I doubt if you've ever had to in order to make yourself understood." Edmondspaused, fiddling with a pen. "He went into a trance while I was with him. At myrequest. Exactly as you described him in the bathroom last night. All hismuscles went lax, his body slumped, his eyeballs rotated outward. Textbook autohypnosis.I was amazed. I still am."The Torrances sat forward. "What happened?" Wendy asked tensely, and Edmondscarefully related Danny's trance, the muttered phrase from which Edmonds hadonly been able to pluck the word "monsters," the "dark," the "pounding." Theaftermath of tears, near-hysteria, and nervous stomach."Tony again," Jack said."What does it mean?" Wendy asked. "Have you any idea?""A few. You might not like them.""Go ahead anyway," Jack told him."From what Danny told me, his `invisible friend' was truly a friend until youfolks moved out here from New England. Tony has only become a threatening figure
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anyway? Or do you think there are ghosts parading up and down the halls of thewest wing wearing bedsheets and crying 'Woe!'?""No, I don't think there are any ghosts. But you raked up a lot of my personalhistory before you gave me the job. You had me on the carpet, quizzing me aboutmy ability to take care of your hotel like a little boy in front of theteacher's desk for peeing in the coatroom. You embarrassed me.""I just do not believe your cheek, your bloody damned impertinence," Ullmansaid. He sounded as if he might be choking. "I'd like to sack you. And perhaps Iwill.""I think Al Shockley might object. Strenuously.""And I think you may have finally overestimated Mr. Shockley's commitment toyou, Mr. Torrance."For a moment Jack's headache came back in all its thudding glory, and heclosed his eyes against the pain. As if from a distance away he heard himselfask: "Who owns the Overlook now? Is it still Derwent Enterprises? Or are you toosmallfry to know?""I think that will do, Mr. Torrance. You are an employee of the hotel, nodifferent from a busboy or a kitchen pot scrubber. I have no intention of — ""Okay, I'll write Al," Jack said. "He'll know; after all, he's on the Board ofDirectors. And I might just add a little P.S. to the effect that — ""Derwent doesn't own it.""What? I couldn't quite make that out.""I said Derwent doesn't own it. The stockholders are all Easterners. Yourfriend Mr. Shockley owns the largest block of stock himself, better than thirtyfiveper cent. You would know better than I if he has any ties to Derwent.""Who else?""I have no intention of divulging the names of the other stockholders to you,Mr. Torrance. I intend to bring this whole matter to the attention of — ""One other question.""I am under no obligation to you.""Most of the Overlook's history — savory and unsavory alike — I found in ascrapbook that was in the cellar. Big thing with white leather covers. Goldthread for binding. Do you have any idea whose scrapbook that might be?""None at all.""Is it possible it could have belonged to Grady? The caretaker who killedhimself?""Mr. Torrance," Ullman said in tones of deepest frost, "I am by no means surethat Mr. Grady could read, let alone dig out the rotten apples you have been wasting my time with.""I'm thinking of writing a book about the Overlook Hotel. I thought if Iactually got through it, the owner of the scrapbook would like to have anacknowledgment at the front.""I think writing a book about the Overlook would be very unwise," Ullman said."Especially a book done from your ... uh, point of view.""Your opinion doesn't surprise me." His headache was all gone now. There hadbeen that one flash of pain, and that was all. His mind felt sharp and accurate,all the way down to millimeters. It was the way he usually felt only when thewriting was going extremely well or when he had a threedrink buzz on. That was
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CATATONIC
Wendy ran down the hall in her stocking feet and ran down the main stairs tothe lobby two at a time. She didn't look up at the carpeted flight that led tothe second floor, but if she had, she would have seen Danny standing at the topof them, still and silent, his unfocused eyes directed out into indifferentspace, his thumb in his mouth, the collar and shoulders of his shirt damp. Therewere puffy bruises on his neck and just below his chin.Jack's cries had ceased, but that did nothing to ease her fear. Ripped out ofher sleep by his voice, raised in that old hectoring pitch she remembered sowell, she still felt that she was dreaming — but another part knew she was awake,and that terrified her more. She half-expected to burst into the office and findhim standing over Danny's sprawled-out body, drunk and confused.She pushed through the door and Jack was standing there, rubbing at histemples with his fingers. His face was ghostwhite. The two-way CB radio lay athis feet in a sprinkling of broken glass."Wendy?" he asked uncertainly. "Wendy — ?"The bewilderment seemed to grow and for a moment she saw his true face, theone he ordinarily kept so well hidden, and it was a face of desperateunhappiness, the face of an animal caught in a snare beyond its ability todecipher and render harmless. Then the muscles began to work, began to writheunder the skin, the mouth began to tremble infirmly, the Adam's apple began torise and fall.Her own bewilderment and surprise were overlaid by shock: he was going to cry.She had seen him cry before, but never since he stopped drinking ... and neverin those days unless he was very drunk and pathetically remorseful. He was atight man, drum-tight, and his loss of control frightened her all over again.He came toward her, the tears brimming over his lower lids now, his headshaking involuntarily as if in a fruitless effort to ward off this emotionalstorm, and his chest drew in a convulsive gasp that was expelled in a huge,racking sob. His feet, clad in Hush Puppies, stumbled over the wreck of theradio and he almost fell into her arms, making her stagger back with his weight.His breath blew into her face and there was no smell of liquor on it. Of coursenot; there was no liquor up here."What's wrong?" She held him as best she could. "Jack, what is it?"But he could do nothing at first but sob, clinging to her, almost crushing thewind from her, his head turning on her shoulder in that helpless, shaking,warding-off gesture. His sobs were heavy and fierce. He was shuddering all over,his muscles jerking beneath his plaid shirt and jeans."Jack? What? Tell me what's wrong!"At last the sobs began to change themselves into words, most of themincoherent at first, but coming clearer as his tears began to spend themselves."... dream, I guess it was a dream, but it was so real, I...it was my mother saying that Daddy was going to be on the radio and I ...
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He picked up the gascan and struggled over to the snowmobile. Hisconsciousness seemed to be flickering in and out, offering him cuttings andsnippets of home movies but never the whole picture. In one of these he wasaware of yanking the snowmobile back onto its tread and then sitting on it, outof breath and incapable of moving for a few moments. In another, he wasreattaching the gascan, which was still half-full. His head was thumpinghorribly from the gasfumes (and in reaction to his battle with the hedge lion,he supposed), and he saw by the steaming hole in the snow beside him that he hadvomited, but he was unable to remember when.The snowmobile, the engine still warm, fired immediately. He twisted thethrottle unevenly and started forward with a series of neck-snapping jerks thatmade his head ache even more fiercely. At first the snowmobile wove drunkenlyfrom side to side, but by half-standing to get his face above the windscreen andinto the sharp, needling blast of the wind, he drove some of the stupor out ofhimself. He opened the throttle wider.(Where are the rest of the hedge animals?)He didn't know, but at least he wouldn't be caught unaware again.The Overlook loomed in front of him, the lighted first-floor windows throwinglong yellow rectangles onto the snow. The gate at the foot of the drive waslocked and he dismounted after a wary look around, praying he hadn't lost hiskeys when he pulled his lighter out of his pocket ... no, they were there. Hepicked through them in the bright light thrown by the snowmobile headlamp. Hefound the right one and unsnapped the padlock, letting it drop into the snow. Atfirst he didn't think he was going to be able to move the gate anyway; he pawedfrantically at the snow surrounding it, disregarding the throbbing agony in hishead and the fear that one of the other lions might be creeping up behind him.He managed to pull it a foot and a half away from the gatepost, squeezed intothe gap, and pushed. He got it to move another two feet, enough room for thesnowmobile, and threaded it through.He became aware of movement ahead of him in the dark. The hedge animals, allof them, were clustered at the base of the Overlook's steps, guarding the wayin, the way out. The lions prowled. The dog stood with its front paws on thefirst step.Hallorann opened the throttle wide and the snowmobile leaped forward, puffingsnow up behind it. In the caretaker's apartment, Jack Torrance's head jerkedaround at the high, wasplike buzz of the approaching engine, and suddenly beganto move laboriously toward the hallway again. The bitch wasn't important now.The bitch could wait. Now it was this dirty nigger's turn. This dirty,interfering nigger with his nose in where it didn't belong. First him and thenhis son. He would show them. He would show them that ... that he ... that hewas of managerial timber!Outside, the snowmobile rocketed along faster and faster. The hotel seemed tosurge toward it. Snow flew in Hallorann's face. The headlamp's oncoming glarespotlighted the hedge shepherd's face, its blank and socketless eyes.Then it shrank away, leaving an opening. Hallorann yanked at the snowmobile'ssteering gear with all his remaining strength, and it kicked around in a sharpsemicircle, throwing up clouds of snow, threatening to tip over. The rear endstruck the foot of the porch steps and rebounded. Hallorann was off in a flash