Orange-State Phantoms {The Shining}

A Story by Abishai100

Adaptation ('fanfiction') of Kubrick's adaptation (cinema) of Stephen King's hotel-hauntings/domesticated-sanity tale...concerning a sports-themed writer who comes-undone with his (own) telepathy.

An adaptation of Kubrick's searing look into the shaping of the psyche, brought on by superstitions of the dark-side of the universe, The Shining (Stephen King), which I hope you'll like (and thanks so much for reading!),

DISCLAIMER: This work of 'fanfiction' offers no ties to the referenced film of inspiration and is therefore cast as purely a 'personal' expression of social theater (for 'open' reviews).

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MR. AMLAN SATAN: "My summer-stay at a Miami 'hostel' is a haven for writer's view(s), friend."

PUBLISHER: It's what you need, Satan...post-divorce...your great work on unrequited daydreams!

SATAN: Perchance this finds me in an age of Reason, for in-house walled image for sports, friend.

PUBLISHER: It's what you need, Satan...post-divorce...your conceived-IQ of a failed athlete (USA).

SATAN: Perchance I find that summertime note of why superstitions cast 'doubt' for immortality, ha.

PUBLISHER: Good luck, Facebook-like.

Amlan Satan put-aside his youthful-fancy that his lifelong pursuit of athletics-hobbies, with certain pronounced excellence(s), in varied arenas, including tennis, hockey, soccer, cross-country, and fencing made him a future Olympian, but he never made it, cripped after an accident, forcing him to indulge in his one-other hobby on Earth...writing. He decided to move himself to an Orange-State 'hostel' (Wingate), where he'd find room-inspiration to 'chess-tie' superstitions of American Dream vanities with isolationist-meditation, but he never disclosed his dark-secret...his 'uncanny' ability to sense the presence of ghosts (not Facebook-like).

CONCIERGE: We're so eager for your 'hostel'-stay here, sir, in Miami, as you can see our comforts.

SATAN: Thanx, Charlie, friend; I've found a wonderwall-arena for this sports-daydream work.

CONCIERGE: Have you titled it, sir (if we may ask)?

SATAN: I think so, Charlie...it's gonna be called The Future Hostel (ha).

CONCIERGE: Sounds grand ('Facebook-like').

SATAN: Thanx, for everything.

STORY_EXCERPT: "Chapter 2 (The Lost Coaching)...Amlan looked to his memory of being coached, and why he always preferred to 'chess-tie' education in fitness/athletics in the Western 'worldly' incomplete-distances readings of life-drawn bureaucracy-confidence which he insisted would make him 'fantastic' for media-diplomacy once he reached celebrity; but he feared every time, while young, he departed from a given arena/sport/coach/field, he'd encounter the haunting ghosts of this memory of lost coaching...for the Ego."

SATAN: I'm not lying, you fool!

CONCIERGE: Good-friend, I shan't indulge your now-unwinding 'psychic' view of ghosts.

SATAN: This darned 'hostel' is filled to the bucket(s) with teeming phantoms of Hell!

CONCIERGE: Mr. Satan...this is a Miami 'institution'...convenience (airport) for guests for normalcy.

SATAN: These damned phantoms insist each represent some lost dream of a sport that eluded me.

CONCIERGE: Me thinks you've translated some ghost-IQ for your own (writing) into made fantasy.

SATAN: When I vanish (from Earth), you tell my publisher (Freddy Rogers) that this was Facebook-like.

CONCIERGE: Thanx (bureaucracy-art).

Mr. Amlan Satan vanished from Earth, and no one knew the reason, and his publisher (Mr. Rogers) was furious, convinced his 'hostel-station' staff was poorly-responsible for celebrity-communications. For some (unknown) reason, Amlan threw a sports-doll from his high-level suite-window down to the 'hostel' (Wingate) summer-pool; and he left some 'notation-items' behind (alongside his notes/scribbles of his unfinished novel about sports-daydreams forever lost --- The Future Hostel).

PUBLISHER: I demand to know the meaning of this vanishing.

DETECTIVE: We're simply doubtful any clue surfaces, Freddy!

PUBLISHER: Why this Super Bowl football card trophy left-behind?

DETECTIVE: We've an ('insider') joke, he's 'melded' with the dark-side of Orange-State Phantoms!

PUBLISHER: I hope you're (incompletely) close.

DETECTIVE: He was a great writer.

PUBLISHER: We know (thanx)...Facebook-like.

CONCIERGE: He left items; notes/recipes; (Indian) luchi-bread thanksgiving-diner plate chat(s).

INTERVIEW: Anything else (for Orange-State distances)?

CONCIERGE: Something about Upper-Deck trophy-fantasy (football-card 'field goals').

INTERVIEW: Why this hospitality-reading?
CONCIERGE: Perchance he was satisfied, we think, friend.

INTERVIEW: Thanx, Charlie...for everything.

Why'd Satan vanish (from the 'fare-rich' Earth)? What would his novel have revealed about incomplete-distances readings to the lost art of the American Dreams? Why'd he leave-behind lifestyle poignant items for value(s) in his 'hostel' (Wingate) suite, including a vigilantism-youth avatar (DC) doodle (for the Ego)? Did his Miami-phantoms 'encounters' drawn from his (secret/undisclosed telepathy) draw him to the other-side of the (known) universe, of immortality-IQ? We'll never know, but we do know that this was a 'shining' portrait of the lines bonding darkness...with superstitions-dialysis (for sports or 'American' doctorates).