Corn was out of season. It had been about nine months since Mort Rainy's newly revised novel, Secret Window, had hit bookstore shelves. It was an instant success, but now the hype was dying down and Mort was in the same position that he was those nine months ago. He felt that a sequel was in order, but where to start? Mort was dressed in his favorite striped robe with the rip in the shoulder. His hair, as usual, a mess and in need of a dye job. The cursor on Mort's laptop was blinking on and off in time to the ticking of his new watch.
Why do I write this crap? He thought to himself.
With each blink of the cursor, Mort became more and more frustrated with himself; he reached into the desk drawer and pulled out a pack of filtered cigarettes. In his swivel chair Mort turned to the little window in the corner, and gazed through it as he lit the cigarette.
Taking long drags Mort, looked down on his barren garden that used to be
filled with succulent corn, half expecting his old friend John Shooter to appear. But the only thing in the garden was a lone shovel propped against a gnarled tree. Mort stared hard at the scene, searching for inspiration in a place that once supported his best seller. Only he knew that more than inspiration was buried under that soil, but there was something more, something, that if it were discovered would shock anyone.
If only Amy had been more careful now she can be with her lover for--
In mid thought something floating in the lake behind his house caught Mort's eye. He ran down the stairs of his excluded cabin and out to the lake.
Still unable to see exactly what it was in the water, Mort waded out to the body. He was in up to his thighs in the murky water before he could reach the object. Now only and arm's length away Mort realized that it was a body floating face down. Slowly Mort reached under the corpse and flipped it over. As he looked at its face, what he saw made him pass out in the water. The body that he found was that of himself, Mort Rainy.