Summary:

Based on the movie version. Mort Rainey has been driven from town by the frightened citizens. He is forced to drive hours to do his weekly shopping. He is forced to live alone in the cottage, away from the world. Mort realizes all too quickly just what he's done. He stops eating the corn out of disgust. He begins to lock himself in his bathroom daily, terrified of what he might do if allowed back into the world. Then, one day, a weary traveller, Alexander Wright, finds his way to the cottage, seeking refuge, a place to hide for awhile.

Several good flashback moments. It's all psychological and stuff like that.

Oh… and go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory if you've yet to see it…

"I'm sorry. I was having a flashback."

"Do these happen often?"
"Increasingly… today."

I don't own Morton Rainey, or anything else that fits in with this story, except Alex. I own him, and his demented past. That's one thing I own… wee.

Concerning a Murder

Chapter One: Confusion and seclusion

In a cottage in the woods, far from civilized life, Morton Rainey sat quietly in front of his laptop, typing away at some story, headphones on his head and the tune drifting melodically through his mind as the words flowed to the screen. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he typed the last few words and hit the save button. This story was finished.

"Well, looks like another story finished. And this one ended perfectly." He smiled broadly as he stared at the screen a bit more. A small gurgle came to his ears as he pulled the headphones off and he looked down at his stomach.

"All right. I get it. I'll eat something." He stood and walked downstairs to the kitchen, pulling out a plate and getting an ear of corn from the steaming pot. He buttered the corn and salted it, lifting it gently to his lips to take a bite. He stopped the corn inches from his face.

"I'm sure that in time, every bit of her will be gone, and her death will be a mystery, even to me."

Blinking rapidly, Mort pushed the sentence from his mind. It was an old story, one he'd finished a long time ago. He didn't know why that last sentence kept cropping up in his mind whenever he ate. Pulling his jacket off and sitting in front of the fire while he ate, Mort sighed and began to think about the past few days.

"I don't get it… Why is it they're all flowing so well. It's like these stories are just pouring out of me now. I wish Amy was here to see this. She'd be pretty proud." Mort stopped and stared at the fire. "I wonder where she is, she and Teddy. It's been forever since I've heard from either of them…"

Leaning back, Mort set his plate down and closed his eyes.

A scream erupted from Amy. The shovel fell, hitting Ted over and over again. Mort turned and looked to Amy. He saw the fear in her eyes and grinned.

" 'I know I can do it,' Todd Downey said, helping himself to another ear of corn from the steamin' bowl. I'm sure that in time, her death will be a mystery, even to me.' "

Mort swung the shovel and dug in. Dirt came up and fell back into a hole. He planted the rows of corn over the bodies, smiling all the while.

The room was silent as he then began to clean, refinishing all the wood and getting rid of every trace of John Shooter. He sat down on the couch and drank deeply from the Jack Daniel's at his side. Then, he threw out the bottle, done with the stuff forever.

Mort's eyes shot open. He blinked several times and stared at the fire. "What the hell was that?" His mind was coming back into foggy focus and he could almost register that the phone was ringing. After five rings, Mort finally heard it and leapt from the couch, running to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Mort's voice remained calm and awake, even while his mind still rushed to understand the dream.

"Mr. Rainey? It's Sheriff Newsome. I was calling to let you know that you actually need to take my advice. Stay out of town. People are complaining and several people have left Tashmore Lakes out of fear of their own lives."

"Oh, Sheriff. Oh, yeah, yeah. I'll definitely stop going into town. I forgot that you'd said that. I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry anyone." Mort smiled as he moved to hang up the phone. A thought crossed his mind then, and he put the phone back to his ear. "Hey, Newsome?"

"Yes, Mr. Rainey?" The voice on the other end was nervous, frightened.

"I've got a small question. A slight favor. I need a little help out here. I'm movin' things around, fixing a hole in the roof, stuff like that. Do you know of any good service I could call? I can't do it all on my own."

"There's a place in New London. Johnson and Brooks. They're a pretty good little company. Don't have the phone number on me, but you can find it in the phone book. They helped me when that storm broke my roof in last month, remember?"

Mort nodded deftly. "Yeah, I remember something about it. Thanks a lot Dave."

"Sure… Mr. Rainey… Sure thing." The phone line went dead and Mort sat a few minutes with the phone against his ear.

Sighing heavily for about the tenth time that day, Mort finally set the phone on its cradle. He slid down against the wall and stared at the far wall, thinking quickly and furiously. He didn't remember too much of the dream he'd just had anymore. All he remembered was the line from his book and the shovel.

Standing swiftly, Mort ran out to the tool shed and rummaged through everything. He pulled out the shovel that he'd seen in the dream.

The shovel made a sickening crack-thump each time it plunged into Ted's face. Mort paid little attention to the screaming Amy and his busted lip. He turned and smiled at Amy.

Mort threw the shovel down as the memory faded once again to the back of his mind. "What's going on with me? That never happened… Did it?"

Mort rushed back into the house and went to the kitchen, grabbing another ear of corn.

"…her death will be a mystery, even to me."

"Even to me?" Mort's eyes widened and he set the corn down once more. "Her death? Amy's death? No… No they're just living somewhere else now. They left town is all. They're both still alive."

Mort pulled himself step by step to his bedroom. He threw himself down on the bed and forced himself to sleep, believing rest was all he needed.

"It's mine… Wasn't ever anybody else's."

"Mort. What's wrong?"

"You got you a wrong number Missus. Ain't no Mort here. Mort's dead. He did a whole lot of squirmin' around, but in the end, he couldn't lie to himself anymore. Let alone to me. Now I never put a hand on him Missus, I swear. He took the coward's way out."

"Why are you talking this way?"

"Just the way I talk."

"You're scaring me."

"It don't matter. You won't be scared for long."

Mort woke, sweat pouring down his face and chest. He gasped loudly, trying, with much difficulty, to catch his breath. He looked desperately around the room, hoping for an answer to it all. He was greeted with darkness and the sound of his own gasping breaths.

"What is wrong with me?" Mort pressed his hands over his eyes. "Why am I remembering doing this stuff? Did I actually do it?"

Mort closed his eyes and leaned back on the bed. "I did… I remember it. I did that. I killed Amy. She didn't move. I murdered her. I slaughtered Ted right before her face, then I did her in. I buried them in that garden… I buried them where the corn is now. I-" Mort's eyes widened and he let out a disgusted grunt. "I'm never eating corn again!"

Mort stood and ran down the stairs, picking up a flashlight as he ran out the door. He ran all the way to the tool shed and grabbed the shovel. Then, panting for air, but determined, he rushed to where the corn grew. He began to mutilate the stalks of corn, one by one, until all that was left was a mass of dead corn and weeds. He threw the shovel to the ground and ran to the house again. He didn't stop until he got all the way to the upstairs bathroom. Stopping in front of the mirror, Mort glared across at his reflection.

"What have I been doing with my life? What's wrong with you Mort? You killed them… and soon, they'll find the bodies. They'll have the evidence, and you'll go to jail. What the hell is wrong with you Mort!"

He stepped away from the mirror and slumped to the floor, whimpering slightly at the night. "What is wrong with me?" His eyes slid closed as his body relaxed against the bathroom wall. Silence fell once more on the cottage and Mort fell asleep, tossing and turning on the bathroom floor in fits of fear.

TBC

First Chapter… It's a quick start story, but I don't intend it to be all too long… That's why.