Post by veronicaaaahhhh on Jun 14, 2006 4:26:30 GMT -5
Vanessa lies alone in a room of white; she has just awoken. Her body lies surrounded by pale sheets, heavy over her structure, covered by a white tank top and white panties. She slowly turns her head towards the night table to find that it’s a little past the tenth hour of the day; everyone’s gone, she’s home alone. Good, his damn turn to take her to school for a change!
Vanessa digs her hands deep into the mattress and rises. She leans to the side and drops the upper side of her body to the floor; reaching out for a purse. She takes a look outside the window to find they sky gray and street wet; that feeling has returned. That feeling that comes along with the weather… the kind where everything feels like a haze. She opens the purse and unearths a box of Virginia Slims; housewife’s choice? She places a stick between her lips and reaches into the bag once again to withdraw an old lighter; red and white striped, with a couple penguins centered in the middle. Cute; it’s an heirloom. She places the lighter before her and flicks it on- nothing. She tries again- nothing.
Vanessa:
(Murmur’s)
F**k...
She tries again, but the damn thing just doesn’t want to work. She drops the lighter onto the bed, ditches the cigarette. She scratches her head of flames and motions out of the bed. She slowly slides her legs off the sheets and soon feels carpet beneath her. She looks down at her feet, rises, and proceeds to walk forward.
But a heavy and fleeting change surrounds her world. Her white room has changed. The area has become dense. She stands atop in a brown balcony, as the sky above her has rusted in color. She looks down at her body to find that her clothes have also changed; tight black denim jeans, and a dark sheer, barely concealing the points in her chest. A fleeting noise soon crashes into her world like thunder; it is the sound of a thousand horses heading towards her path. She turns her head backwards, and finds a horde of pierced horses charging her way. She frantically looks for a way out, but finds only one way- down. They trot her towards Vanessa with fierce anger. She runs towards the edge of the balcony, peering down at a bottomless pit; the horses draw near. She takes a look down, closes her eyes, says a quick and silent prayer and falls.
To her astonishment, the fall only lasted a few mere seconds. She lands rough, on her ass, in a familiar surface. She has a hunch where she is; instinct, woman’s intuition. The room stands a dark, but suddenly, a blinding spotlight shines over her. She pulls herself upward and takes a glance around: she’s in a ring. She walks over to the turnbuckle, but with every waking step, the farther it becomes.
Vanessa:
Oh, sweet finally. Unlike someone, you all may very well know, I’m not going to complain. But like that someone, I’m going to start looking ahead. No one knows how long it’s been… It’s almost like leaving an Eagle in a bird cage for ten years, and finally giving her freedom. She spreads her wings, but for some reason, she finds it hard to fly. She’s almost lost that one sensation that made her unique, but something you gotta hand to her is that she doesn’t give up; she doesn’t back away. She learns to fly again…
Vanessa lifts her gaze upwards, to find an eagle swiftly passing over her head; it’s shadow a hundred times bigger under the spotlight. She slowly drops into the canvass and watches the bird. She brings her hands together, looks above; her hands have made a shadow puppet of a bird.
Vanessa:
I remember the last time I was in the ring. I’m pretty f**king sure that it was viewed by no less than a thousand people, but it was memorable. I firmly believe that a show, with that sort of capacity, has such an insurmountable energy, so much more than a show with twenty-thousand people in attendance. It’s esoteric, to say the least. It isn’t Wrestlemania, but it’s sacred.
I’m looking forward, that I can not deny. Next week, it’ll be the first time I step into the ring since God knows how long. I’ve been in a lot of matches, but why do I feel so different about this one? I’m exited, but I’m also scared. Since last night, I’ve pretty much placed a lid on all my emotions; it’s way too overwhelming. Why should it be, but why shouldn’t it be? Up until five years ago, that’s pretty much how I felt with every new match. It’s a feeling that grows on you; it’s actually fun. You step through an entrance curtain, world switching before you. A second you’re backstage, everything’s fine. The next, you stand, often alone, in front of a bunch of people who’ve paid to see you. As you walk down that isle to the ring, the ring begins to feel a thousand miles away. You want it to end, but you don’t. Because if ends, you won’t be able to feel that euphoric rush that comes to being in the match; something you want to savor. And you’ll kill yourself if you didn’t. I want so badly to feel that, and that’s exactly what I do when I get to Odium… If I win, I’ll get a little high.
I’m nearing the end of my little rant, so I’m just going to go along with everyone else, and mindlessly antagonize my opponents; nothing new, just standard procedure. Scratch Cat- go do your “thang”; it’s cute. In the animal kingdom, it’s usually the feline which plays the role of the hunter; aves, its prey. And you’re all probably finishing the sentence for me already… Let’s say it together… “On Odium, the role’s gonna change!-”… God, “The hunted, becomes the hunter!” Dun, dun, dunt!
Lydia, I’ve seen your stuff. I know what you’re capable off… Wayne has a video of yours in the closet; top shelf, in a little white plastic box in the right; right next to my nana’s wedding gown. Yeah.
Vivica… Call me. Let’s have coffee or something…
Vanessa walks towards the turnbuckle once again- and it’s there. She clenches the ropes around it, closes her eyes, and leaps into the top rope; back facing the mat. She says a quick and silent prayer and dives off. She throws her body backwards into a moonsault; as her head directly hover over the canvass, she twists her body 360; a corkscrew, then flies with her body facing the canvass. She takes an over head flip; a 450, and excellently completes it. She twists herself with another 450- making it a 900... And she gracefully crashes… Into her bed. She’s back home. Alone in her white world; with her white walls, under her white sheets, in her white tank top, in her white panties.
Vanessa digs her hands deep into the mattress and rises. She leans to the side and drops the upper side of her body to the floor; reaching out for a purse. She takes a look outside the window to find they sky gray and street wet; that feeling has returned. That feeling that comes along with the weather… the kind where everything feels like a haze. She opens the purse and unearths a box of Virginia Slims; housewife’s choice? She places a stick between her lips and reaches into the bag once again to withdraw an old lighter; red and white striped, with a couple penguins centered in the middle. Cute; it’s an heirloom. She places the lighter before her and flicks it on- nothing. She tries again- nothing.
Vanessa:
(Murmur’s)
F**k...
She tries again, but the damn thing just doesn’t want to work. She drops the lighter onto the bed, ditches the cigarette. She scratches her head of flames and motions out of the bed. She slowly slides her legs off the sheets and soon feels carpet beneath her. She looks down at her feet, rises, and proceeds to walk forward.
But a heavy and fleeting change surrounds her world. Her white room has changed. The area has become dense. She stands atop in a brown balcony, as the sky above her has rusted in color. She looks down at her body to find that her clothes have also changed; tight black denim jeans, and a dark sheer, barely concealing the points in her chest. A fleeting noise soon crashes into her world like thunder; it is the sound of a thousand horses heading towards her path. She turns her head backwards, and finds a horde of pierced horses charging her way. She frantically looks for a way out, but finds only one way- down. They trot her towards Vanessa with fierce anger. She runs towards the edge of the balcony, peering down at a bottomless pit; the horses draw near. She takes a look down, closes her eyes, says a quick and silent prayer and falls.
To her astonishment, the fall only lasted a few mere seconds. She lands rough, on her ass, in a familiar surface. She has a hunch where she is; instinct, woman’s intuition. The room stands a dark, but suddenly, a blinding spotlight shines over her. She pulls herself upward and takes a glance around: she’s in a ring. She walks over to the turnbuckle, but with every waking step, the farther it becomes.
Vanessa:
Oh, sweet finally. Unlike someone, you all may very well know, I’m not going to complain. But like that someone, I’m going to start looking ahead. No one knows how long it’s been… It’s almost like leaving an Eagle in a bird cage for ten years, and finally giving her freedom. She spreads her wings, but for some reason, she finds it hard to fly. She’s almost lost that one sensation that made her unique, but something you gotta hand to her is that she doesn’t give up; she doesn’t back away. She learns to fly again…
Vanessa lifts her gaze upwards, to find an eagle swiftly passing over her head; it’s shadow a hundred times bigger under the spotlight. She slowly drops into the canvass and watches the bird. She brings her hands together, looks above; her hands have made a shadow puppet of a bird.
Vanessa:
I remember the last time I was in the ring. I’m pretty f**king sure that it was viewed by no less than a thousand people, but it was memorable. I firmly believe that a show, with that sort of capacity, has such an insurmountable energy, so much more than a show with twenty-thousand people in attendance. It’s esoteric, to say the least. It isn’t Wrestlemania, but it’s sacred.
I’m looking forward, that I can not deny. Next week, it’ll be the first time I step into the ring since God knows how long. I’ve been in a lot of matches, but why do I feel so different about this one? I’m exited, but I’m also scared. Since last night, I’ve pretty much placed a lid on all my emotions; it’s way too overwhelming. Why should it be, but why shouldn’t it be? Up until five years ago, that’s pretty much how I felt with every new match. It’s a feeling that grows on you; it’s actually fun. You step through an entrance curtain, world switching before you. A second you’re backstage, everything’s fine. The next, you stand, often alone, in front of a bunch of people who’ve paid to see you. As you walk down that isle to the ring, the ring begins to feel a thousand miles away. You want it to end, but you don’t. Because if ends, you won’t be able to feel that euphoric rush that comes to being in the match; something you want to savor. And you’ll kill yourself if you didn’t. I want so badly to feel that, and that’s exactly what I do when I get to Odium… If I win, I’ll get a little high.
I’m nearing the end of my little rant, so I’m just going to go along with everyone else, and mindlessly antagonize my opponents; nothing new, just standard procedure. Scratch Cat- go do your “thang”; it’s cute. In the animal kingdom, it’s usually the feline which plays the role of the hunter; aves, its prey. And you’re all probably finishing the sentence for me already… Let’s say it together… “On Odium, the role’s gonna change!-”… God, “The hunted, becomes the hunter!” Dun, dun, dunt!
Lydia, I’ve seen your stuff. I know what you’re capable off… Wayne has a video of yours in the closet; top shelf, in a little white plastic box in the right; right next to my nana’s wedding gown. Yeah.
Vivica… Call me. Let’s have coffee or something…
Vanessa walks towards the turnbuckle once again- and it’s there. She clenches the ropes around it, closes her eyes, and leaps into the top rope; back facing the mat. She says a quick and silent prayer and dives off. She throws her body backwards into a moonsault; as her head directly hover over the canvass, she twists her body 360; a corkscrew, then flies with her body facing the canvass. She takes an over head flip; a 450, and excellently completes it. She twists herself with another 450- making it a 900... And she gracefully crashes… Into her bed. She’s back home. Alone in her white world; with her white walls, under her white sheets, in her white tank top, in her white panties.
