A/N - this idea came to me when I was nearly asleep last night, so, please excuse the weirdness. Also, this is my first Secret Window fic, so please be nice …
Disclaimer – I don't own it. I never have owned it, never will own it, so it must follow logically that I don't own it now.
It was after midnight, when all normal people should be asleep. Mort Rainey, however, was wide-awake, sitting at his computer. He was sipping a large cup of VERY strong coffee, and trying to think about the new story he was supposed to be writing, and overcome a severe case of writer's block. At the moment he wasn't having much success, he kept writing a few sentences, and deleting them, writing more and deleting that, but he resolved to keep trying, and to keep drinking coffee until an acceptable idea presented itself.
And, very slowly, a scenario began to unfold it his mind … but this one was different. He could actually see this one being played out in his mind - a woman, leaving her husband for another man. Mort started typing
"A woman who would steal your love when you love was really all you had wasn't much of a woman. ... And so he decided to kill her"
"Yes" thought Mort, "that is a much better twist than the simple story of a wife leaving her husband." He still wasn't sure if this story would be any good. He decided it didn't matter - he could always throw the story away if it wasn't, and it WAS an idea, which was an improvement over writer's block …
Later, after another cup of coffee, Mort was still typing his story, or rather his fingers were typing the story. They flew over the keys, forming words, and sentences, shaking as they did so, probably from the intake of so much caffeine. His fingers just kept on flying until Mort realized that they were out of control. Not only that, but the story was also totally out of control. Nothing was going as he thought it would in the story, and he couldn't stop it. He wasn't sure if that scared him or not – nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
After the ending was finally complete, Mort got up from his chair, only to discover that it was 4 O'clock in the morning. He felt a rush of something, maybe blood, go to his head, which was really strange, but the feeling tired wasn't, even though he had just had lots of coffee, he stumbled over to the couch, and without even bothering to get into pajamas, he fell into an exhausted sleep. He didn't even remember pressing the print button.
Mort woke up at ten thirty the next morning, At first all he could do was to sit up on the couch and think
"What the heck is going on?" It was then that he noticed the papers lying on the table with the computer, and he remembered writing the story. He got up to see if he could remember what he had written, and stepped on one of the many Styrofoam coffee cups that were scattered all over the floor. He counted about a dozen, and there were probably more hidden around that he didn't see on first glance.
"Wow. I don't remember drinking that much coffee…" he thought, but he proceeded to gather up several coffee cups and threw them away, and then with no further ado, he picked up the story he had written, and started to read it.
Objectively, it wasn't one of his better stories, but it wasn't one of his worst. It would do – except for one odd little glitch – the names were familiar. That was the part that scared him; that it wasn't a story about a random character, it was a story about … it was about … HIM.
"That's funny" he thought. " I don't remember this as being a story about…" Mort couldn't bring himself to think the word "me". He was glad that his wife was at work, because that would give him some time to change the story properly before she asked to read it. And so, without taking another sip of coffee, he sat down to edit his story.
Either the sleep or not having coffee did the trick, because Mort went back and changed the names, and even finished burning the original several hours before his wife got home. Having nothing to do for a few hours, Mort decided to go for a walk, and it was then that he first noticed strange things happening.
"You know" said a voice inside his head "you know it was no mere coincidence that your name appeared on that story." Mort spun around, but saw no one there, but the voice kept persisting.
"there is a reason. Even if you don't listen to me, you'll find out soon enough."
"That's not true" Mort answered back
" You don't have to believe me. You have no reason to. But be warned." And with that, the voice inside his head didn't say another word, and Mort Rainy lay back down on the couch and went back to sleep.
A/N – sure, I know it's short – I I'm trying to get better about the length of my stories, but there are times when what I write is really short. Again, if it's a bit weird I apologize … but please review! I enjoy hearing what you think!