Post by hardyz on Apr 16, 2007 18:07:27 GMT -5
We are outside of an old apartment building. It still looks lived in, but very old, and grungy. The moon is full, and is shining down upon various clothing items hanging on the clothes line. There is a small dirt road serving for a driveway, leading in from the street. At the end of this road, sits a 1971 Boss Mustang, with the hood up, and parts taken out. The motor sits on a hand-crafted stand, made specifically for the heavy engine. Through the front door, we catch a glimpse of a man sitting in the far corner, asleep, bundled up under some trash. We head upstairs, past the torn up wallpaper and missing rods from the railing. Four doors to four apartments align the hallway. One on the far left, two next to each other in the middle, and one, at the very end of the hallway. We stand, completely still, staring down the hallway at the final door. The view switches, and we are now inside of the very room we looked upon just moments ago. There really isn't anything special about this room. A lone table, in the middle of the room, with a bottle of "Wild Turkey" whiskey, half empty, resting atop it. A rather large, spinning fan, in the wall, with the moon shining through. This is all that sets this room apart from a confined cell. The spinning blades, briefly every second, break up the shine coming through from the full moon. Behind the table, sits a man, rested in a chair. He has on black boots, and a pair of black jeans. He wears no shirt, exposing his muscular chest. His hair, longer than usual, laying motionless over his face. The man quickly throws his head back, relieving his face of the medium length bangs. His face, ever so famous, is now exposed, revealing him to be "The High Horror" Shawn Thomas. He sits there, just staring into nothing. He grabs up the bottle of whiskey, and twists the bottle cap off. He throws it over his shoulder, and takes a long swig, almost emptying the bottle. He slams it down, hard onto the table, and lays back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. He lets his head hang for a few seconds, before throwing it back. He sits, staring at the ceiling, as if he were looking for the answers to an ageless question.
Fading, falling, lost in forever......Will I find a way to keep it together? Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?Can it be a conscious decision? That I look for ways to alter my vision? Am I speeding towards another collision in the alleyways of my life?
Memories don't lie. You know better. Memories don't lie. You know better than the ones who have fallen in......
Horror closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. He lets it out, as he drops his head once more. He sits up, placing his elbows on his knees. He rubs his hands through his long hair, before resting his head in his hands.
There's too much anger inside me....There's too much scarring when I bleed.......There's too much therapy I need.......There is no god that I have seen.
Horror stands up, and walks over towards a window on the far left of the room. He gently pulls the curtain back, looking outside. He places his left hand in his pocket, and rests his head against the brick wall.
Last week, on the House Shows, I suffered the biggest loss of my career. I lost a singles match to Josh Dean, my partner tonight. Ever since, I questioned my ability. I questioned, my partnership. I questioned, my passion, for this sport.
Horror pulls himself away from this window, and makes his way towards another. He pulls the curtain away, same as before, and stares into the night. A few seconds later, he pulls a Zippo lighter from out of his right pocket. He flips the top open, as a wild flame dances in front of his very eyes.
My passion, for this great sport, used to burn and dance inside me, just like this here flame.
A few seconds go by, and the flame begins to die down. Before it dies down completely, Horror jerks his hand, closing the the lighter. The flame disappears as fast as a speeding bullet. Horror holds the lighter tightly.
But what do you do, when the wild flame inside you....is extinguished in the matter of moments? I had to go on a search, to find out for myself. And on that search, I suffered more losses, and a few wins. But it wasn't until I beat Reckless and Dead Idol....
Horror flicks the lighter back on as the flame dances wildly once again.
That I realized that the fire was still there. It was shortly after that match, that I realized, the fire still burns.
Horror closes the lighter again, and carefully places it in his pocket. He slowly departs from the window and makes his way back to his seat. He sits down slowly, carefully laying back in the chair once again. He lays his head back, and continues his trance upon the ceiling.
A sensation washes over me....I can't describe it......Pain I felt so long ago.....I don't remember.......Tear a hole so I can see.....My devastation........Feelings from so long ago......I don't remember.......
Horror picks up the bottle, and throws it across the room. It shatters against the wall, as “Wild Turkey” spills across the floor and wall. He holds his head in his hands again, and starts to mumble words. We can't make them out, but just when they stop, Horror rips his hands from his face and yells. He breathes heavily as he stares deep into our hearts.
Thunder. Kurt. This Wednesday, we find ourselves put inside of a squared circle in a tag match. Just like The Warriors of the Battle of Thermopylae, we are going to war. Its all or nothing this time around. For too long, have Dean and I sat idly by and watched you tarnish those titles. And for far too long, have the four of us been through hell. I will sweat. I will bleed. I will drive myself to the Razors Edge of Oblivion and back! To get what we so rightfully deserve. A victory! After the glass shatters. After the sweat is poured. After the blood is spilled. A new age will begin in WFWF. A new era will reign supreme. The Horror-Dean era. Revolution, you beat Dean before. But you have never gone against the likes of me! But this match isn't revenge for him or me....no no no....this isn't Vengeance. This is an act, of emotion. This....is....punishment. This Wednesday, Pain....is Redefined......
Horror gets up from out of his seat, and heads towards the first window in the room. He rips the curtain down, throwing it against the hardwood floor. He slams his fists against the brick, and stares out of the window. He stares up at the sky. Up at the moon. He stares into his destiny. He stares, knowing that after this Brutal Hell he must endure is all over, he will be recognized, as one of the few, along with Dean, that beat The Revolution.
Fading, falling, lost in forever......Will I find a way to keep it together? Am I strong enough to last through the weather in the hurricane of my life?Can it be a conscious decision? That I look for ways to alter my vision? Am I speeding towards another collision in the alleyways of my life?
Memories don't lie. You know better. Memories don't lie. You know better than the ones who have fallen in......
Horror closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. He lets it out, as he drops his head once more. He sits up, placing his elbows on his knees. He rubs his hands through his long hair, before resting his head in his hands.
There's too much anger inside me....There's too much scarring when I bleed.......There's too much therapy I need.......There is no god that I have seen.
Horror stands up, and walks over towards a window on the far left of the room. He gently pulls the curtain back, looking outside. He places his left hand in his pocket, and rests his head against the brick wall.
Last week, on the House Shows, I suffered the biggest loss of my career. I lost a singles match to Josh Dean, my partner tonight. Ever since, I questioned my ability. I questioned, my partnership. I questioned, my passion, for this sport.
Horror pulls himself away from this window, and makes his way towards another. He pulls the curtain away, same as before, and stares into the night. A few seconds later, he pulls a Zippo lighter from out of his right pocket. He flips the top open, as a wild flame dances in front of his very eyes.
My passion, for this great sport, used to burn and dance inside me, just like this here flame.
A few seconds go by, and the flame begins to die down. Before it dies down completely, Horror jerks his hand, closing the the lighter. The flame disappears as fast as a speeding bullet. Horror holds the lighter tightly.
But what do you do, when the wild flame inside you....is extinguished in the matter of moments? I had to go on a search, to find out for myself. And on that search, I suffered more losses, and a few wins. But it wasn't until I beat Reckless and Dead Idol....
Horror flicks the lighter back on as the flame dances wildly once again.
That I realized that the fire was still there. It was shortly after that match, that I realized, the fire still burns.
Horror closes the lighter again, and carefully places it in his pocket. He slowly departs from the window and makes his way back to his seat. He sits down slowly, carefully laying back in the chair once again. He lays his head back, and continues his trance upon the ceiling.
A sensation washes over me....I can't describe it......Pain I felt so long ago.....I don't remember.......Tear a hole so I can see.....My devastation........Feelings from so long ago......I don't remember.......
Horror picks up the bottle, and throws it across the room. It shatters against the wall, as “Wild Turkey” spills across the floor and wall. He holds his head in his hands again, and starts to mumble words. We can't make them out, but just when they stop, Horror rips his hands from his face and yells. He breathes heavily as he stares deep into our hearts.
Thunder. Kurt. This Wednesday, we find ourselves put inside of a squared circle in a tag match. Just like The Warriors of the Battle of Thermopylae, we are going to war. Its all or nothing this time around. For too long, have Dean and I sat idly by and watched you tarnish those titles. And for far too long, have the four of us been through hell. I will sweat. I will bleed. I will drive myself to the Razors Edge of Oblivion and back! To get what we so rightfully deserve. A victory! After the glass shatters. After the sweat is poured. After the blood is spilled. A new age will begin in WFWF. A new era will reign supreme. The Horror-Dean era. Revolution, you beat Dean before. But you have never gone against the likes of me! But this match isn't revenge for him or me....no no no....this isn't Vengeance. This is an act, of emotion. This....is....punishment. This Wednesday, Pain....is Redefined......
Horror gets up from out of his seat, and heads towards the first window in the room. He rips the curtain down, throwing it against the hardwood floor. He slams his fists against the brick, and stares out of the window. He stares up at the sky. Up at the moon. He stares into his destiny. He stares, knowing that after this Brutal Hell he must endure is all over, he will be recognized, as one of the few, along with Dean, that beat The Revolution.
