blue and yellow。 〃Is this？〃 A green party streamer； faded to a pale pastel color
with age。
〃And this？〃
She tossed it out and it came to rest on the blue…black jungle carpet； a black
silk cat's…eye mask； dusted with sequins at the temples。
〃Does that look like a short circuit to you； Jack？〃 she screamed at him。
Jack stepped slowly away from it； shaking his head mechanically back and
forth。 The cat's…eye mask stared up blankly at the ceiling from the confetti…
strewn hallway carpet。
》
THE BALLROOM
It was the first of December。
Danny was in the east…wing ballroom； standing on an over…stuffed； high…backed
wing chair； looking at the clock under glass。 It stood in the center of the
ballroom's high； ornamental mantelpiece； flanked by two large ivory elephants。
He almost expected the elephants would begin to move and try to gore him with
their tusks as he stood there； but they were moveless。 They were 〃safe。〃 Since
the night of the elevator he had e to divide all things at the Overlook into
two categories。 The elevator； the basement； the playground； Room 217； and the
Presidential Suite （it was Suite； not Sweet； he had seen the correct spelling in
an account book Daddy had been reading at supper last night and had memorized it
carefully） — those places were 〃unsafe。〃 Their quarters； the lobby； and the porch
were 〃safe。〃 Apparently the ballroom was； too。
（The elephants are； anyway。）
He was not sure about other places and so avoided them on general principle。
He looked at the clock inside the glass dome。 It was under glass because all
its wheels and cogs and springs were showing。 A chrome or steel track ran around
the outside of these works； and directly below the clockface there was a small
axis bar with a pair of meshing cogs at either end。 The hands of the clock stood
at quarter past XI； and although he didn't know Roman numerals he could guess by
the configuration of the hands at what time the clock had stopped。 The clock
stood on a velvet base。 In front of it； slightly distorted by the curve of the
dome； was a carefully carved silver key。
He supposed that the clock was one of the things he wasn't supposed to touch；
like the decorative fire…tools in their brass…bound cabinet by the lobby
fireplace or the tall china highboy at the back of the dining room。
A sense of injustice and a feeling of angry rebellion suddenly rose in him and
（never mind what i'm not supposed to touch； just never mind。 touched me；
hasn't it？ played with me； hasn't it？）
It had。 And it hadn't been particularly careful not to break him； either。
Danny put his hands out； grasped the glass dome； and lifted it aside。 He let
one finger play over the works for a moment； the pad of his index finger denting
against the cogs； running smoothly over the wheels。 He picked up the silver key。
For an adult it would have been unfortably small； but it fitted his own
fingers perfectly。 He placed it in the keyhole at the center of the clockface。
It went firmly home with a tiny click； more felt than heard。 It wound to the
right； of course； clockwise。
Danny turned the key until it would turn no more and then removed it。 The
clock began to tick。 Cogs turned。 A large balance wheel rocked back and forth in
semicircles。 The hands were moving。 If you kept your head perfectly motionless
and your eyes wide open； you could see the minute hand inching along toward its
meeting some forty…five minutes from now with the hour hand。 At XII。
（And the Red Death held sway over all。）
He frowned； and then shook the thought away。 It was a thought with no meaning
or reference for him。
He reached his index finger out again and pushed the minute band up to the
hour； curious about what might happen。 It obviously wasn't a cuckoo clock； but
that steel rail had to have some purpose。
There was a small； ratcheting series of clicks； and then the clock began to
tinkle Strauss's 〃Blue Danube Waltz。〃 A punched roll of cloth no more than two
inches in width began to unwind。 A small series of brass strikers rose and fell。
From behind the clockface two figures glided into view along the steel track；
ballet dancers； on the left a girl in a fluffy skirt and white stockings； on the
right a boy in a black leotard and ballet slippers。 Their hands were held in
arches over their beads。 They came together in the middle； in front of VI。
Danny espied tiny grooves in their sides； just below their armpits。 The axis
bar slipped into these grooves and he heard another small click。 The cogs at
either end of the bar began to turn。 〃The Blue Danube〃 tinkled。 The dancers'
arms came down around each other。 The boy flipped the girl up over his head and
then whirled over the bar。 They were now lying prone； the boy's head buried
beneath the girl's short ballet skirt； the girl's face pressed against the
center of the boy's leotard。 They writhed in a mechanical frenzy。
Danny's nose wrinkled。 They were kissing peepees。 That made him feel sick。
A moment later and things began to run backward。 The boy whirled back over the
axis bar。 He flipped the girl into an upright position。 They seemed to nod
knowingly at each other as their hands arched back over their heads。 They
retreated the way they had e； disappearing just as 〃The Blue Danube〃
finished。 The clock began to strike a count of silver chimes。
（Midnight！ Stroke of midnight！）
（Hooray for masks！）
Danny whirled on the chair； almost falling down。 The ballroom was empty。
Beyond the double cathedral window he could see fresh snow beginning to sift
down。 The huge ballroom rug （rolled up for dancing； of course）； a rich tangle of
red and gold embroidery； lay undisturbed on the floor。 Spaced around it were
small； intimate tables for two； the spidery chairs that went with each upended
with legs pointing at the ceiling。
The whole place was empty。
But it wasn't really empty。 Because here in the Overlook things just went on
and on。 Here in the Overlook all times were one。 There was an endless night in
August of 1945； with laughter and drinks and a chosen shining few going up and
ing down in the elevator； drinking champagne and popping party favors in each
other's faces。 It was a not…yet…light morning in June some twenty years later
and the organization hitters endlessly pumped shotgun shells into the torn and
bleeding bodies of three men who went through their agony endlessly。 In a room
on the second floor a woman lolled in her tub and waited for visitors。
In the Overlook all things had a sort of life。 It was as if the whole place
had been wound up with a silver key。 The clock was running。 The clock was
running。
He was that key； Danny thought sadly。 Tony had warned him and he had just let
things go on。
（I'm just five！）
he cried to some half…felt presence in the room。
（Doesn't it make any deference that I'm just five？）
There was no answer。
He turned reluctantly back to the clock。
He had been putting it off； hoping that something would happen to help him
avoid trying