DISCLAIMER: I don't own or have anything to do with Secret Window. Common sense stfuplz.
It was a beautiful bright and sunny morning. Mort Rainey was sitting in his house staring at the computer screen. His eyes had warped into little spirals and his mouth was foaming, the foam spilling all over the keyboard, "Must... have... perfect... ending..." He took a Dorito out of the bag; his eyes fixed on the screen, and slowly lifted it to his mouth. Sadly, he was so focused that it missed his mouth and he poked his eye, "FUCKINGHELLSONOFABITCHFUCKSHITBITCHSHITHELLFUCKERS," he exclaimed. It didn't matter... no one was there to hear him. Or were they....?
"Mr. Rainey, yew hayv a very dirtay mouth. I thank it's tahm yew were taught a lesson," a familiar voice from no where exclaimed. Mort was so surprised he fell out of his chair and kicked his desk (which sent the computer flying out the roof). Mort sat up, "OH NOOOO MY LAPTOOOOP!!! MY STORYYYY!!!"
"Mah story," corrected Shooter. With that, he pulled out a video tape. Mort's eyes widened, "NO NO ANYTHING BUT THAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!" Shooter dragged Mort downstairs to the couch. He then pulled a portable TV/VCR out of pocket (even though it was 2x2 feet). Mort was bawling by now, "Pleeease spaaare meee!!!!" The deadly Mississippi hick put the mysterious video tape into the player and pressed play.
Silence.
"... it's not working."
"You didn't plug in the TV."
"Oh..."
With that in mind, the TV was plugged in and Mort returned to breaking down while Shooter tried to figure out not-so-modern day technology. When Shooter finally figured it out, he turned on the TV and the movie began to play.
It was fuzzy for a moment then it flicked to a glowing ring.
Shooter blinked, "What in tarnation? Ah thought there were home movays."
They continued to watch the disturbing and deadly short.
Mort nodded slowly, "So did I... LOOK A HORSEY!"
"... a dead one."
"DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BE SO MORBID?"
"Do yew always hayv tah be a pussay?"
"You're hurting my feelings..."
"Good."
"By the way... what the fuck are we watching?"
"No idea..."
The tape ended with a grainy shot of a well in the distance, then switched to all static. Mort frowned, "I didn't like that video very much. Why did you show it to me?"
"Ah deedn't. YEW showed it to yourself."
"K! You no what, fuck you."
"Watch your mouth bitch."
Silence.
Then the shrill noise of a telephone ring interrupted the stillness. Mort ran to the green plastic piece of crap, "I BET IT'S AMY! GEE WILLICKERSS THAT'S SWELL!!!" He picked up the phone and was about to say hello, only to be interrupted by a whispery little girl's voice, "Seven days..."
Mort pulled back the phone and looked at it confusedly, "Ted? Is that you?"
The voice replied in the same possessed whispery tone, "I am not permitted to answer that question."
"Oh. Fine then. Be that way."
Shooter stomped over and grabbed the phone from him, "Geev that to me. Who the heyal is this?" No response was given for Samara had to go to the bathroom in her well and had no more time to talk.
Mort and Shooter looked at the TV screen in unison. The mystery had begun.