Disclaimer: I do not own Secret Window. However, I do own the book Four
Past Midnight, which contains it. Really, I got it for easter. However, I
do own Rachel, and James.
Hi. Thank you to the people who reviewed:
Chibi Hermione
Dawnie-7
NaimhOFeir704
Sherlock's Sparrow
pandgal
beadsnabone
I feel so special!
Sorry it took a little long for this chapter to come up, I was working on my Inuyasha story, so I kind of forgot about this one. Anyway, here's the second chapter. Enjoy!
Darkness of a Writer's Heart
Chapter 2
After the little meeting with John Shooter, Mort had gone back inside, and settled down on the couch again. Taking off his glasses, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to consume him.
Ah, but Mort Rainey never gets his sleep.
Soon after he had closed his eyes, he heard footsteps coming from behind the couch. Opening his eyes once again, he peeked over the couch to see what was causing the racket. He spotted what looked like a woman in the corner.
Oh god, not her!
Mrs. Gavin was Mort's cleaning lady. She came by once a week, or so, to clean his house, and maybe hear some of his new writing material.
He hated her guts.
And besides, why would she be here? 'I thought I fired her.' Mort thought to himself. Forcing himself to get up, he put on his glasses, and walked over to the woman he saw. He lightly tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around.
He must have been really tired because it wasn't Mrs. Gavin.
The woman in his house looked maybe around her early thirties. She had a petite figure, a wide full face, and a nice complexion, with only a few signs of aging. She had dazzling green eyes, long curly brown hair that came down to her waist, and full lips.
She was the prettiest woman Mort had ever seen since Amy.
Amy.
What happened to her anyway?
"Hello Mr. Rainey," the woman said. "My name is Rachel Havelock, your new cleaning lady."
"Hello," he responded.
"I saw you sleeping on the couch there, and didn't want to wake you up, so I went straight to work. Hope you don't mind."
"No, no I don't."
"That's good. I'm going to get to work now okay?"
"Sure, go ahead." She nodded, and went straight to work, like she said she would. 'She's cute.' Mort thought to himself. Snapping out of his thoughts, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a coke from the fridge, and went straight up the stairs to his laptop, and attempted to write another piece of crap to publish.
He sat at his typewriter, staring out that little window, like he always did, hoping for inspiration to hit him, but it never did. Breaking his gaze from the window, he turned back to the computer screen. He hadn't written down anything yet. All this work was, was a blank white sheet, and a blinking cursor.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He needed a cigarette.
Bad.
He reached over to the top desk drawer, pulled it open, and searched for his secret box. It was gone.
'I guess I have to go out and buy some more.'
He went into his bedroom, got dressed in a pair of khaki pants, a brown shirt, and his usual black ski hat, and went to his car. He stuck the keys in the ignition, and backed out of the dirt driveway.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
About 5 minutes after he had backed out of the driveway, his car started to beep, signaling that it was out of gas. He continued to drive, ignoring it, but it just kept beeping. Soon, the car stopped altogether.
"Shit," Mort said out loud. He got out of the car, went to the trunk, got out the gas tank, and started to walk down the road towards the gas station.
The whole walk there, he felt like he was being watched. Like someone's eyes were glaring at his back. Soon, not being able to take the feeling anymore, he turned around, and spotted John Shooter pulling up next to him.
"Hello Mr. Rainey. Did you call the publisher yet?"
"No," Mort answered in a frustrated tone. "Why would I call him anyway?"
"Look Mr. Rainey," Shooter stated. "You know, as well as I do, that that story was mine from the beginning. You stole it from me. You put your name on it. I want revenge."
"But didn't I fix your ending?"
"Yes but the story has your name on it, so either way, your still calling it yours." A car suddenly slowed down from behind, and pulled up next to Shooter.
"Hey," the man in the car called out. Shooter pulled down the brim of his hat, waved, and drove off. "Need a lift?" he asked Mort.
"Uh.. Yea." Mort answered. The car came to a stop, and let Mort in. It was an old car, maybe a 1960 Mustang, and it was all banged up and full of dents. Mort hesitantly climbed in, and closed the door, but carefully, hoping it wouldn't fall off its hinges.
"Where are we going?" the man asked. Mort was able to get a good look at him now. He was a thin man, maybe in his mid-50's. He had on a blue baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and when he opened his mouth, Mort noticed a couple of teeth missing.
"To the gas station. My car ran out of gas."
"Okay. By the way, names James Donman."
"Look, if you don't mind, I'm in a little of a rush. I need to do some stuff. Can you just get to the gas station quick?"
"Surely." and James drove off down the road, going over the speed limit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
James had driven him to the gas station, and drove him back to his car as well. Mort had quickly got out, carrying the gas tank, and filled up the car. He then got into his car, and drove off without thanking James.
'Man that guy was a pain.' Mort thought to himself. Before he knew it, he was at the small store where he usually got his cigarettes. He walked up to the lunch counter in the front of the store, and tried to catch the woman behind the counter's attention.
"Why, hello Mr. Rainey," the woman said with a big smile on her face. "I just finished reading your new story. It gave me the chills."
"That's nice Gerta," Mort said back to her. "But can you just give me a pack of cigarettes so I can leave?"
"Sure Mr. Rainey." She handed him a pack, he paid for it, and walked briskly out the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~
Sorry its short, but its longer than the first one. Just be grateful ok? R&R
Hi. Thank you to the people who reviewed:
Chibi Hermione
Dawnie-7
NaimhOFeir704
Sherlock's Sparrow
pandgal
beadsnabone
I feel so special!
Sorry it took a little long for this chapter to come up, I was working on my Inuyasha story, so I kind of forgot about this one. Anyway, here's the second chapter. Enjoy!
Darkness of a Writer's Heart
Chapter 2
After the little meeting with John Shooter, Mort had gone back inside, and settled down on the couch again. Taking off his glasses, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to consume him.
Ah, but Mort Rainey never gets his sleep.
Soon after he had closed his eyes, he heard footsteps coming from behind the couch. Opening his eyes once again, he peeked over the couch to see what was causing the racket. He spotted what looked like a woman in the corner.
Oh god, not her!
Mrs. Gavin was Mort's cleaning lady. She came by once a week, or so, to clean his house, and maybe hear some of his new writing material.
He hated her guts.
And besides, why would she be here? 'I thought I fired her.' Mort thought to himself. Forcing himself to get up, he put on his glasses, and walked over to the woman he saw. He lightly tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around.
He must have been really tired because it wasn't Mrs. Gavin.
The woman in his house looked maybe around her early thirties. She had a petite figure, a wide full face, and a nice complexion, with only a few signs of aging. She had dazzling green eyes, long curly brown hair that came down to her waist, and full lips.
She was the prettiest woman Mort had ever seen since Amy.
Amy.
What happened to her anyway?
"Hello Mr. Rainey," the woman said. "My name is Rachel Havelock, your new cleaning lady."
"Hello," he responded.
"I saw you sleeping on the couch there, and didn't want to wake you up, so I went straight to work. Hope you don't mind."
"No, no I don't."
"That's good. I'm going to get to work now okay?"
"Sure, go ahead." She nodded, and went straight to work, like she said she would. 'She's cute.' Mort thought to himself. Snapping out of his thoughts, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a coke from the fridge, and went straight up the stairs to his laptop, and attempted to write another piece of crap to publish.
He sat at his typewriter, staring out that little window, like he always did, hoping for inspiration to hit him, but it never did. Breaking his gaze from the window, he turned back to the computer screen. He hadn't written down anything yet. All this work was, was a blank white sheet, and a blinking cursor.
He couldn't take it anymore.
He needed a cigarette.
Bad.
He reached over to the top desk drawer, pulled it open, and searched for his secret box. It was gone.
'I guess I have to go out and buy some more.'
He went into his bedroom, got dressed in a pair of khaki pants, a brown shirt, and his usual black ski hat, and went to his car. He stuck the keys in the ignition, and backed out of the dirt driveway.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
About 5 minutes after he had backed out of the driveway, his car started to beep, signaling that it was out of gas. He continued to drive, ignoring it, but it just kept beeping. Soon, the car stopped altogether.
"Shit," Mort said out loud. He got out of the car, went to the trunk, got out the gas tank, and started to walk down the road towards the gas station.
The whole walk there, he felt like he was being watched. Like someone's eyes were glaring at his back. Soon, not being able to take the feeling anymore, he turned around, and spotted John Shooter pulling up next to him.
"Hello Mr. Rainey. Did you call the publisher yet?"
"No," Mort answered in a frustrated tone. "Why would I call him anyway?"
"Look Mr. Rainey," Shooter stated. "You know, as well as I do, that that story was mine from the beginning. You stole it from me. You put your name on it. I want revenge."
"But didn't I fix your ending?"
"Yes but the story has your name on it, so either way, your still calling it yours." A car suddenly slowed down from behind, and pulled up next to Shooter.
"Hey," the man in the car called out. Shooter pulled down the brim of his hat, waved, and drove off. "Need a lift?" he asked Mort.
"Uh.. Yea." Mort answered. The car came to a stop, and let Mort in. It was an old car, maybe a 1960 Mustang, and it was all banged up and full of dents. Mort hesitantly climbed in, and closed the door, but carefully, hoping it wouldn't fall off its hinges.
"Where are we going?" the man asked. Mort was able to get a good look at him now. He was a thin man, maybe in his mid-50's. He had on a blue baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and when he opened his mouth, Mort noticed a couple of teeth missing.
"To the gas station. My car ran out of gas."
"Okay. By the way, names James Donman."
"Look, if you don't mind, I'm in a little of a rush. I need to do some stuff. Can you just get to the gas station quick?"
"Surely." and James drove off down the road, going over the speed limit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
James had driven him to the gas station, and drove him back to his car as well. Mort had quickly got out, carrying the gas tank, and filled up the car. He then got into his car, and drove off without thanking James.
'Man that guy was a pain.' Mort thought to himself. Before he knew it, he was at the small store where he usually got his cigarettes. He walked up to the lunch counter in the front of the store, and tried to catch the woman behind the counter's attention.
"Why, hello Mr. Rainey," the woman said with a big smile on her face. "I just finished reading your new story. It gave me the chills."
"That's nice Gerta," Mort said back to her. "But can you just give me a pack of cigarettes so I can leave?"
"Sure Mr. Rainey." She handed him a pack, he paid for it, and walked briskly out the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~
Sorry its short, but its longer than the first one. Just be grateful ok? R&R