Follow the Trail - V - Memories and New Beginnings
Sept 29, 2018 5:05:26 GMT -5
Holden Ross and Gerard Angelo like this
Post by The Anarchist on Sept 29, 2018 5:05:26 GMT -5
In the end my best wasn’t good enough.
I gave it everything I had. I fought against the persecution from Loki and his unacceptable ban of my wife from ringside. I fought against the faithful who decided to turn their backs on me during the course of the action. I fought against the slow count of the referee. I fought against the onslaught of Kyle Shane’s abilities.
In the end none of it mattered.
Kyle Shane was the better man for the second time, and instead of losing my World Title, I lost my hair. I was forced to embarrass myself by saying he was right! It made me sick to my stomach. GOD was supposed to put me in a place for victory...but I lost myself in the heat of battle. Self inflicted sin set the domino effect and before I knew it, VATS turned the lights out.
Congratulations, Kyle.
Sure, I could’ve used Gabriel’s help well before my shoulders were pinned. Perhaps that’s why he showed up to lay the attack he did. Yes, I’m sure that’s why! Gabriel knew he did wrong and was making up for it. It didn’t excuse his lack of commitment to the cause, but it was a start. Watching the chair go CRACK CRACK CRACK on Kyle’s battle worn body washed away the impurity of loss.
The sight of his agony.
The sound of his pain.
A consolation, sure, but it was mine! I had won against Kyle after all. Little did he know that I cashed in my rematch clause for the World Title after the cameras were off. Little could he expect that I also brought Gabriel into the matter. I was going to reclaim what was mine. Gabriel was going to help me achieve that. I stepped aside in the Icemann Invitational to advance him to glory.
He lost that night. He owes me this. He owes me everything I afforded him upon rebirth.
Deadly Intentions. It was at that event last year that I, to coin a phrase Kyle likes saying, “called my shot” and backed it up. Twice. I pinned Whitey Ford for the World Title, but in the process, denied Grimm another reign. I then turned around and won the Deadly Rumble, denying EVERYONE a chance to directly challenge at Collision Course. I sent PCW into chaos.
But that was last year. This year I would have to repeat my championship success. Another triple threat, but with an ally, not an opponent, to help get to that.
There would be no ban.
There would be no sin.
There would be no slow counting.
There would only be me standing triumphant as a two time World Champion. There would only be the faithful admitting they were wrong. There would only be GOD shining his light down. There would only be Gabriel sharing in the glory.
There would only be the praising of Seromine. The praising of the LORD.
--------
“It’ll grow back, babe.”
“So will the hair on your legs.”
“Heh, which is why I sha---”
Destiny gets a frown. She has her mouth covered to stifle her error, but you can tell from her muscle movement that she’s also smiling. Her eyes are pleading with sympathy as she comforts Seromine in the reflection of their bedroom mirror.
“Sorry!” she proclaims before kissing him on the cheek. “You know I love you no matter what.”
He nods in agreement. “I just hope my hair grows back fast. I know I’m getting older, but having my head shaved was never on the bucket list.”
Destiny squeezes his body as tight as her arms will allow her to. “Don’t worry about it. If it bugs you that much, we can always buy you a wig!”
He laughs as she partially sticks her tongue out.
The children found amusement for the sake of amusement, but adjusted to the sight quicker than he had thought they would. That’s all this was. A temporary setback. A minor adjustment. A professional wrestling heel being humbled by the disgusting face…
Seromine and Destiny remained in front of the mirror.
“Were you able to make those calls?”
“Of course. It’s all been taken care of. By this time next week, Labyrinth Grove will only exist in the past.”
Seromine kisses Destiny’s hand as she smiles over the thought of being free of that place. She unwraps her arms and goes over to sit on the bed.
“The city can level everything as far as I’m concerned.” she openly admits. “For the life of me I can’t figure out why we bought the place.”
Seromine turns to face her and with absolutely no shame, launches into song.
“Mem’ries light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were.”
He makes her break into hysterics. Seromine gets onto a knee, then helps her close her right hand into a fist so it can be used as a microphone.
“Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were.”
He’s unable to get through the last few words before her infectious laughter draws him in. She grabs the sides of his face, pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so silly.”
“Yeah, I’m something. Streisand better watch out! Heck, They might as well get my Grammy award ready!”
“Listen...” Destiny shifts her eyes to the floor for a minor second. “Why don’t we go take one last look? The children won’t be back until later. There’s still plenty of daylight. We won’t stay long, just long enough.”
Seromine looks surprised. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the place?”
“I don’t. I just thought it’d be nice to take one last look. If you don’t want to that’s fine. I won’t be upset either way.”
“No, No. I don’t have any objections.”
She looks at him. “Well then, let’s go.”
–----
Labyrinth Grove was accessible right off the 101 (Ventura Fwy) in under an hour and a half. Give or take for traffic of course. Seromine was behind the wheel this time. Scant clouds were in the sky. The temperature was a comfortable 72 degrees, so this was a good time to go there.
Unless…
“What the HELL?!”
The property was gone. All that remained was unpaved roads, uprooted trees, and the foundation of where the farmhouse once was. Seromine parked the vehicle where they always had. They sat in stunned silence over the sight of the barren land. HOW was this even possible??
“Well, hun, you called it. The city leveled the place. Say, what will the lotto numbers be tonight? I figure we could stop off somewhere on the drive home and get in on the action.”
“Ha ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”
“I like to think I have my moments, yes.”
Destiny smirks. “If I had known this place was going to be gone, I would have wrote a eulogy for it.”
Seromine has a laugh. Destiny reaches over and turns on the radio.
They look at one another. “Woah. I haven’t heard this song in years.”
“Remember when I introduced you to it?”
He nods. “How could I forget? We barred our souls while it played.”
“And had our first kiss and was the first time we said I love you.”
She holds his right hand tight and interlocks her fingers between his. As she lays her head down on his shoulder, he gently kisses it and rests his own against hers. The song was their only hit and had been an intended side project for Siobhan Fahey after she departed Bananarama in the late eighties. Along with Siobhan on vocals, was Marcella Detroit, a highly accomplished singer in her own right, who spent time in the seventies backing up Eric Clapton.
The song itself dealt with a woman fighting with the angel of death over her lover, who was about to die. In the end, death loses. Both Seromine and Destiny dealt with abusive parents, just on different ends of the spectrum. It was six months into their relationship at the time in 1996. He was still seventeen, with July arriving the following month. She had turned sixteen that March. They met late the previous year. It was an instant attraction from the start and if you were to ask them, an instant bond.
Once their initial shyness was removed of course.
“Hello!” a voice called from the distance with a wave.
He looked around to find the source of the kind greeting. Once he did, he awkwardly waved back to her. She smiled as she approached.
“Hello.” she repeated.
“Hi. How are you?”
“My name is Destiny. I---”
He chuckles. Destiny stops herself from continuing. “What?”
“I asked how you were. But---”
“Oh!” she says while blushing. “I got caught up in---and well---”
“It’s nice to meet you, Destiny. My name is Jason.”
She smiles. “I knew that, silly. I just finally worked up the courage to come talk to you.”
“Ohh, I see.”
“Yeah...” she looks away. “I’ve been wanting to for some time. I’m not always this shy, you know. I mean, I’m not shy.”
He nods while listening. “It’s ok. I’m a bit shy myself, so I understand.”
The memory may not be exactly -as- it happened, but it was close enough.
The property was always dotted with orange groves. The unpaved road stretched for one hundred feet off the main road which went into a bend near the large weathered barn. Another fifty feet ahead, snuggled in front of an apple orchard was a two story farm house built in 1911. The interior kept some of the rustic charms, but most fixtures were up to modern times.
This was a place for those with behavioral problems. The program was equal parts therapy and school. Ages ranged from fourteen to eighteen and numbered ten in amount of students. Those who were accepted arrived around seven in the morning and remained on grounds until two-thirty in the afternoon. Jill Bakersfield was the program director. fifty-five, divorced and without children, she inherited the property upon her parents succumbing to their illnesses ten years prior.
In the spirit of who they were in the community, she wanted to provide a place where she could help those who may need the extra attention. Help them overcome their problems, while providing a healthy environment for their personal growth. Group therapy was a daily thing from eleven to twelve, then lunch. In the morning was subjects like English (7:15-8), Math (8-9), and History (9-10). Then an hour for the kids to work on their daily goals for the day. After a half hour for lunch, it was back to a school subject (Science, 12:30-1:30). The remaining hour was free time.
But it was that song that enabled them to open up. They had hinted before, but not reach full disclosure. It was then she talked about how her father molested her at a young age and how her mother wouldn’t believe it until he was caught in the act. He talked about his alcoholic father and how he used to beat on him after abusing his mom wasn’t enough. When he died in a car accident in 1992, he thought everything would be ok.
Only his mom picked up the slack and abused him verbally for everything that had happened. It caused him to contemplate suicide, compounded by crippling depression, something Destiny could relate to herself. While never suicidal, she internalized what had been done. It took several years of counseling in order to really come to terms with the weight. As he got older, he too got a better idea and handle of his past.
But they gave unconditional love and devotion to the other. They grew stronger and helped one another when the storm raged back. Both had graduated by mid-1997, got engaged in early-1998, married in late-2000, and started their family the following year. It was between 1998 and 1999 that he had trained for professional wrestling, although he had some scattered experience prior.
The song was over, but they remained perfectly content as were.
“I love you so much.”
They shared a laugh having said it simultaneously. “Jinx!”
“Pfft. You wish. I’m older, therefore I said it first.”
“Yeah? Well I’m a woman and I’m always right!”
This was punctuated by her sticking her tongue out. They lived for these playful interactions. It was just who they were.
“Shall we?”
“We don’t have to stay here, babe. I mean, there’s NOTH---”
She squints at a lone object in the distance. It was right around where the barn used to stand. What she saw was a makeshift cross. I guess everything wasn’t gone after all…
“What is it?”
“Over there.”
He looks at where she’s pointing. They get out of the car and walk over to where the cross is sticking out. The word NEVERMORE has been sprayed. That told the entire story. The City of Camarillo hadn’t done this. No. This was the work of XIII. Seromine noticed the earth had been disturbed under his feet. He crouches down and frantically begins throwing mounds of dirt aside. What he eventually finds in a shallow grave is the discarded masks and clothes of the former followers. He remains silent over the visual evidence for several minutes.
The cross is removed and thrown over the items. Seromine was trying to convince himself that XIII hadn’t gotten inside his head again. The burial of the taunting cross was his way of not giving him an iota of power. He kicks the dirt back into the grave before they return to the car. They take one last look in the rear view mirror before making a left hand turn to leaving the place far behind. The sole focus would now be on Deadly Intentions and repeating history.
I gave it everything I had. I fought against the persecution from Loki and his unacceptable ban of my wife from ringside. I fought against the faithful who decided to turn their backs on me during the course of the action. I fought against the slow count of the referee. I fought against the onslaught of Kyle Shane’s abilities.
In the end none of it mattered.
Kyle Shane was the better man for the second time, and instead of losing my World Title, I lost my hair. I was forced to embarrass myself by saying he was right! It made me sick to my stomach. GOD was supposed to put me in a place for victory...but I lost myself in the heat of battle. Self inflicted sin set the domino effect and before I knew it, VATS turned the lights out.
Congratulations, Kyle.
Sure, I could’ve used Gabriel’s help well before my shoulders were pinned. Perhaps that’s why he showed up to lay the attack he did. Yes, I’m sure that’s why! Gabriel knew he did wrong and was making up for it. It didn’t excuse his lack of commitment to the cause, but it was a start. Watching the chair go CRACK CRACK CRACK on Kyle’s battle worn body washed away the impurity of loss.
The sight of his agony.
The sound of his pain.
A consolation, sure, but it was mine! I had won against Kyle after all. Little did he know that I cashed in my rematch clause for the World Title after the cameras were off. Little could he expect that I also brought Gabriel into the matter. I was going to reclaim what was mine. Gabriel was going to help me achieve that. I stepped aside in the Icemann Invitational to advance him to glory.
He lost that night. He owes me this. He owes me everything I afforded him upon rebirth.
Deadly Intentions. It was at that event last year that I, to coin a phrase Kyle likes saying, “called my shot” and backed it up. Twice. I pinned Whitey Ford for the World Title, but in the process, denied Grimm another reign. I then turned around and won the Deadly Rumble, denying EVERYONE a chance to directly challenge at Collision Course. I sent PCW into chaos.
But that was last year. This year I would have to repeat my championship success. Another triple threat, but with an ally, not an opponent, to help get to that.
There would be no ban.
There would be no sin.
There would be no slow counting.
There would only be me standing triumphant as a two time World Champion. There would only be the faithful admitting they were wrong. There would only be GOD shining his light down. There would only be Gabriel sharing in the glory.
There would only be the praising of Seromine. The praising of the LORD.
--------
“It’ll grow back, babe.”
“So will the hair on your legs.”
“Heh, which is why I sha---”
Destiny gets a frown. She has her mouth covered to stifle her error, but you can tell from her muscle movement that she’s also smiling. Her eyes are pleading with sympathy as she comforts Seromine in the reflection of their bedroom mirror.
“Sorry!” she proclaims before kissing him on the cheek. “You know I love you no matter what.”
He nods in agreement. “I just hope my hair grows back fast. I know I’m getting older, but having my head shaved was never on the bucket list.”
Destiny squeezes his body as tight as her arms will allow her to. “Don’t worry about it. If it bugs you that much, we can always buy you a wig!”
He laughs as she partially sticks her tongue out.
The children found amusement for the sake of amusement, but adjusted to the sight quicker than he had thought they would. That’s all this was. A temporary setback. A minor adjustment. A professional wrestling heel being humbled by the disgusting face…
Seromine and Destiny remained in front of the mirror.
“Were you able to make those calls?”
“Of course. It’s all been taken care of. By this time next week, Labyrinth Grove will only exist in the past.”
Seromine kisses Destiny’s hand as she smiles over the thought of being free of that place. She unwraps her arms and goes over to sit on the bed.
“The city can level everything as far as I’m concerned.” she openly admits. “For the life of me I can’t figure out why we bought the place.”
Seromine turns to face her and with absolutely no shame, launches into song.
“Mem’ries light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were.”
He makes her break into hysterics. Seromine gets onto a knee, then helps her close her right hand into a fist so it can be used as a microphone.
“Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were.”
He’s unable to get through the last few words before her infectious laughter draws him in. She grabs the sides of his face, pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so silly.”
“Yeah, I’m something. Streisand better watch out! Heck, They might as well get my Grammy award ready!”
“Listen...” Destiny shifts her eyes to the floor for a minor second. “Why don’t we go take one last look? The children won’t be back until later. There’s still plenty of daylight. We won’t stay long, just long enough.”
Seromine looks surprised. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the place?”
“I don’t. I just thought it’d be nice to take one last look. If you don’t want to that’s fine. I won’t be upset either way.”
“No, No. I don’t have any objections.”
She looks at him. “Well then, let’s go.”
–----
Labyrinth Grove was accessible right off the 101 (Ventura Fwy) in under an hour and a half. Give or take for traffic of course. Seromine was behind the wheel this time. Scant clouds were in the sky. The temperature was a comfortable 72 degrees, so this was a good time to go there.
Unless…
“What the HELL?!”
The property was gone. All that remained was unpaved roads, uprooted trees, and the foundation of where the farmhouse once was. Seromine parked the vehicle where they always had. They sat in stunned silence over the sight of the barren land. HOW was this even possible??
“Well, hun, you called it. The city leveled the place. Say, what will the lotto numbers be tonight? I figure we could stop off somewhere on the drive home and get in on the action.”
“Ha ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”
“I like to think I have my moments, yes.”
Destiny smirks. “If I had known this place was going to be gone, I would have wrote a eulogy for it.”
Seromine has a laugh. Destiny reaches over and turns on the radio.
They look at one another. “Woah. I haven’t heard this song in years.”
“Remember when I introduced you to it?”
He nods. “How could I forget? We barred our souls while it played.”
“And had our first kiss and was the first time we said I love you.”
She holds his right hand tight and interlocks her fingers between his. As she lays her head down on his shoulder, he gently kisses it and rests his own against hers. The song was their only hit and had been an intended side project for Siobhan Fahey after she departed Bananarama in the late eighties. Along with Siobhan on vocals, was Marcella Detroit, a highly accomplished singer in her own right, who spent time in the seventies backing up Eric Clapton.
The song itself dealt with a woman fighting with the angel of death over her lover, who was about to die. In the end, death loses. Both Seromine and Destiny dealt with abusive parents, just on different ends of the spectrum. It was six months into their relationship at the time in 1996. He was still seventeen, with July arriving the following month. She had turned sixteen that March. They met late the previous year. It was an instant attraction from the start and if you were to ask them, an instant bond.
Once their initial shyness was removed of course.
“Hello!” a voice called from the distance with a wave.
He looked around to find the source of the kind greeting. Once he did, he awkwardly waved back to her. She smiled as she approached.
“Hello.” she repeated.
“Hi. How are you?”
“My name is Destiny. I---”
He chuckles. Destiny stops herself from continuing. “What?”
“I asked how you were. But---”
“Oh!” she says while blushing. “I got caught up in---and well---”
“It’s nice to meet you, Destiny. My name is Jason.”
She smiles. “I knew that, silly. I just finally worked up the courage to come talk to you.”
“Ohh, I see.”
“Yeah...” she looks away. “I’ve been wanting to for some time. I’m not always this shy, you know. I mean, I’m not shy.”
He nods while listening. “It’s ok. I’m a bit shy myself, so I understand.”
The memory may not be exactly -as- it happened, but it was close enough.
The property was always dotted with orange groves. The unpaved road stretched for one hundred feet off the main road which went into a bend near the large weathered barn. Another fifty feet ahead, snuggled in front of an apple orchard was a two story farm house built in 1911. The interior kept some of the rustic charms, but most fixtures were up to modern times.
This was a place for those with behavioral problems. The program was equal parts therapy and school. Ages ranged from fourteen to eighteen and numbered ten in amount of students. Those who were accepted arrived around seven in the morning and remained on grounds until two-thirty in the afternoon. Jill Bakersfield was the program director. fifty-five, divorced and without children, she inherited the property upon her parents succumbing to their illnesses ten years prior.
In the spirit of who they were in the community, she wanted to provide a place where she could help those who may need the extra attention. Help them overcome their problems, while providing a healthy environment for their personal growth. Group therapy was a daily thing from eleven to twelve, then lunch. In the morning was subjects like English (7:15-8), Math (8-9), and History (9-10). Then an hour for the kids to work on their daily goals for the day. After a half hour for lunch, it was back to a school subject (Science, 12:30-1:30). The remaining hour was free time.
But it was that song that enabled them to open up. They had hinted before, but not reach full disclosure. It was then she talked about how her father molested her at a young age and how her mother wouldn’t believe it until he was caught in the act. He talked about his alcoholic father and how he used to beat on him after abusing his mom wasn’t enough. When he died in a car accident in 1992, he thought everything would be ok.
Only his mom picked up the slack and abused him verbally for everything that had happened. It caused him to contemplate suicide, compounded by crippling depression, something Destiny could relate to herself. While never suicidal, she internalized what had been done. It took several years of counseling in order to really come to terms with the weight. As he got older, he too got a better idea and handle of his past.
But they gave unconditional love and devotion to the other. They grew stronger and helped one another when the storm raged back. Both had graduated by mid-1997, got engaged in early-1998, married in late-2000, and started their family the following year. It was between 1998 and 1999 that he had trained for professional wrestling, although he had some scattered experience prior.
The song was over, but they remained perfectly content as were.
“I love you so much.”
They shared a laugh having said it simultaneously. “Jinx!”
“Pfft. You wish. I’m older, therefore I said it first.”
“Yeah? Well I’m a woman and I’m always right!”
This was punctuated by her sticking her tongue out. They lived for these playful interactions. It was just who they were.
“Shall we?”
“We don’t have to stay here, babe. I mean, there’s NOTH---”
She squints at a lone object in the distance. It was right around where the barn used to stand. What she saw was a makeshift cross. I guess everything wasn’t gone after all…
“What is it?”
“Over there.”
He looks at where she’s pointing. They get out of the car and walk over to where the cross is sticking out. The word NEVERMORE has been sprayed. That told the entire story. The City of Camarillo hadn’t done this. No. This was the work of XIII. Seromine noticed the earth had been disturbed under his feet. He crouches down and frantically begins throwing mounds of dirt aside. What he eventually finds in a shallow grave is the discarded masks and clothes of the former followers. He remains silent over the visual evidence for several minutes.
The cross is removed and thrown over the items. Seromine was trying to convince himself that XIII hadn’t gotten inside his head again. The burial of the taunting cross was his way of not giving him an iota of power. He kicks the dirt back into the grave before they return to the car. They take one last look in the rear view mirror before making a left hand turn to leaving the place far behind. The sole focus would now be on Deadly Intentions and repeating history.