THE GLEAMING
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Due to the massive popularity of Tim Burton's film rendition of the semi-biographical musical about Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber Of Fleet Street, I'm sure that this fanfiction of mine is not the only one of its kind floating around the Internet. "But what is a Sweeney Todd fanfiction doing on your site profile?" you're probably asking. "After all, you usually write fanfiction for The Great Mouse Detective, A Clockwork Orange, The Rescuers, Rock & Rule, Under The Cherry Moon...old-school things like that."
Yes, it's true that nearly all (if not all) of my fanfiction on this website are for "cult classic" movies, old & obscure films, & family or kiddie movies (especially Disney). But the dreaded plot bunnies have started nagging at my brain, & there isn't anything I can do to get rid of them. And so I, The Mouse Avenger, am pleased to announce that a new category of fanfiction has been added to my ever-growing list; I have officially begun writing my own stories for Sweeney Todd. Now, there won't be too many of these fanfictions on my profile as far as I can see, but this will probably change as time progresses, so keep an eye out & hang tight for updates!
In the meantime, you're probably wondering what my first Sweeney Todd fanfiction is about. Let me indulge you with a brief, spoiler-free summary: This story blends the world & characters of Sweeney Todd with those of Stanley Kubrick's macabre masterpiece The Shining, one of my favorite horror films. As for what goes on in this crossover? Well, you'll just have to find out for yourself...
All Sweeney Todd characters & elements belong to Tim Burton & DreamWorks Studios.
All characters & elements related to The Shining are property of Stanley Kubrick & Warner Bros.
All original elements & ideas belong to me.
I hope you enjoy the story. I will take any kind of feedback, comments, or constructive criticism, so long as they are not flames or written in a harsh manner.
Chapter 1:
The Arrival
Fairfax Valley, England, 1887
Sweeney Torrance slouched down in the hard wooden bench of the horse-drawn carriage, his trembling hands clutching tightly at his valise that bounced up & down in his lap with each jolt the coach took through the snow-covered hills. The harsh howl of the cold wind that blew fiercely outside the carriage roared in Sweeney's ears, blocking out the clip-clop of the horses' hooves & the crack of the coachman's whip. Sweeney barely paid attention to his surroundings, in fact, as he stared down with wistful green eyes at the tarnished silver case he held so gingerly in his hands, never removing his gaze from it in the chance that it were to slip from his lap & crash upon the carriage floor.
Only when the carriage began to slow down, after what must have been hours of traveling through the English countryside, did Sweeney come back to his senses & take a look out through the window at the winter wonderland that he had finally arrived in. Through the thick haze of flurry that whistled & whirled around in the ongoing blizzard, he could make out the faint outline of a building that became more & more visible to him as the carriage approached it. When his long ride came to a stop at last, Sweeney slowly took up his valise & stepped out onto the ground, his black boots squishing into the snow as he landed.
Having forgotten his winter coat & scarf in his rush to get to his destination, Sweeney shivered as he felt gusts of frigid air blowing against him, chilling him to the bone. He had a good feeling that when he got back to London, he would have to make a pit stop at the tavern & order some snifters of brandy to warm him...
No, Sweeney insisted, shaking his head furiously to remind himself of the promise he had made. No more alcohol, Sweeney; you gave your word on it. But in spite of this solemn vow, Sweeney couldn't help but sigh & frown at the thought of a good, stiff drink as he clutched his valise more tightly & made his way into the Hillcrest Inn.
The Hillcrest Inn wasn't a very small lodge—for that matter, it wasn't really even a lodge to speak of. It was more of a hotel (if you could call it such) that was actually made up of four large inns that were grouped together to make one big building complex. The Hillcrest didn't look too quaint or attractive in the wintertime, but in the spring & summer, it looked much prettier in its scenic location near the Thames River, when it was surrounded by blossoming flowers, lush green grass, & sunshine everywhere. Now, however, snow covered the thatch roofs of the Hillcrest buildings & completely surrounded the foot of the inn's stone walls, reaching up to about four inches high. It was hard for Sweeney to open the front door of the Hillcrest Inn's main building due to the piled-up snow that acted as a very effective doorstop. When Sweeney finally managed to get inside, however, he quickly shut the door behind him, blocking out the cold & snow, & walked into the Hillcrest's lobby.
The lobby was completely dark, its electric lights all having been turned off so as to save power during the snowstorm. Dust & cobwebs filled the empty room, the stone fireplace was void of its usual cheery glow, & all the plush furniture that rested upon the large Oriental rug in front of the hearth—chaise lounges, armchairs, & sofas—were covered in ghostly white sheets to protect them from the filth that surrounded them. Tiny bugs, stealthy spiders, & squeaking rats scurried around the lobby every few minutes, & the musty smell of uncleanness stung Sweeney's nose as he walked around the lobby, looking for the manager of the Hillcrest—the man he had come to see after weeks of waiting impatiently in London for a private visit with him.
It wasn't long before Sweeney finally found the man he'd been seeking; the Hillcrest manager, a sprightly young Italian man in flamboyant clothing, made an extravagant entrance into the lobby, goose-stepping his way down the staircase that led up to the second story of the inn's main building. "Buon giorno, Signor Torrance," the manager greeted in a suave accent, flashing a pearly smile at his visitor. "So glad you've made it here at last!"
"I'm willing to say the same thing myself, Signor Pirelli," Sweeney replied, returning the smile in a genial manner. "It took five hours for my coach to travel through that bleedin' snowstorm, but I certainly managed, didn't I?" He emitted a terse chuckle, one that contained a bitter undertone despite its cheerful sound to the ear. "So," Sweeney continued with a clear of his throat, "I understand that I've been hired as the off-season caretaker of the Hillcrest, correct?"
Mr. Pirelli nodded in affirmation, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. "My advisors & I have come to the unanimous agreement that you are indeed the perfect man for the job, Mr. Torrance," he answered, circling around Sweeney & looking over him as if he were a prized trophy. "You fit many of the qualifications for such a vocation—patience, organization, a commitment to duty...among others, of course." Pirelli gave a wink, & Sweeney couldn't help but chuckle again in amusement. "And these qualifications that I have mentioned are precisely what you will need in order to properly care for the Hillcrest during the next few months."
"Until the first of May," Sweeney hazarded a guess. "Is that not correct, Signor Pirelli?"
"Right again, Mr. Torrance," Pirelli answered with another nod of his head, but then his toothy smile became a small frown of disappointment as he continued his talk with Sweeney. "I will admit to you—regretfully—that many people who voice their desire to take care of the Hillcrest usually end up backing out of the deal when they are told how long they are to stay; the revelation of this particular bit of information has an unfortunate tendency to intimidate our would-be concierges. But you," he added as he learned in towards Sweeney & stared into the man's fearless green eyes, "are not the least bit intimidated by the prospect of spending six months away from home in an isolated cabin, without the company of others...are you?"
Sweeney did not respond for a few seconds, but the confident glimmer in his eyes & the self-assured smile on his face certainly did not contradict his inner feelings when he finally gave his answer: "I'm quite certain I'll be able to handle everything without much trouble." His smile became tender as he added, "And I won't necessarily be deprived of the company of others, Mr. Pirelli. I'll be bringing a couple of helpers with me." Sweeney gave a wink in Pirelli's direction, & Pirelli quickly got the hint, reacting to his coy gesture with a hearty laugh.
"Oh, of course, of course!" Pirelli cried between chuckles. "And who, if I may ask, are the helpers that you intend to bring with you to the Hillcrest?"
Sweeney's face brightened with pride as his smile stretched from ear to ear. "They are none other than my nephew, Toby," he answered, "& his governess, my good friend Miss Lovett."