Disclaimer: I don't own Secret Window. The original was done by Stephen
King, and who would steal from a genius like that?
Darkness of A writer's heart.
Chapter1
Love is a fragile thing. So fragile that the smallest thing can break it into a dozen tiny pieces, leaving its victims shattered and in pieces as well. This is what Mort Rainey felt when he saw his wife in that motel room, doing it with a total stranger, his heart shattering into little fragments. Because of the incident and his now growing hatred towards his wife, he decided to kill her, and anybody else who got in his way. He buried her in the corn fields out in the back of his house on that lake underneath layers and layers of dirt. That was her favorite place to be when she was alive. Ever since she found that secret window behind the dresser, she had gone down there to pick corn when it was in season, and plant new stalks when it wasn't. Mort Rainey would look out that tiny window at the corn stalks each day when he was writing at his laptop, maybe to find a new idea for a story.
But when he looked out at the corn, he would look at it, and remember nothing.
He knew he did something in the corn garden, hid something, but he would remember nothing.
But John Shooter remembered, after all, he did it.
And that's where our story begins.
There was a knock on Mort Rainey's door around 8:00 in the morning. Mort rose from his sleep on the couch, dressed in his usual striped robe, his hair in tangles. Pulling his glasses on, he muttered something, and went towards the door, peeking through the screen to see who it was. It was an outline of a man he knew too well.
John Shooter.
Mort opened the door, and greeted the familiar southern corn farmer with his usual "What do you want?"
"I came here to thank you," he replied in his southern accent.
"Thank me for what?" Mort asked.
"For fixing the ending of MY story for me."
"Wait.. hold up," Mort said. "What do you mean your story? We already went over this. It was my story from the beginning."
"You don't remember what happened at all do you Mr. Rainey,"
Mort looked down in frustration. "Remember what?"
A smile spread across Shooter's face. "I thought so. I thought you probably wouldn't remember anything."
"Ok Shooter, I don't know what you're getting at, but I fixed your ending, I published the new ending, and now, you can leave." and Mort quickly slammed the door, only for it to be stopped by Shooter's foot.
"I didn't come here to just thank you Mr. Rainey, cuz there's still one problem."
Mort sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "And what would that be?"
"The story still has your name on it."
"I didn't really find a need to put your name on it, it was my story, you can't change that."
"I don't care what you say Mr. Rainey, nothin can change the fact that you stole my story in the first place."
"Look, I don't even know why I fixed the ending in the first place. You killed Chico, Tom Greenleaf, and Karsch, I don't want to have anything more to do with you, so if you will kindly leave, I can get back to my writing,"
"I don't think so Mr. Rainey. You give me the credit for the story, I'll let you go, but if you don't, I'll be forced to take action into my own hands. You have 3 days to send a letter to your publisher to tell him to change the author's name to John Shooter. That's when I'll be back. "and he left without another word.
Mort just sighed and muttered under his breath "What a jackass."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sheriff Dave Newsome was driving up to Rainey's house. He couldn't get that guy out of his mind. He knew that Mort had killed those people. He knew, but he had no evidence. He had no proof. That was why he was driving up now. He needed the proof to put Mort Rainey behind bars.
Coming up to Rainey's cabin, he glanced at the front porch, and saw Rainey. He was in his pajamas. 'Must have just woken up,' he thought to himself. He parked his car in his driveway, and walked up to the porch, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.
"Mr. Rainey," he called out to the dazed man.
Rainey spotted him quickly, and Newsome could of sworn he saw Rainey's eyes go wide in fear, but it had disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Hello officer," Rainey called out.
"Hello Rainey," he said back. "I just came up here to see how you were holding up."
"I'm just fine,"
"That's good to hear. Remember, if that guy comes around again looking to mess with you again, remember, we aren't to far away."
"I'll remember that," Rainey replied, and Newsome went back to his car.
'I'll get the little killer someday, he can't hide the evidence forever,"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
How wuz it? Review please!
Darkness of A writer's heart.
Chapter1
Love is a fragile thing. So fragile that the smallest thing can break it into a dozen tiny pieces, leaving its victims shattered and in pieces as well. This is what Mort Rainey felt when he saw his wife in that motel room, doing it with a total stranger, his heart shattering into little fragments. Because of the incident and his now growing hatred towards his wife, he decided to kill her, and anybody else who got in his way. He buried her in the corn fields out in the back of his house on that lake underneath layers and layers of dirt. That was her favorite place to be when she was alive. Ever since she found that secret window behind the dresser, she had gone down there to pick corn when it was in season, and plant new stalks when it wasn't. Mort Rainey would look out that tiny window at the corn stalks each day when he was writing at his laptop, maybe to find a new idea for a story.
But when he looked out at the corn, he would look at it, and remember nothing.
He knew he did something in the corn garden, hid something, but he would remember nothing.
But John Shooter remembered, after all, he did it.
And that's where our story begins.
There was a knock on Mort Rainey's door around 8:00 in the morning. Mort rose from his sleep on the couch, dressed in his usual striped robe, his hair in tangles. Pulling his glasses on, he muttered something, and went towards the door, peeking through the screen to see who it was. It was an outline of a man he knew too well.
John Shooter.
Mort opened the door, and greeted the familiar southern corn farmer with his usual "What do you want?"
"I came here to thank you," he replied in his southern accent.
"Thank me for what?" Mort asked.
"For fixing the ending of MY story for me."
"Wait.. hold up," Mort said. "What do you mean your story? We already went over this. It was my story from the beginning."
"You don't remember what happened at all do you Mr. Rainey,"
Mort looked down in frustration. "Remember what?"
A smile spread across Shooter's face. "I thought so. I thought you probably wouldn't remember anything."
"Ok Shooter, I don't know what you're getting at, but I fixed your ending, I published the new ending, and now, you can leave." and Mort quickly slammed the door, only for it to be stopped by Shooter's foot.
"I didn't come here to just thank you Mr. Rainey, cuz there's still one problem."
Mort sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "And what would that be?"
"The story still has your name on it."
"I didn't really find a need to put your name on it, it was my story, you can't change that."
"I don't care what you say Mr. Rainey, nothin can change the fact that you stole my story in the first place."
"Look, I don't even know why I fixed the ending in the first place. You killed Chico, Tom Greenleaf, and Karsch, I don't want to have anything more to do with you, so if you will kindly leave, I can get back to my writing,"
"I don't think so Mr. Rainey. You give me the credit for the story, I'll let you go, but if you don't, I'll be forced to take action into my own hands. You have 3 days to send a letter to your publisher to tell him to change the author's name to John Shooter. That's when I'll be back. "and he left without another word.
Mort just sighed and muttered under his breath "What a jackass."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sheriff Dave Newsome was driving up to Rainey's house. He couldn't get that guy out of his mind. He knew that Mort had killed those people. He knew, but he had no evidence. He had no proof. That was why he was driving up now. He needed the proof to put Mort Rainey behind bars.
Coming up to Rainey's cabin, he glanced at the front porch, and saw Rainey. He was in his pajamas. 'Must have just woken up,' he thought to himself. He parked his car in his driveway, and walked up to the porch, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.
"Mr. Rainey," he called out to the dazed man.
Rainey spotted him quickly, and Newsome could of sworn he saw Rainey's eyes go wide in fear, but it had disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Hello officer," Rainey called out.
"Hello Rainey," he said back. "I just came up here to see how you were holding up."
"I'm just fine,"
"That's good to hear. Remember, if that guy comes around again looking to mess with you again, remember, we aren't to far away."
"I'll remember that," Rainey replied, and Newsome went back to his car.
'I'll get the little killer someday, he can't hide the evidence forever,"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
How wuz it? Review please!