Disclaimer – I don't own Secret Window, John Shooter, Mort, or any other
characters in the film. They belong to Stephen King and Columbia Pictures.
A/N – This is just a story that popped into my head at the moment. Mostly I wanted to do a story staring John Shooter because was dieing to write his dialogue. You see, I live in a hillbilly town, so I'm used to people talking like hill-jacks. The movie 'Secret Window' was pretty cool, and I loved John Turturro as John Shooter. Plus I loved the ending cuz I didn't like Amy that well anyways. I mean, who in the world would cheat on poor Johnny Depp?! Also, the story title is based on the song by Bubba Sparxxx called Deliverance, which for some odd reason reminds me of the movie and this story.
Deliverance
By A Nightmare on Water Street
Mort Rainey sat back on his wooden chair at his work desk, studying the monitor diligently. He wore his ragged striped robe and his large black framed glasses. His dirty blonde hair was messy and unkempt as usual, but brought a certain handsome, laid back feature out on him.
It had been one month since he killed Amy and her lover Ted, or, as he would like to say, the ending was fixed, and ever since then, has felt like nothing could stand in his way. He felt refreshed and untroubled in his isolated little cabin. No more worries of divorce papers, ex-lovers, new lovers, etc......... Mechanically, he opened a drawer on the side of his desk and pulled out the new pack of cigarettes. He pulled out one cigarette and lighted it. He took one small puff, and made a stream of grey smoke eject from his mouth.
"You lie 'bout all those 'I don't smoke', stories, don't ya, Mort?"
Mort lazily turned towards the familiar voice. "I never lie, Mr. Shooter," Mort said innocently as he inhaled more smoke.
John Shooter stood at the top of the staircase with his dark coat and pants and a blue shirt underneath the jacket. He held his black cowboy-ish hat in his right hand and his left supported himself on the wooden staircase.
"What are you doing here?" Mort said, turning away from Shooter and back to his story.
"I reckon I stop by," Shooter stated as he stalked towards Mort, "'see how ya'are."
"Never could be better," Mort said looking back to Shooter, "With Amy out of my life, I'm home free."
"She was a lady, Mort. Kinda' rude to take to a lady like that."
"Well, what the hell, Shooter, you're the one that killed her."
"I may 'ave killed her but that does not mean I'm not gonna still be a gentleman. It was just mah' ending, that was all I was worried about."
"That doesn't make any sense," Mort replied.
"May not to you but does to me."
Mort rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. Shooter had come to visit him once in awhile since the deaths. He knew that Shooter wasn't real, only a part of Mort's own schizophrenic mind, but he grew to accept the fact that John Shooter would never leave him alone.
For some odd reason today, Mort had the feeling that Shooter wasn't here just to talk. There was something eerie about the way Shooter presented himself at the moment.
"John," Mort said sullenly, "What do you want?"
Shooter looked up at Mort puzzled, "I don't believe there's nuthin' I want from you right now. We did what was needed to be done and the past is the past."
"Bullshit," Mort said, sitting upright in his chair. "Why the hell would you go to town? There's not a damn thing you could do there. You said it yourself, you're not real! You came here for a reason! Now what the fuck do you want?!"
Mort's face beamed red with furry. He was now standing in front of Shooter and only inches away from Shooter's face, close enough to feel the hot breath from his mouth that shouldn't even be there.
Then there was a long stretch of silence between the two men, as they were now face to face. Mort felt the anger still rising from Shooter's stubbornness to answer him.
Mort opened his lips to speak again, but suddenly felt a surging pain in his arms as he was pushed far back into the wall behind him.
Shooter pressed Mort to the wall with all the strength he could conjure and held him there much like the way he did when he had first met him.
"You're right, there is somethin' that needs to be done, Mort," Shooter said, as he held the struggling Mort against the wall.
"You're fucking crazy!" Mort yelled, "Let me go!"
As soon as Mort finished his sentence, Shooter pulled out a handgun from a pocket in his jacket.
"Shooter!" Mort cried as he seen the gun.
Mort let out a loud cry of surprise and pain as he was suddenly pushed backwards into his chair. Before he could get back up, Shooter brought the gun up to Mort's right temple. "You're right," he said, "This will be the perfect ending."
With that, he pulled the trigger.
********
A police car pulled quickly up to the old Rainey residence and stopped abruptly at the house. As soon as the engine was turned off, Sheriff Newsman, the man who had been carefully keeping an eye on Mort for the last month, stepped out of the police vehicle and quickly shut the door.
He began to walk towards the cabin when another younger officer walked out of the back door. The young officer approached the frantic man.
"What the hell did he do this time?" Sheriff Newsman asked him.
"Mort's dead, sir," The younger officer replied.
"How?" the sheriff asked stunned, "any clues?"
"We think it was suicide," he replied, "He was sitting at his computer when he must have shot himself. The gun was in his right hand and the bullet hole was in his right temple. Clear signs of suicide. We think maybe that he had been driven into insanity and had taken his own life."
Sheriff Newsman pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache that he could feel coming. "I seen this coming, Officer," he said softly, "I should have had something done about it too."
Before the younger officer could answer, Sheriff Newsman pushed past him and charged into the cabin.
FIN.
********
Okay, so this story was weird, but I really do hope you liked it. Mort was crazy, so the idea of him committing suicide intrigued me to make it seem like Shooter killed him. Hope you liked it, again!
Also, I know that schizophrenic people can be happy one moment, but then be strange the next. There were two people that lived in my town that where schizophrenic. One was an older woman who shot herself in the head when she stopped taking her medication, and the other was a twelve year old girl who ended up running away from home for no apparent reason. So I figured I would add some of the weirdness that comes with schizophrenia by making Mort very happy and relaxed at first, and yet depressed at the same time. Weird, huh?
Reviews are welcome but no flames please!
A/N – This is just a story that popped into my head at the moment. Mostly I wanted to do a story staring John Shooter because was dieing to write his dialogue. You see, I live in a hillbilly town, so I'm used to people talking like hill-jacks. The movie 'Secret Window' was pretty cool, and I loved John Turturro as John Shooter. Plus I loved the ending cuz I didn't like Amy that well anyways. I mean, who in the world would cheat on poor Johnny Depp?! Also, the story title is based on the song by Bubba Sparxxx called Deliverance, which for some odd reason reminds me of the movie and this story.
Deliverance
By A Nightmare on Water Street
Mort Rainey sat back on his wooden chair at his work desk, studying the monitor diligently. He wore his ragged striped robe and his large black framed glasses. His dirty blonde hair was messy and unkempt as usual, but brought a certain handsome, laid back feature out on him.
It had been one month since he killed Amy and her lover Ted, or, as he would like to say, the ending was fixed, and ever since then, has felt like nothing could stand in his way. He felt refreshed and untroubled in his isolated little cabin. No more worries of divorce papers, ex-lovers, new lovers, etc......... Mechanically, he opened a drawer on the side of his desk and pulled out the new pack of cigarettes. He pulled out one cigarette and lighted it. He took one small puff, and made a stream of grey smoke eject from his mouth.
"You lie 'bout all those 'I don't smoke', stories, don't ya, Mort?"
Mort lazily turned towards the familiar voice. "I never lie, Mr. Shooter," Mort said innocently as he inhaled more smoke.
John Shooter stood at the top of the staircase with his dark coat and pants and a blue shirt underneath the jacket. He held his black cowboy-ish hat in his right hand and his left supported himself on the wooden staircase.
"What are you doing here?" Mort said, turning away from Shooter and back to his story.
"I reckon I stop by," Shooter stated as he stalked towards Mort, "'see how ya'are."
"Never could be better," Mort said looking back to Shooter, "With Amy out of my life, I'm home free."
"She was a lady, Mort. Kinda' rude to take to a lady like that."
"Well, what the hell, Shooter, you're the one that killed her."
"I may 'ave killed her but that does not mean I'm not gonna still be a gentleman. It was just mah' ending, that was all I was worried about."
"That doesn't make any sense," Mort replied.
"May not to you but does to me."
Mort rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. Shooter had come to visit him once in awhile since the deaths. He knew that Shooter wasn't real, only a part of Mort's own schizophrenic mind, but he grew to accept the fact that John Shooter would never leave him alone.
For some odd reason today, Mort had the feeling that Shooter wasn't here just to talk. There was something eerie about the way Shooter presented himself at the moment.
"John," Mort said sullenly, "What do you want?"
Shooter looked up at Mort puzzled, "I don't believe there's nuthin' I want from you right now. We did what was needed to be done and the past is the past."
"Bullshit," Mort said, sitting upright in his chair. "Why the hell would you go to town? There's not a damn thing you could do there. You said it yourself, you're not real! You came here for a reason! Now what the fuck do you want?!"
Mort's face beamed red with furry. He was now standing in front of Shooter and only inches away from Shooter's face, close enough to feel the hot breath from his mouth that shouldn't even be there.
Then there was a long stretch of silence between the two men, as they were now face to face. Mort felt the anger still rising from Shooter's stubbornness to answer him.
Mort opened his lips to speak again, but suddenly felt a surging pain in his arms as he was pushed far back into the wall behind him.
Shooter pressed Mort to the wall with all the strength he could conjure and held him there much like the way he did when he had first met him.
"You're right, there is somethin' that needs to be done, Mort," Shooter said, as he held the struggling Mort against the wall.
"You're fucking crazy!" Mort yelled, "Let me go!"
As soon as Mort finished his sentence, Shooter pulled out a handgun from a pocket in his jacket.
"Shooter!" Mort cried as he seen the gun.
Mort let out a loud cry of surprise and pain as he was suddenly pushed backwards into his chair. Before he could get back up, Shooter brought the gun up to Mort's right temple. "You're right," he said, "This will be the perfect ending."
With that, he pulled the trigger.
********
A police car pulled quickly up to the old Rainey residence and stopped abruptly at the house. As soon as the engine was turned off, Sheriff Newsman, the man who had been carefully keeping an eye on Mort for the last month, stepped out of the police vehicle and quickly shut the door.
He began to walk towards the cabin when another younger officer walked out of the back door. The young officer approached the frantic man.
"What the hell did he do this time?" Sheriff Newsman asked him.
"Mort's dead, sir," The younger officer replied.
"How?" the sheriff asked stunned, "any clues?"
"We think it was suicide," he replied, "He was sitting at his computer when he must have shot himself. The gun was in his right hand and the bullet hole was in his right temple. Clear signs of suicide. We think maybe that he had been driven into insanity and had taken his own life."
Sheriff Newsman pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache that he could feel coming. "I seen this coming, Officer," he said softly, "I should have had something done about it too."
Before the younger officer could answer, Sheriff Newsman pushed past him and charged into the cabin.
FIN.
********
Okay, so this story was weird, but I really do hope you liked it. Mort was crazy, so the idea of him committing suicide intrigued me to make it seem like Shooter killed him. Hope you liked it, again!
Also, I know that schizophrenic people can be happy one moment, but then be strange the next. There were two people that lived in my town that where schizophrenic. One was an older woman who shot herself in the head when she stopped taking her medication, and the other was a twelve year old girl who ended up running away from home for no apparent reason. So I figured I would add some of the weirdness that comes with schizophrenia by making Mort very happy and relaxed at first, and yet depressed at the same time. Weird, huh?
Reviews are welcome but no flames please!