"Boss, the revenue from all of Ghost Films's various IPs has been extremely high these past weeks. Also, there are a few matters you need to be aware of. And one more thing — several directors have submitted applications requesting permission to use the company's ultra-high-definition cameras."
Upon returning to Ghost Films, Zoroark immediately latched onto Edward and began chattering nonstop. Edward listened until his head started to throb. This Pokémon could really talk to a degree that practically defied reason. Edward had never seen anyone who could talk quite this much.
But Edward also felt a little guilty, because he knew very well why Zoroark had so much to say. The real reason was that Edward himself hadn't dealt with the studio's affairs for quite a long time. Even so, Edward felt helpless — he had too many things to handle lately. For example… that troublesome Deoxys.
Its existence was complicated and unusual. They had nearly ended up fighting when they first met. But aside from Deoxys, the thing Edward cared even more about was that mysterious island — the island with strange and special conditions. He remained deeply curious about it. Unfortunately, he hadn't brought any tracking devices last time, which meant he had no way of locating the island now.
"Alright, all of those applications can be approved. And… about this." Edward's expression turned a little odd as he looked down at the document in his hand. "You're saying Old Man Kirk intends to recommend a younger member of his family to direct an adaptation of The Shining?"
Old Man Kirk recommending a junior wasn't strange at all. After all, as Edward often said, as long as human interaction existed in this world, relationships and personal connections would always be unavoidable. Unless someone lived completely isolated from society, never interacting with anyone, interpersonal obligations were simply part of life.
So Old Man Kirk sending someone over for a recommendation was understandable. Edward didn't find it strange in the slightest.
"But The Shining, huh?" Edward took the script, glanced at it twice, and confirmed that it was indeed the same story he remembered from his previous life. As for The Shining, there wasn't much to say. Although it was technically a horror film, Edward never found it particularly frightening. It did, however, produce several iconic scenes.
The most iconic ones were, of course, the twin ghosts and the torrent of blood flooding the hallway — scenes that had been referenced countless times by later works. And of course, the most famous of all: the axe breaking down the door, followed by the classic line, "Here's Johnny!" A line so well-known that almost anyone could recognize it instantly.
The biggest controversy around The Shining was whether it was truly scary.
Most people had heard its famous reputation, went to watch it with high expectations, but afterwards felt disappointed, thinking it was not frightening at all — perhaps even boring. This had everything to do with generational differences in horror films and deeper psychological mechanisms behind fear.
As everyone knows, most horror films rely heavily on jump scares — sudden, shocking images paired with loud sound cues. These "in-your-face scare moments" were the bread and butter of modern horror movies. They were certainly effective, but the overuse of such techniques made audiences both annoyed and aesthetically fatigued.
Still, jump scares worked — and because they worked, filmmakers used them. They triggered screams, and screams were the foundation of horror cinema.
But The Shining wasn't that type of film. It barely used jump scares at all. Instead, it slowly seeped psychological dread into the viewer, relying on spatial claustrophobia and humanity's fear of the unknown to build horror. It had its own very distinct personality. There was no clearly defined "monster," and the film never outright explained things.
The director used meticulous compositions, Steadicam long takes, and surreal imagery to create an atmosphere of unease — combined with enclosed spaces, fractured family dynamics, and the gradual collapse of sanity — all culminating in The Shining's unique brand of horror.
And one needed to consider the era it was released. Back then, truly innovative horror films were rare. The most popular ones at the time were straightforward slasher movies — for example, the well-known Halloween was from that same era. Within that context, The Shining was naturally frightening. But in Edward's era, after experiencing The Grudge, One Missed Call, and other intense modern horror films, it was completely normal that The Shining no longer felt especially scary.
Even so, The Shining influenced countless future works. Many films paid homage to its imagery. For example, Stephen Chow's Kung Fu Hustle even recreated the iconic blood-flooding-hallway shot.
A very open and obvious tribute.
"It can be filmed. Let them shoot it, and then bring it back for me to watch." Edward felt it was worth a try. After all, this was Old Man Kirk's goodwill gesture — there was no reason to reject it. Not to mention, it was The Shining. Though its scare factor had diminished in Edward's present era, a revised adaptation could still work.
"Boss, this is the already-rewritten script." Zoroark handed him a new script.
Edward's mouth twitched. He hadn't even said he wanted it rewritten, yet they already rewrote it?
Cold, knife-sharp winds howled across Mount Coronet. The snow-white Everview Hotel stood alone among the encircling mountains, isolated from the world. Once a luxurious alpine resort, it had now become a cursed forbidden zone feared by all. Heavy blizzards sealed the mountain paths completely, cutting the Everview Hotel off from the outside world — creating the perfect stage for the terror that was about to unfold.
Jack Torrance, a man who once carried the dream of becoming a writer, returned to this secret-laden hotel with his family. He believed it would become the source of inspiration he desperately needed to overcome his creative block. Yet he never anticipated that he was stepping into a nightmare far more terrifying than anything he could imagine.
At first, everything appeared peaceful. The polished marble floors reflected the glow of crystal chandeliers, and the crackling fireplace dispelled the cold. Wendy, strong yet gentle, cared attentively for their young son Danny. Danny, a child with the "shining" ability, sensed things invisible to ordinary people — the faint light in his eyes seemed to pierce through time and space.
But as night fell, the darkness buried deep within the hotel began to awaken. While Danny played in the hallways, an inexplicable chill swept over him. Something deep within his soul trembled in fear. Terrified, he ran to his mother, voice shaking: "Mom… something is watching me…" Wendy held him close, trying to drive away the fear with warmth.
Jack, meanwhile, immersed himself in his writing, hoping this snowy isolation would reignite his creativity. But as nights grew longer and quieter, a strange unease settled into him. He began hearing eerie sounds echoing from deep within the hotel — ghostly crying, sharp laughter, as if the damned were whispering to him. Worse yet, he began seeing distorted figures in mirrors — figures twisted by agony and despair.
One night, a sudden knocking woke him. Exhausted, he went to the door, only to find no one there. Just as he thought he imagined it, a yellowed piece of paper slid through the crack under the door. Scrawled in childish handwriting was a single word: "REDRUM." His heart sank. He tried to decipher the strange message, unaware that this was only the beginning of the nightmare.
As days passed, the paranormal events escalated. Wendy began waking at night to find Jack standing at the window, muttering to himself with empty eyes. His words overflowed with resentment toward Danny and an obsessive longing for freedom, as if something was taking control of him.
Danny, meanwhile, frequently saw the same distorted figure in mirrors — a figure waving at him, beckoning him toward an unknown abyss.
One day, Danny discovered a secret room in the basement. Inside were ancient ritual objects and eerie photographs. The people in the photos had twisted expressions, as though suffering unbearable torment. A sense of dread washed over Danny. He felt certain the room hid a terrible curse. As he turned to leave, the mirror suddenly reflected a horrifying image — himself, but with eyes filled with malice and madness.
As the curse's influence grew stronger, Jack completely lost his sanity. Wielding an axe, he tried to harm his own family. Wendy fought desperately to protect Danny, engaging in a terrifying struggle for life and death. She gradually realized that Jack's madness was not ordinary — it was the manifestation of a curse embedded deep within the hotel.
After a fierce confrontation, Wendy and Danny managed to escape Jack and hide in a secluded room. They tried to find a way out, but the entire hotel felt swallowed by the curse. No matter how hard they looked, they couldn't find an exit. Even worse, Danny realized he could no longer keep the terrifying figure out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, it appeared in his dreams, whispering secrets from the underworld.
At this time, the mirrors throughout the hotel began revealing something even more horrifying. They no longer reflected the real world, but fragments of another reality — a cursed mirror-world. In that world, Jack's image had already been twisted into a monstrous prisoner, forever wandering the halls with his blood-dripping axe, eyes filled with hatred and sorrow.
Wendy eventually discovered a secret passage behind one of the mirrors — perhaps their only chance to escape. But just as she prepared to enter the darkness with Danny, mirror-Jack grabbed Danny's wrist. That terrifying reflection seemed to mock their helplessness, speaking in a guttural, twisted voice: "You can't escape… This is my home…"
At the crucial moment, Danny decided to confront his fear directly. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind and attempted to communicate with the terrifying figure. He sensed its deep pain and despair — a longing for freedom, a yearning for love, and endless suffering from the curse. In that instant, Danny understood: the figure was not a true monster, but a tormented soul bound by the hotel's curse.
Using his "shining," Danny soothed the spirit and formed a silent pact with it. As the final word fell into place, the entire hotel shook violently, as if awakening from a nightmare. The reflections twisted and dissolved. Jack's fury and anguish slowly dissipated. He lowered his axe, his eyes briefly regaining clarity and remorse.
When morning sunlight pierced the thick snowfall and fell upon the Everview Hotel, the family finally found an exit. They left quietly, the snow-covered hotel behind them — along with a mystery that would never be solved. As Danny looked back one last time, he seemed to see his reflection in the mirror smiling at him — a smile of release, and of hope for the future.
"…I'm sorry, but what is this supposed to be?" Edward's mouth twitched. Something about this plot felt off.
It resembled The Shining, but… also didn't. It followed the general structure, yet somehow felt like a fusion of The Shining with several other stories. Very strange.
"Forget it. Use the original version, and polish the psychological horror aspects a bit more." Edward rubbed the bridge of his nose. This matter was troublesome yet not troublesome — odd in its own way. Edward didn't have many opinions on it; he still felt the original plot of The Shining was better.
However, considering the original story was now outdated, Edward hesitated before deciding it would be better to revise it. At least enough to make it genuinely frightening again. But script revisions were the job of the screenwriters, not his. As far as Edward was concerned, it had little to do with him.
Zoroark quickly noted down his instructions. Edward, bored, yawned as he glanced at Zoroark, then at the paperwork in his hands.
"Hm… it's almost the end of the year. You're suggesting distributing the year-end bonuses early — and giving yourself a promotion-level bonus as well?" Edward looked at Zoroark with a half-smile.
Zoroark nodded, clearly nervous. Edward didn't mind. Ghost Films had been running fairly smoothly lately. The only troublesome matter was Farfetch'd-House — that unlucky but honest man.
Thinking of that brought the issue back to mind. Edward realized he hadn't checked the follow-up on his situation yet, so he turned to Zoroark and asked about it.
(End of Chapter)