Post by Dackle on Feb 13, 2018 21:49:31 GMT -5
The camera focuses in on Dackle, sitting in his leather winged back chair next to the fire place. He is staring off into the fire, his expression lifeless. The cackling of the flames is the only sound for several uncomfortable minutes. He turns to the camera and begins to speak.
Have you ever listened, truly listen to music? Have you ever felt the lyrics explain what is going on in your life, hit you right in places you never knew existed or acknowledged openly you had? Have you ever had the drum beat the cadence of the blood flowing through your body? Have you ever had the guitar strum chords that resonate into your very soul?
Dackle, never breaking his lifeless stare with the flames, pauses. A few more seconds pass before he turns and looks directly into the lens of the camera.
I am going to break the fourth wall here. Yes, I am a pro wrestler. When I came into this line of work, out of necessity to keep myself sane and out of prison, I was tasked with selecting my entrance theme. I had to pick a selection of music that would forever by synonymous with me.
I chose a song many of you have never heard unless you have seen me come through a curtain. The third track on Creed’s Weathered album. I chose it because the song fits me, at least the beginning does.
Dackle picks up his tumbler and downs the rest of the brown liquid located inside. He studies the glass and marvels at the three cubes of ice that remain. He sets it back down on the table beside him.
Listen to the lyrics. Listen to the second verse. ‘So many thoughts to share, all this energy to give. Unlike those who hide the truth I tell it like it is.’ Nothing is more fitting than that. Over the course of the last few months, I have pulled back layers of myself. I have bared my soul to those of you who have followed me.
I have given you glimpses of what it’s like to be in my head. I have given you the thoughts that bounce off my skull, the same way I would bounce off the walls of the padded rooms I have once called home. And the whole reason I am a wrestler is to give the energy here, instead of murdering those who have crossed me.
I, with the help of my brother in darkness, Mr. Black, have told everyone exactly how it is. No matter how bright and amazing things look, eventually, we all turn to darkness. Eventually, darkness rules all of us.
Dackle smiles a bit and eases back into his chair. He crosses his legs and folds his hands into his lap.
‘If the truth will set you free, I feel sorry for your soul. Can’t you hear the ringing cuz for you the bell tolls.’
That is so true. I feel for anyone who comes to the realization I have. I feel for those who recognize the truth I have been spreading. Once you embrace the Darkness, there is no going back. Once you embrace the Darkness, you can never escape. You can never leave the Darkness, you can never leave the shadows.
And that last line, well that is a special message. That message is for anyone who comes into my path. In this situation, it is you Lethe. Can you hear it? Can you hear the bells? I know it sounds like it is in the distance. I know it sounds like they are just an echo from a church long off in the distance. But let me promise you something little lady, they are ringing. They are coming. I am coming. I am tolling that bell.
A grandfather clock in the vast room chimes 10 times. The timing brings a grin to Dackle’s face. The fire flares up just enough to illuminate Dackle’s face. A scar, a new scar that has not been visible before, is just above his right eye.
In wrestling, when a performer has perished, when a performer has succumbed to the eternal darkness, they toll the bell ten times. It is one of the most meaningful, and sorrowful things that can take place on a show. Lethe, I am giving you a goal. We will face one another on the next show. We will compete. I want your goal to be that the beginning of the show after I systematically destroy you, I want your goal to be that that show does not begin with a bell tolling.
Dackle gets up out of his chair with such a force, the heavy chair falls behind him. The cameraman stumbles in a retreat. He falls, and the camera is pointed upward, towards the cathedral ceilings of the room. Dackle stands over the camera and gets right up against the lens.
Lethe, I am a freedom fighter. I have no remorse. While I may not be waging on in a holy war, soon there’ll come a day, when your face to face with me. And that day, that day is coming. You can take that to the bank.
With a bright flash, the room goes dark. A mysterious laugh is heard as the clock chimes again. The camera cuts to static.
Have you ever listened, truly listen to music? Have you ever felt the lyrics explain what is going on in your life, hit you right in places you never knew existed or acknowledged openly you had? Have you ever had the drum beat the cadence of the blood flowing through your body? Have you ever had the guitar strum chords that resonate into your very soul?
Dackle, never breaking his lifeless stare with the flames, pauses. A few more seconds pass before he turns and looks directly into the lens of the camera.
I am going to break the fourth wall here. Yes, I am a pro wrestler. When I came into this line of work, out of necessity to keep myself sane and out of prison, I was tasked with selecting my entrance theme. I had to pick a selection of music that would forever by synonymous with me.
I chose a song many of you have never heard unless you have seen me come through a curtain. The third track on Creed’s Weathered album. I chose it because the song fits me, at least the beginning does.
Dackle picks up his tumbler and downs the rest of the brown liquid located inside. He studies the glass and marvels at the three cubes of ice that remain. He sets it back down on the table beside him.
Listen to the lyrics. Listen to the second verse. ‘So many thoughts to share, all this energy to give. Unlike those who hide the truth I tell it like it is.’ Nothing is more fitting than that. Over the course of the last few months, I have pulled back layers of myself. I have bared my soul to those of you who have followed me.
I have given you glimpses of what it’s like to be in my head. I have given you the thoughts that bounce off my skull, the same way I would bounce off the walls of the padded rooms I have once called home. And the whole reason I am a wrestler is to give the energy here, instead of murdering those who have crossed me.
I, with the help of my brother in darkness, Mr. Black, have told everyone exactly how it is. No matter how bright and amazing things look, eventually, we all turn to darkness. Eventually, darkness rules all of us.
Dackle smiles a bit and eases back into his chair. He crosses his legs and folds his hands into his lap.
‘If the truth will set you free, I feel sorry for your soul. Can’t you hear the ringing cuz for you the bell tolls.’
That is so true. I feel for anyone who comes to the realization I have. I feel for those who recognize the truth I have been spreading. Once you embrace the Darkness, there is no going back. Once you embrace the Darkness, you can never escape. You can never leave the Darkness, you can never leave the shadows.
And that last line, well that is a special message. That message is for anyone who comes into my path. In this situation, it is you Lethe. Can you hear it? Can you hear the bells? I know it sounds like it is in the distance. I know it sounds like they are just an echo from a church long off in the distance. But let me promise you something little lady, they are ringing. They are coming. I am coming. I am tolling that bell.
A grandfather clock in the vast room chimes 10 times. The timing brings a grin to Dackle’s face. The fire flares up just enough to illuminate Dackle’s face. A scar, a new scar that has not been visible before, is just above his right eye.
In wrestling, when a performer has perished, when a performer has succumbed to the eternal darkness, they toll the bell ten times. It is one of the most meaningful, and sorrowful things that can take place on a show. Lethe, I am giving you a goal. We will face one another on the next show. We will compete. I want your goal to be that the beginning of the show after I systematically destroy you, I want your goal to be that that show does not begin with a bell tolling.
Dackle gets up out of his chair with such a force, the heavy chair falls behind him. The cameraman stumbles in a retreat. He falls, and the camera is pointed upward, towards the cathedral ceilings of the room. Dackle stands over the camera and gets right up against the lens.
Lethe, I am a freedom fighter. I have no remorse. While I may not be waging on in a holy war, soon there’ll come a day, when your face to face with me. And that day, that day is coming. You can take that to the bank.
With a bright flash, the room goes dark. A mysterious laugh is heard as the clock chimes again. The camera cuts to static.
