Celwriter: How's it going? For someone, I was trying to say I love Johnny Depp, not I lover you Johnny Depp, big difference when you translate it into French. Anyway, here is the next chapter.
* * *
Chapter 6

Mort watched as John Shooter walks down the stairs and out the front door. He did love Celeste even though he was not sure if she was really his daughter, but he was sure, something inside him told Mort that it was true.

Mort sat on the couch thinking for a bit. Once he had cooled of a bit, Mort began to wonder what John Shooter had come to talk to him about. Mort had been quite defensive even though Shooter had not made any threats or offensive moves. Might it be that John was really trying to warn Mort of Cel? But why would Shooter be trying to protect Mort from being hurt by Cel when Shooter himself had hurt Mort?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Cel sat on her bed, thinking over all that she heard. The people in the store must have known or at least guessed that John Shooter was a figment of Mort's imagination. This gave new meaning to the term 'imaginary friend.'

Cel had also discovered that John Shooter, or Mort, had killed her mother, but she somehow didn't care. Her mother must have drove Mort crazy and he killed Amy to regain his sanity. Cel would have done anything to have a family. It didn't matter what Mort had done, she'd rather be dead than lose the look of love in her father's eyes. From the conversation Cel had heard, it seemed to be the same for Mort.

Cel slid back under the covers and wondered what had happened during her mother's murder. She also wondered where the body of Amy was now. Thoughts flowed through Cel's head has she slowly drifted from consciousness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the morning, neither mentioned the events of the night before as Cel and Mort sat in the kitchen eating oatmeal meal and corn on the cob. They talked for a while trying to put off the attic as long as possible. At around 10:30, they drudged up the stairs and pulled down the latch.

The attic was filled with piles and piles of boxes. There was a bed and a dresser for Cel to use, so they cleared out an area for Cel's bedroom. They searched the boxes for any useful items and Mort found many old memorabilia.

"Oh, I remember this," Mort said, lifting a #1 finger, "It was the first baseball game Amy and I went to. As the last batter came up, he hit a fly- ball to left field. It was then that your mother leaned over and kissed me. I was soo shocked that this finger went flying. It was the batter that signed it," Mort smile, "It had been the bottom of the ninth with two outs and a tie score."

Cel smiled too. Her eyes traveled to an old, black hat with a flat, wide brim. Just as she was about to put it on, Mort snatched it away.

* * *

celwriter: no, hil, I did not write myself into the story. Any writer knows that to make a character, you have to place pieces of yourself on paper, but never the whole thing, or you might go mad and kill 4 people and stab your dog through the head with a screwdriver.