Tales from the Overlook

Permit Them a Moment of Softness

It hadn't yet ticked over a month since the Torrance family had arrived at the Overlook Hotel, and things had gradually slipped into a routine. When they had arrived, there was a doubt that such a grandiose, extravagantly large building could have ever become homey, but for the daunting room count and labyrinthine corridors, it had managed to become more familiar. Perhaps it really was the start of something good.

At the very least, Jack had began writing again.

So caught up in his wordsmithing, he had quite completely lost track of the time, but it wasn't just the time that he had lost, but at that moment even the world itself had fallen away, replaced by the world being formed with each click of the typewriter.
Why must it be worlds between the heres and the theres? He knew precisely where he wanted to take the play, and knew the stepping stones to get there, but the words it look to bridge the gap seemed to be waiting just out of reach at that moment, no matter how he begged for them to come to him.
So very engrossed in his writing, Jack didn't notice that he was no longer the only person in the room. In fact, despite the slight echo that the hallway had, he missed the sound of the door opening, and missed the following footsteps. Didn't notice that there was anyone but himself there until the person happened to attempt to hug him, which was not the easiest feat to achieve given the position he'd gotten into as he was typing away.
Absentmindedly, he moved a hand up and away from the typewriter, only to gently lay it rest on one of the arms of the person. It was not a surprise that a glance revealed the person to be Wendy. In fact it'd be far more puzzling if it wasn't, given that there was only the three of them there, and the third was a child.
There would be a time when these sorts of interruptions would spark nothing but anger in the man, an anger that was irrational and if he tried to think on the matter he couldn't have rightly explained why it would come at such a ferocity, but at that moment a sincere smile crossed his face as he gazed up at her, his attention leaving the pages, leaving the school teacher whose world he was creating, leaving the lines he was working on unfinished for the moment.

The writing could come later, and he would finish what he was writing come hell or high water, but at that very moment he had far more important matters for him to attend to.

"I was gonna make Danny a snack, if you wanted me to bring you any? You've been holed up in here all by yourself for hours now," Wendy began, the second sentence taking on a jokingly scolding tone, "Its about time you gave yourself a break."

"It's been hours now?" he asked in return, blinking a bit as he cast his attention over to the window. It was such a large thing, the window was, so it was a sure sign of his inattentiveness, for the sunlight that was pouring in through the glass had taken on a distinctly golden light, which was definitely not the same crisp afternoon light that it had been when he had settled down.
That had to be a good sign, making a few hours' worth of progress was more than he'd managed in quite a while. This was more than enough to solidify the smile upon his lips.
"I think that deserves a stretch of the ol' legs, at the very least."

Seeing a real, earnest smile upon her husband's face brought such a flooding sense of relief that Wendy was surprised it didn't knock her off her feet. She'd been worrying about him, worrying about herself, and worrying about them for so long that she'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have even a little of it released.
"Maybe you can help me then, eh, hon?"

"'s long as I don't get in the way." Jack joked, a very present twinkle in his eyes.

"If you don't," said she, "Then maybe we could take a walk after? The clouds are looking awful ominous so I don't think we'll get that much of a chance to see the grounds for all too much longer."

This was definitely no exaggeration or mere stretch of the imagination, for the clouds were rolling in and building a looming mass of grey-purple that could mean nothing but the snow that they had been forewarned would come, closing off their world to the little island that the hotel would then inevitably come. It would be as much marvellous as it would be terrifying. The isolation would be far more serious, as at that moment they could still take the trip into the nearest town, even if it was a trek and a half, but soon even that would no longer be a practical option.
Best make the most of the opportunity they had before it was gone, swallowed up in a mountain of snow.

"I'd like that, Wendy my love, I'd like that."