Secret Within {ON HOLD}

Chapter III

– Mort Rainey –

My hands trace the spines of my books on my shelf, searching for the right book. I pull off my book "Everybody Drops the Dime" and make my way up the stairs to my study.

I place the book on my laptop, and drop the manuscript to the right of it, preparing to draw some comparisons.

I sit down, scooting the chair forward a little and pushing back the hair that keeps falling into my eyes. I sigh, and open the book to the contents page. I trace my finger down to the story "Secret Window."

Page 197, I think, repeating the number in my head as I flip to the page. Immediately, I start reading the novel, glancing between the manuscript and my own story.

"A woman who would steal your love when your love was all you had wasn't much of a woman. That at least was Tommy Haverlock's opinion. He decided to kill her."

I readjust my glasses, squinting my eyes in refusal of believing that these two stories are nearly identical. Which, indeed, they are almost exactly the same.

Almost.

"He even knew the place he would bury her. The exact place. The little patch of garden she kept in the extreme angle formed where the old and new parts of the house came together. He'd bury her in the garden she loved more than she loved him."

I blink slowly, remembering what gave me the idea of my story. Her discovery gave me the idea to write "Secret Window," especially when she had taken a great deal of interest in this window with this isolated garden.

I shift my gaze over to my right, where the small square window displays the outside world. The wind breezes a little, shaking the tree branches in gentility. Like it had all those years ago.

The garden she loved more than she loved... me.

I hear Amy, my wife, asking in the back of my mind, "Why don't you come to the flea market with me. It'll be fun."

My mind wanders to the time we bought this house. When Amy was still mine...

Amy, wearing my bathrobe that I have on right now, walked gracefully across the wooden boards with her agile feet. She had a teacup filled with hot tea, glancing at me as she sighed with a slight shake of her head. With a wave of her hand in gesture to the cluttered study, she said, "We've got to get rid of some of this stuff. Look at this,it's awful."

She placed her teacup on a ledge and grabbed a chest of drawers, pushing it away. "No wonder they left it."

She completely moved the chest of drawers over, revealing the small square window. Just like one I wrote about in "Secret Window."

"Oh my God, look. There's a window!" she exclaimed, throwing me an excited glance as she bent down to look outside of the dusty smudged panes. She brushed a strand of her light blonde hair behind her ear, returning her eyes to the nature outside.

She brought her eyes back to mine as she knelt down on her knees, her beautiful, pure, mischievous smile crossed her face as she said, "It's a secret window."

She opened it, and admired, "Oh, this is perfect. I'm gonna put my garden right there."

She turned back to me, and said with her smirk, happiness gleaming in her eyes, "It's a secret window and it'll look down on a secret garden."

Her image fades away, and I blink, the vision gone within seconds. I lower my eyes, the heartache seeping in my veins. I exhale a weary sigh, deciding to accept the oddity of remembering such a memory, and to keep the bitterness at bay. "Huh."