Post by Grimm on Oct 19, 2006 15:34:59 GMT -5
He swung.
Somewhere, a man fell.
He brought it down again.
A child wailed.
Again. Again. Again. Through the roots and into the earth.
A woman screamed, then grew silent.
He heard them all, carried up the hollow and over the hills on wings of black that beat like drums.
The moonlight glinted off the blade. It was ancient but remained as sharp as the day it had been forged. He grunted. The whistle of the scythe as it cut through the air and found its mark. The earth shuddered at the fall of the grass and the toppling corn shocks. The handle was as old as the blade but was as solid a piece of hickory as ever existed. Words carved into the hilt, just above his left hand, were still legible. He didn’t know if it was the work of the original craftsman or the creation of one of the owners down through the years. He only knew he could still read them. Even now, with each swing the letters cried out.
Who wields me - wields the world
It was a neglected field down the hill and across the gravel road. The low lying areas were usually blanketed with mist this time of year, especially this hour of night, and sometimes the fog smelled like salt spray from an ocean that wasn’t there. Tonight he could see well enough. The work was unnecessary, really. The field had been let go to seed long before he’d returned, and at this point in life he had no intention of resurrecting the crops that had once flourished here. But it’s what he did.
I harvest thus, and so…
The sickle blade cleaved through the remnant of a fence post. He didn’t stop. He mowed down decaying wood as easy as grass as easy as corn stalks as easy as brambles. He didn’t pause to pick his way carefully through the briar patches. They too fell to the ground, trampled underfoot, left to rot in his wake. With the gibbous moon high overhead showing the way.
I harvest thus, and so…
He would Harvest them all before he was done. Jade included. She may be of the female persuasion, and he had never raised his hand against a woman before, but that would be of no consequence come Trauma. For those few minutes he would be blind with his suppressed hillbilly rage, during which time he did not see man or woman, friend or foe. He simply saw an opponent, and they would be treated as such. He knew that Jade realistically had no chance against the Abomination of Desolation. He also knew that she was well aware of that, regardless of whatever façade she may choose to erect this week. Even so, Jade had put on a clinic against Bob Diehard Tuesday night, proving that she was not to be taken lightly. She would not be.
And as anyone would tell you, Phinehas Grimm was no Bob Diehard.
Her only chance of even a respectable performance would be for Lantlas or Ace Anderson to involve themselves in the match. They were all very close, some closer than others, but Grimm honestly didn’t know what to expect out of the three of them. Under any other circumstances he knew they would wash their hands of the whole affair. Phinehas had been there long enough to recognize that was not how they operated, upcoming title match or not. Say what you will about Lantlas and Ace and Jade, but it all boiled down to the fact that they were honorable people, at least as far as professional wrestling was concerned. Interference and underhandedness were not their forte.
That being said, he would be prepared for whatever the PCW threw at him. Love and devotion was a funny thing. It may very well make a person who otherwise would bide their time backstage during a match, instead rush into battle at the first sign of their loved one being put into harm’s way. And Jade would be harmed, make no mistake about it. Either way, Grimm would be ready. If Lantlas truly wanted to retain that title at Deadly Intentions, it would be in his best interest to not do anything incredibly foolish before then. Like, say, interrupt anything Phinehas Grimm was involved in.
He swung the scythe in a wide arc. It felled everything in its path. The air was filled with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. He swung again.
I harvest thus, and so…
Somewhere, a man fell.
He brought it down again.
A child wailed.
Again. Again. Again. Through the roots and into the earth.
A woman screamed, then grew silent.
He heard them all, carried up the hollow and over the hills on wings of black that beat like drums.
The moonlight glinted off the blade. It was ancient but remained as sharp as the day it had been forged. He grunted. The whistle of the scythe as it cut through the air and found its mark. The earth shuddered at the fall of the grass and the toppling corn shocks. The handle was as old as the blade but was as solid a piece of hickory as ever existed. Words carved into the hilt, just above his left hand, were still legible. He didn’t know if it was the work of the original craftsman or the creation of one of the owners down through the years. He only knew he could still read them. Even now, with each swing the letters cried out.
Who wields me - wields the world
It was a neglected field down the hill and across the gravel road. The low lying areas were usually blanketed with mist this time of year, especially this hour of night, and sometimes the fog smelled like salt spray from an ocean that wasn’t there. Tonight he could see well enough. The work was unnecessary, really. The field had been let go to seed long before he’d returned, and at this point in life he had no intention of resurrecting the crops that had once flourished here. But it’s what he did.
I harvest thus, and so…
The sickle blade cleaved through the remnant of a fence post. He didn’t stop. He mowed down decaying wood as easy as grass as easy as corn stalks as easy as brambles. He didn’t pause to pick his way carefully through the briar patches. They too fell to the ground, trampled underfoot, left to rot in his wake. With the gibbous moon high overhead showing the way.
I harvest thus, and so…
He would Harvest them all before he was done. Jade included. She may be of the female persuasion, and he had never raised his hand against a woman before, but that would be of no consequence come Trauma. For those few minutes he would be blind with his suppressed hillbilly rage, during which time he did not see man or woman, friend or foe. He simply saw an opponent, and they would be treated as such. He knew that Jade realistically had no chance against the Abomination of Desolation. He also knew that she was well aware of that, regardless of whatever façade she may choose to erect this week. Even so, Jade had put on a clinic against Bob Diehard Tuesday night, proving that she was not to be taken lightly. She would not be.
And as anyone would tell you, Phinehas Grimm was no Bob Diehard.
Her only chance of even a respectable performance would be for Lantlas or Ace Anderson to involve themselves in the match. They were all very close, some closer than others, but Grimm honestly didn’t know what to expect out of the three of them. Under any other circumstances he knew they would wash their hands of the whole affair. Phinehas had been there long enough to recognize that was not how they operated, upcoming title match or not. Say what you will about Lantlas and Ace and Jade, but it all boiled down to the fact that they were honorable people, at least as far as professional wrestling was concerned. Interference and underhandedness were not their forte.
That being said, he would be prepared for whatever the PCW threw at him. Love and devotion was a funny thing. It may very well make a person who otherwise would bide their time backstage during a match, instead rush into battle at the first sign of their loved one being put into harm’s way. And Jade would be harmed, make no mistake about it. Either way, Grimm would be ready. If Lantlas truly wanted to retain that title at Deadly Intentions, it would be in his best interest to not do anything incredibly foolish before then. Like, say, interrupt anything Phinehas Grimm was involved in.
He swung the scythe in a wide arc. It felled everything in its path. The air was filled with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. He swung again.
I harvest thus, and so…
