Gone....but not forgotten
Jan 27, 2019 22:26:59 GMT -5
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Post by Holden Ross on Jan 27, 2019 22:26:59 GMT -5
Tuesday morning, five-thirtyish….
*He was just heading for bed after a late night/early morning workout when his cell buzzed. It kept buzzing, signaling a call, and he had every intention of pressing “End” to send it to voicemail when he saw the I.D. of the caller. “Mom.” He knew she wouldn’t be calling at this hour unless something was truly wrong. He pressed the green “Answer” button and could her an exasperated gasp escape his mothers lips.*
Mom: S-Son? Hel-Hello?
Do you know what time it is ma? Why aren’t y-..
Mom: Has a-anybody called you?
*She sniffs loudly and stifles a sob.*
Ma, what’s goin on? What happened?!
*She lets out the sob, unstifled this time, and continues.*
Mom: That Kayla g-girl you used to date, do you remember h-her?
*He remembered. The minute he heard the name he remembered. Her smile. The sparkle of that smile in her eyes. The softness of her lips. The close cropped, platinum dyed hair with the small strip of candy apple red lacing through it.*
Mom: I actual-ally liked her! Oh, God, Holden….it’s so…
*Tessa sits up in bed, he eyes slits full of sleepiness and turns on the bedside lamp. Holden remains standing just inside the doorway, just over the threshold when she says it.*
Mom: Someone sh-sh-shot her! B-barely an hour ag-o! Some piece of shit rob-…
*The phone slips from his hand and lands on the carpet at his feet. He looks at Tessa in disbelief and she sees the confusion, anger, and sadness jostling for control. As she slides out of the bed and grabs the phone, Holden turns and wanders out of the room, almost like he is in a trance. Tessa retrieves the phone and places it to her ear, intending to rifle off a number of questions, but is stopped by the sobbing from the other end. From the hallway a loud “thump” followed by another, and another. She enters the hall to find Holden staring at his bleeding and already swelling fist. In the wall in front of him are three holes in the sheetrock.*
Several hours later...
*Holden is staring at a picture of his slain friend on his phone. It’s a selfie; an old, brown horse nuzzles her ear while she smiles at the camera. She was due to take over the very horse rescue this photo was taken at had she not been gunned down during a late night robbery.*
Tessa: Did you love her?
*He lifts a glass and swallows the amber colored liquid, sucks air through his teeth, and places the glass on the table top.*
She was my first love, my first kiss, my first….everything. We stayed together for a couple years…a stupid kids love….but my first love. We even tried a few more times over the years…not just hook-ups. Those happened now and then but…I don’t know…we were better friends and occasional lovers than partners….
*She passes him the blunt she lit momenta before and he takes a deep, long pull from it and passes it back.*
I’m sorry, Tess. I can’t believe she’s gone is all….especially like this…
*Tessa rises from her seat and moves behind Holden to rub his shoulders.*
Tessa: Nobody deserves that, baby.
I’m payin for her funeral….
Tessa: Of course!
Friday night….the show must go on….
*Holden's “Skull and axe handle” logo flashes briefly on the screen before being replaced with an image of last weeks show. In particular, of Holden walking several paces behind a smiling Seromine, flanked by Lucy. Holden isn’t smiling. He is looking down at the floor as he walks up the ramp, his hands clenched in fists at his side. That picture fades out after being on screen for a handful of seconds, long enough to see and begin to digest the scene.
Before the scene opens on a live shot, we hear a sound, that of chains rattling against themselves and of being drug across cement. When the scene fades into view we are greeted by the dreadlocked, emaciated twins from Holden’s last promo for his tag match. They stand, side-by-side in front of the camera and, in unison, gesture for us to follow. When they turn and walk away we see where the sound of the chains is emanating from; both have a chain attached to the back of their “muzzles,” as well as connected to several rings implanted in the skin of their backs. The chains hang down and drag on the floor, snaking off toward the walls on either side of the camera, implying they are tethered to the walls.
They stop and part, allowing the camera to continue onward and into the room proper. Sitting in the center of the room, on his throne, is the Ambassador of Ultraviolence himself. His red rimmed eyes are at half mast, a weeks worth of stubble has grown on his normally clean shaven face, and his hair hangs in his eyes rather than in a ponytail, looking greasy and unshowered. He draws from the stub of a joint before pitching it off camera. Tessa, his muse, is nowhere to be found.*
This week I have been chosen to welcome our own “Prodigal Son,” Cory Steel back into the fold. I don’t know much about you, to be honest, and even if I did, would it matter? You aren’t the same man you used to be. I'm willing to bet you’re a little more broken down. A little less stamina. A lower threshold for pain. It’s a fact of life; you get older and shit starts breaking down. Time is a bitch. And after this week nobody would blame you if you crawled back under whatever rock it was you’ve been hiding under for however long now. Or, seeing as how you are sporting that eye patch, maybe you could form a tag team with High Tide, jobbing to the rest of the roster?
You were once someone to fear around here. From what I understand, you were somebody people dreaded seeing penciled in against em for the next show. Times have changed, my friend, and now the names if “Seromine” and “Holden Ross” are names people dread being slated against. You wilk find out first hand why Razor now has a slight speech impediment. My axe handle will split your wig as easily as it did his. Cory, I hope you understand, once I hit “Sins,” it’s over. Nobody kicks out from it. Not even “The Bear.”
*One of the twins enters the shot, carrying a canvas bag and places it at Holden's feet before shuffling off quickly. Holden kneels down and opens the bag and retrieves what is inside; a bears head, fresh from the taxidermist. Holden holds it up for the camera to see before dropping it with a thud.*
Your head will be mounted on my wall, like all the others, no matter how dominant you once were. I'm the new monster. I'm the new predator. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out from and save yourself a lot of pain…. Corinthians fifteen thirty-one, “I face death everyday.” Facing you, pal, is gonna be a cakewalk….
*The Avatar of Wrath strikes a “Jesus Christ pose” as the camera fades out. The sounds of the twins chains is the last thing to be heard….*
Sunday mmorning
They caught the piece of shit….nineteen….high on meth.
*Tessa kisses him on the top of the head where he is seated on her couch.*
Tessa: Your mom said her funeral is in a few days… Do you want to go?
I do….but I'm not gonna. I'm ok. It's gonna be ok, baby…
*She watches, with worry, as he chugs the last quarter of his forty ounce bottle of St. Ides, his third in the past forty-five minutes.*
*He was just heading for bed after a late night/early morning workout when his cell buzzed. It kept buzzing, signaling a call, and he had every intention of pressing “End” to send it to voicemail when he saw the I.D. of the caller. “Mom.” He knew she wouldn’t be calling at this hour unless something was truly wrong. He pressed the green “Answer” button and could her an exasperated gasp escape his mothers lips.*
Mom: S-Son? Hel-Hello?
Do you know what time it is ma? Why aren’t y-..
Mom: Has a-anybody called you?
*She sniffs loudly and stifles a sob.*
Ma, what’s goin on? What happened?!
*She lets out the sob, unstifled this time, and continues.*
Mom: That Kayla g-girl you used to date, do you remember h-her?
*He remembered. The minute he heard the name he remembered. Her smile. The sparkle of that smile in her eyes. The softness of her lips. The close cropped, platinum dyed hair with the small strip of candy apple red lacing through it.*
Mom: I actual-ally liked her! Oh, God, Holden….it’s so…
*Tessa sits up in bed, he eyes slits full of sleepiness and turns on the bedside lamp. Holden remains standing just inside the doorway, just over the threshold when she says it.*
Mom: Someone sh-sh-shot her! B-barely an hour ag-o! Some piece of shit rob-…
*The phone slips from his hand and lands on the carpet at his feet. He looks at Tessa in disbelief and she sees the confusion, anger, and sadness jostling for control. As she slides out of the bed and grabs the phone, Holden turns and wanders out of the room, almost like he is in a trance. Tessa retrieves the phone and places it to her ear, intending to rifle off a number of questions, but is stopped by the sobbing from the other end. From the hallway a loud “thump” followed by another, and another. She enters the hall to find Holden staring at his bleeding and already swelling fist. In the wall in front of him are three holes in the sheetrock.*
Several hours later...
*Holden is staring at a picture of his slain friend on his phone. It’s a selfie; an old, brown horse nuzzles her ear while she smiles at the camera. She was due to take over the very horse rescue this photo was taken at had she not been gunned down during a late night robbery.*
Tessa: Did you love her?
*He lifts a glass and swallows the amber colored liquid, sucks air through his teeth, and places the glass on the table top.*
She was my first love, my first kiss, my first….everything. We stayed together for a couple years…a stupid kids love….but my first love. We even tried a few more times over the years…not just hook-ups. Those happened now and then but…I don’t know…we were better friends and occasional lovers than partners….
*She passes him the blunt she lit momenta before and he takes a deep, long pull from it and passes it back.*
I’m sorry, Tess. I can’t believe she’s gone is all….especially like this…
*Tessa rises from her seat and moves behind Holden to rub his shoulders.*
Tessa: Nobody deserves that, baby.
I’m payin for her funeral….
Tessa: Of course!
Friday night….the show must go on….
*Holden's “Skull and axe handle” logo flashes briefly on the screen before being replaced with an image of last weeks show. In particular, of Holden walking several paces behind a smiling Seromine, flanked by Lucy. Holden isn’t smiling. He is looking down at the floor as he walks up the ramp, his hands clenched in fists at his side. That picture fades out after being on screen for a handful of seconds, long enough to see and begin to digest the scene.
Before the scene opens on a live shot, we hear a sound, that of chains rattling against themselves and of being drug across cement. When the scene fades into view we are greeted by the dreadlocked, emaciated twins from Holden’s last promo for his tag match. They stand, side-by-side in front of the camera and, in unison, gesture for us to follow. When they turn and walk away we see where the sound of the chains is emanating from; both have a chain attached to the back of their “muzzles,” as well as connected to several rings implanted in the skin of their backs. The chains hang down and drag on the floor, snaking off toward the walls on either side of the camera, implying they are tethered to the walls.
They stop and part, allowing the camera to continue onward and into the room proper. Sitting in the center of the room, on his throne, is the Ambassador of Ultraviolence himself. His red rimmed eyes are at half mast, a weeks worth of stubble has grown on his normally clean shaven face, and his hair hangs in his eyes rather than in a ponytail, looking greasy and unshowered. He draws from the stub of a joint before pitching it off camera. Tessa, his muse, is nowhere to be found.*
This week I have been chosen to welcome our own “Prodigal Son,” Cory Steel back into the fold. I don’t know much about you, to be honest, and even if I did, would it matter? You aren’t the same man you used to be. I'm willing to bet you’re a little more broken down. A little less stamina. A lower threshold for pain. It’s a fact of life; you get older and shit starts breaking down. Time is a bitch. And after this week nobody would blame you if you crawled back under whatever rock it was you’ve been hiding under for however long now. Or, seeing as how you are sporting that eye patch, maybe you could form a tag team with High Tide, jobbing to the rest of the roster?
You were once someone to fear around here. From what I understand, you were somebody people dreaded seeing penciled in against em for the next show. Times have changed, my friend, and now the names if “Seromine” and “Holden Ross” are names people dread being slated against. You wilk find out first hand why Razor now has a slight speech impediment. My axe handle will split your wig as easily as it did his. Cory, I hope you understand, once I hit “Sins,” it’s over. Nobody kicks out from it. Not even “The Bear.”
*One of the twins enters the shot, carrying a canvas bag and places it at Holden's feet before shuffling off quickly. Holden kneels down and opens the bag and retrieves what is inside; a bears head, fresh from the taxidermist. Holden holds it up for the camera to see before dropping it with a thud.*
Your head will be mounted on my wall, like all the others, no matter how dominant you once were. I'm the new monster. I'm the new predator. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out from and save yourself a lot of pain…. Corinthians fifteen thirty-one, “I face death everyday.” Facing you, pal, is gonna be a cakewalk….
*The Avatar of Wrath strikes a “Jesus Christ pose” as the camera fades out. The sounds of the twins chains is the last thing to be heard….*
Sunday mmorning
They caught the piece of shit….nineteen….high on meth.
*Tessa kisses him on the top of the head where he is seated on her couch.*
Tessa: Your mom said her funeral is in a few days… Do you want to go?
I do….but I'm not gonna. I'm ok. It's gonna be ok, baby…
*She watches, with worry, as he chugs the last quarter of his forty ounce bottle of St. Ides, his third in the past forty-five minutes.*