Celwriter: found out that there were two Secret Window stories, hope more
come besides mine and another, but maybe johnny's fanclub isn't as big as I
thought. J'aime tu, Johnny Depp! (French, I may try to write a story in
French, but am not sure if I know enough words) Here's chapter 3
* * *
Chapter 3
Mort looked at the petite girl who stood on his doorstep and thought not again.
"Listen, kid, running away never solves anything. Just go back to your parents and leave a poor writer in peace," Mort told her. Cel looked up at him. His red-streaked deep brown hair lay a little below his chin and glasses carefully framed his handsome brown eyes. A goatee surrounded his light pink lips and he wore a multi-colored rope and brown casual pants.
"I don't think that you understand what I'm here for," she told him politely.
"Coming all the way here for an autograph? Oh, well, I'll need your name." Mort took the envelope out of Cel's hand as she removed it from her pocket.
"My name's Celeste, but.." Cel began.
"Nice name, Celeste, if my wife and I had a child we would have named her that, but now," Mort shook his head, "Anyway, do you have a pen? And I'll need your last name."
"I'm Celeste Rainey," Cel said, knowing that Mort would not believe her, adults never did.
"Yeah, yeah and I'm your long lost uncle, right?" Mort asked sarcastically, "What do you take me for? An idiot?" Cel shook her head and pulled out another piece of paper. She unfolded it and showed it to Mort.
"This is my birth certificate with your name as my father. And this," Cel said, turning over the envelope in Mort's hand to reveal that it was addressed to Mort and from a Dr. Phil E. Sichian, "Is a letter explaining why this is true." Mort opened the letter and began to read.
"May I come in?" Cel asked as she lifted her suitcase. Mort looked up as if he had forgotten that she was there and moved to emit her into his house. It was a tidy living room with two armchairs and a couch surrounding a fireplace. Cel moved towards the couch, but saw the look on Mort's face and chose an armchair instead.
"You've got to be kidding me," Mort said, shaking the letter, "Who'd you get to write this for you?"
"And like I could forge my birth certificate?" Cel replied, "My mother had a miscarriage at a doctor's office when she went to see if she was pregnant. Because the cells of it were still living, a very rare thing, and the doctor suggested that she donate it to a scienctific study called Project Rebirth. She agreed as the project sought to take the living cells of a miscarried fetus and raise it in a lab. The person is me and the mother was your wife."
"How do you know that I was the father?" Mort asked skeptically. He never had believed in that 'miracle science' crap.
"When the divorce came up and your wife, my mother, was found guilty of adultery, the scientists checked my DNA," Cel answered, "It came out positive."
"This certificate says that yesterday was your fifteenth birthday, but my 15th anniversary was only three months ago. My late wife and I had agreed to abstinence until marriage," Mort responded, very distressed that this youth was claiming to be some kid raised by scientists and his daughter.
"Yes, you did make that vow when you were twelve, abstinence, but it was because my development was finished in a laboratory that I became as developed as a new-born baby in two months," Celeste said in a matter-of- fact tone. She was beginning to annoy Mort.
"Yeah right, but my wife had a miscarriage two years ago, not right after we were married." To this Celeste took out another letter, this one was addressed to Celeste.
"This one is from my mother. She thought that she was pregnant a month after she married you and went to the doctor to see. That was when she had the miscarriage and donated the living cells to the project. She knew how you felt about the 'miracle science' crap and decided not to tell you because she knew that you would be upset, especially since the project was not approved by the government," she told her father as he read the letter.
"Maybe it's true, so maybe you...Wait! How'd you know that I took the vow of abstinence and not my wife?" Mort asked suspiciously.
"Your wife, my mother, photocopied your diary and it was revised and read to me as if you wrote me every day," Cel said, removing some papers from the suitcase, "The scientists took everything out that mentioned your writing. They were trying to see if a child raised by those that were not his or her parents would chose the same career as one of its parents. They taught me many different skills."
"And the results of their experiment were?"
"Positive. I began writing when I was nine and have just recently gotten a short story published. I'm working on a novel," Cel said. She removed several notebooks and manuscripts and handed them to her father. Mort selected one and began to read. Her writing was a lot like his, but feeling was expressed in a different way, mostly likely because she was female. He looked at Celeste, her brown eyes showing anxiety about what he might say. Mort thought that he saw part of himself in those eyes, but wasn't quite sure.
"So can I stay?" she asked.
* * * celwriter: I no that some of you were complaining about short chapters, so here you go. I hope you liked it, but remember, no very happy endings in horror stories.
* * *
Chapter 3
Mort looked at the petite girl who stood on his doorstep and thought not again.
"Listen, kid, running away never solves anything. Just go back to your parents and leave a poor writer in peace," Mort told her. Cel looked up at him. His red-streaked deep brown hair lay a little below his chin and glasses carefully framed his handsome brown eyes. A goatee surrounded his light pink lips and he wore a multi-colored rope and brown casual pants.
"I don't think that you understand what I'm here for," she told him politely.
"Coming all the way here for an autograph? Oh, well, I'll need your name." Mort took the envelope out of Cel's hand as she removed it from her pocket.
"My name's Celeste, but.." Cel began.
"Nice name, Celeste, if my wife and I had a child we would have named her that, but now," Mort shook his head, "Anyway, do you have a pen? And I'll need your last name."
"I'm Celeste Rainey," Cel said, knowing that Mort would not believe her, adults never did.
"Yeah, yeah and I'm your long lost uncle, right?" Mort asked sarcastically, "What do you take me for? An idiot?" Cel shook her head and pulled out another piece of paper. She unfolded it and showed it to Mort.
"This is my birth certificate with your name as my father. And this," Cel said, turning over the envelope in Mort's hand to reveal that it was addressed to Mort and from a Dr. Phil E. Sichian, "Is a letter explaining why this is true." Mort opened the letter and began to read.
"May I come in?" Cel asked as she lifted her suitcase. Mort looked up as if he had forgotten that she was there and moved to emit her into his house. It was a tidy living room with two armchairs and a couch surrounding a fireplace. Cel moved towards the couch, but saw the look on Mort's face and chose an armchair instead.
"You've got to be kidding me," Mort said, shaking the letter, "Who'd you get to write this for you?"
"And like I could forge my birth certificate?" Cel replied, "My mother had a miscarriage at a doctor's office when she went to see if she was pregnant. Because the cells of it were still living, a very rare thing, and the doctor suggested that she donate it to a scienctific study called Project Rebirth. She agreed as the project sought to take the living cells of a miscarried fetus and raise it in a lab. The person is me and the mother was your wife."
"How do you know that I was the father?" Mort asked skeptically. He never had believed in that 'miracle science' crap.
"When the divorce came up and your wife, my mother, was found guilty of adultery, the scientists checked my DNA," Cel answered, "It came out positive."
"This certificate says that yesterday was your fifteenth birthday, but my 15th anniversary was only three months ago. My late wife and I had agreed to abstinence until marriage," Mort responded, very distressed that this youth was claiming to be some kid raised by scientists and his daughter.
"Yes, you did make that vow when you were twelve, abstinence, but it was because my development was finished in a laboratory that I became as developed as a new-born baby in two months," Celeste said in a matter-of- fact tone. She was beginning to annoy Mort.
"Yeah right, but my wife had a miscarriage two years ago, not right after we were married." To this Celeste took out another letter, this one was addressed to Celeste.
"This one is from my mother. She thought that she was pregnant a month after she married you and went to the doctor to see. That was when she had the miscarriage and donated the living cells to the project. She knew how you felt about the 'miracle science' crap and decided not to tell you because she knew that you would be upset, especially since the project was not approved by the government," she told her father as he read the letter.
"Maybe it's true, so maybe you...Wait! How'd you know that I took the vow of abstinence and not my wife?" Mort asked suspiciously.
"Your wife, my mother, photocopied your diary and it was revised and read to me as if you wrote me every day," Cel said, removing some papers from the suitcase, "The scientists took everything out that mentioned your writing. They were trying to see if a child raised by those that were not his or her parents would chose the same career as one of its parents. They taught me many different skills."
"And the results of their experiment were?"
"Positive. I began writing when I was nine and have just recently gotten a short story published. I'm working on a novel," Cel said. She removed several notebooks and manuscripts and handed them to her father. Mort selected one and began to read. Her writing was a lot like his, but feeling was expressed in a different way, mostly likely because she was female. He looked at Celeste, her brown eyes showing anxiety about what he might say. Mort thought that he saw part of himself in those eyes, but wasn't quite sure.
"So can I stay?" she asked.
* * * celwriter: I no that some of you were complaining about short chapters, so here you go. I hope you liked it, but remember, no very happy endings in horror stories.
