Walls
.::XHF Competitor::.
Posts: 79
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Post by Walls on Apr 10, 2021 20:47:30 GMT -5
It's dark. Pitch black.
There's a single ivory light switch. A hand reaches out, clicking it up and providing a scattered illumination to the room, the kind you get from half of them being burned out, others in their last days, most having not been used in years. A small, square warehouse is revealed. Cobwebbed boxes are stacked in no discernable manner. A pair of moldering carpets standing in a corner. Ages of gray dust cover everything. Cracked windows high up. Rusting fixtures hanging. A precarious looking mezanine occupies one side, a large dock door the other.
Lights flicker.
"This will do."
Fin.
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Walls
.::XHF Competitor::.
Posts: 79
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Post by Walls on Apr 15, 2021 22:35:56 GMT -5
[We open to a plain white notepad, blue lined and glue bound at the top. A short series of words are written on it, single column down the page. The same voice as last time rings out, checking off the first with a red pen.]
Chairs. Check.
Electrical. Check.
Lighting. Check.
[The hand leaves the screen. You hear a sigh. It comes back down, ignoring the next few words: fire inspection, food and bar license, new tires on van.]
Business license. Check.
Pipe and draping. Check.
[Another set of words skipped, yet another sigh: Smoke Machine, change room seating and tables. The hand reaches out, sliding it away in a seeming huff.]
Ugh. Is it actually going to be this tough. It was so much easier getting booked and wrestling shows. Yeah, arguing for trans was one thing but man...
...I get why so many promoters are awful human beings now.
[The pen taps the table. Over and over and over.
Another sigh. A deep, deep one.]
Fin.
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Walls
.::XHF Competitor::.
Posts: 79
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Post by Walls on Apr 18, 2021 17:15:37 GMT -5
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