Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2014 1:56:47 GMT -6
Two years ago...
He watched.
He sat in a tattered old chair and watched the television. Like everything else in this ratty old home, the television is old too. It might have been in the house longer than he's been squatting there. It's a beat up old cathode ray thing that has certainly seen better days. The color's a warped old mess, every once in a while there's a pink or a blue hue but mostly what you get is a series of splotchy gray shapes. There's a chance that it's in the state it's in because of mechanical failure, maybe it's owner didn't take care of it, but the most likely candidate is simple exposure. This home is breaking down.
He hates what he sees.
It's a few miles back from the highway that runs toward The City. That's all he's ever called it. The City. A place of metal it shapes, and misguided people, and throbbing pain just under everybody's surface. It probably has a real name – something that would look fancy on an envelope if anybody bothered to send him any mail – but he doesn't give it any thought. It's the exact opposite of where he wants to be. He grins a bit. They love the city. The Others. They cling to it, they suckle on it but sooner or later all they want to do is get away. So they move far enough that they can still get a look at it's gleaming lights if they have to. They slave away for years to places like this. Then She took it back. The place was breaking down. Choking vines had broken their way bit by bit through the ivory walls and were winding their way up and down the steps. There were leaks everywhere. One of those had probably taken out the television. Once, he'd even found a weasel out on one of the countertops looking like it owned the place. Antranig had ignored it. Maybe it did.
On the screen one of the blotches lifted the other one to the top of the ring. He hooked the other man's arm over his head and pushed them both backward. For one beautiful moment his opponent was suspended in the air. Antranig tilted his head to the side a bit. Beautiful. One moment flying like a bird before you came crashing down and your body ripped itself apart from the forces. That was what wrestling was. A bunch of moving parts manipulated to rip themselves open.
The DVD player was new though. Brand new, stolen off the truck of some local government big wig who'd come to tell him to leave the property. The conversation hadn't been pleasant. His truck was still parked out back. The last he'd seen of him the man was running off into the woods trying to wipe the red from his eyes. Every now and then he wondered if he'd made it back to his city. Maybe the forest had taken him. He licked at his lips at the possibility. In any case, the DVD player belonged to the intruder. He'd taken it out along with a pile of discs and a bunch of paperwork he hadn't bothered to read. Something about an event proposal. A bunch of contracts he didn't give a damn about that had to be filled out...and these shows. These shows full of men breaking each other.
“What have you brought me?” He said softly, readjusting in his seat “Why was this so important?”
There were no accidents. Not out here. It disgusted him how simply people saw the world outside their cities. The real world right under their noses that they ignored. He saw it all. The world devouring itself bit by bit. He stood up and paced around his living room, cracking his neck and staring at a bit of rotting wood on the windowsill. They thought rot was about moisture working it's way through the wood and ruining it. It was spores. Spores and fungi. Fruits of the earth eating away at the cellulose from the inside. Rot and consumption like all things. The constant cycle of prey. She had brought this show to her. She had led that stooge out to her forest to show this to him. She'd made the government goof part of the cycle even if he was nothing but rotting wood. Why?
He scratched at his bushy, unkempt beard and nodded as he started to understand “Prey won't always come. Prey doesn't always know it's prey. Look at them. Look at them in their ring. Steel and cable. Look at it...” He knew he was rambling on but he didn't care. There was something here he was supposed to see. Antranig watched as the scene on screen shifted to a view of the announce table. A leather and gold belt sat on the table, and when one of the men defeated his opponent he rushed over to the table and snatched the belt away. He held it high above his head and screamed to the assembled crowd about how he'd defeated his opponent. Then he understood.
Antranig laughed. He was surprised to hear himself laughing at first, but then let it all out. The laughter came in a wild, throaty bleat and his entire body shook with the force of it. He put a hand up to the wall to keep himself upright and pointed at it “They give them a crown. I see it. They make a show of it and they put it in front of all these people. All these people who take themselves out of the world and build their steel circles...I see...”
He got close to the television and got on his knees to watch. There was a clap of thunder outside. The rain would come cascading down through the holes above him soon enough. He only had a few more minutes to get a sense of it. Afterward, he'd have to leave. There would be work to be done.
*~*~*~*~*
“You try so hard to keep yourself safe.”
There are words before there's anything on the screen. They're spoken just above a whisper before the camera slowly fades in from the darkness. The camera has taken us out into the woods. It's late into the night and the branches of the trees stretch over our subject like hands of the woods herself looking to snatch him up. The massive man sitting on the tree stump doesn't seem to care though. He stares forward into the camera, his face masked behind shaggy black hair and an unkempt looking beard. He's lit by a half dozen flashlights shining in from the trees. From those lights, as well as the muttering around him after his first words, it's clear that he's not alone.
“You started out here. We all did. You started under the stars and in the trees..and you had everything. Everything was right there for the taking, all you had to do was put in the effort to reach out and take it. But that was too much for some of you wasn't it? Because you're scared to reach. You're scared of the things out in the dark, out in the trees that you don't see until they bite down on your fingers. So you ran away and you spread out into the world. You built your towers and you cut yourself off from Her.”
And that's how he says it. Her. It's not just a pronoun. It's a name.
“But after years and years, you started looking our way again didn't you? Oh, every once in a while you decide you want to come out to the branches and get back in touch with the world. Problem is you forgot what the world was like. You forgot that out here all your lies about nature get stripped bare. See, it's not all deer and pretty flowers. It's not all sunshine and rainbows. This is a savage place. A place where everything is violent. Everything is feeding off everything else. It's not just the wolves or the bears. You look at a sorrel and it's choking the other plants around it to death. A bittersweet vine around a tree strangles it right next to it's mother and there's nothing that can be done about it. Because that's the cycle. Death and rebirth. Predator and prey is a false distinction, because at one time or another everybody plays both parts.”
There's an enthusiastic cheer from someone in the trees and Antranig gets up from his place on the stump. He's a big, big man but he's surprisingly light on his feet as he slowly turns in the middle of the trees.
“You mock your maker. Now that you've left her, you mock the cycle of predator and prey. Your wrestling is an abomination. At first, I didn't think much of it. But soon I saw. I saw because She wanted me to see. Do you want a hunt is like? You stalk, you learn and you strike. Once you strike there's no taking it back. Only one of you will walk away. Sooner or later someone gets it done. The prey falls and the predator devours. The most simple thing in the world. But it's what none of you do anymore. Not really. Still, you can't change your nature and like in all things your nature is to hunt. But since you took yourselves out of the woods, you had to make a show of it didn't you? So now you hunt in your ring. When the prey falls, you still feed....”
He turns back to the middle of the camera and runs his hands back and forth near his waist. The international wrestling symbol for title belt. He smirks and snickers.
“You feed on prestige. You feed on admiration. You feed on the love of people like you. People who want to live through your deeds as though they'd done something themselves. You're hungry. You're hungry and I don't even think you know why. Not deep down, not in your hearts. Don't worry. That's where I come in. Because I am different. I'm not like you people living. I've broken free of your web. Of your steel, and your glass, and your concrete. And I'm part of this world you don't want to look at. She showed me the way. She wrapped me in green and held me close. And when she kissed me I whispered in her ear that I would destroy you. I would rip you false predators away and I would lay your sins to bear.”
The last words are said in a savage snarl as he suddenly pounces forward to the camera. There's more whooping and cheers from the trees He grabs a hold of his beard and tugs on it to keep himself calm.
“But she...she is better than I am. The green is better than any of you deserve. Because she showed me the truth. She told me that some of you could see the light. Some of you could be made to understand if I opened your eyes. So I have spent the past few years making myself a weapon. I have turned your your mockery, your wrestling, into the real thing. I have become a predator and I have preyed on you. Look around me. Listen to the forest. Listen to my people. And understand, they used to be yours. See I haven't been some roaring lion charging out of the field to devour you. Not yet. No. No. I've been a vulture. I have been a carrion bird picking at what you've thrown away. Every time one of you goes down to injury because a promoter pushed you too far, I'm there. Every time one of you turns to drugs to make it through another match to pay your bills I'm there. And I will be here time and time again as the illusions are exposed to you. And soon, there will be more of me than there are of you. Because I can show you all a better way. If you deserve it.”
He sniffs at the air and lets out a slow whistle. It's an eerie sight; the way he snaps from calm to a frothing zealot.
“You don't deserve her kindness, Matt Lennox. Why would you? You've never questioned this have you? You've never wondered if what you're doing is the right thing. No, you love this don't you. All you've ever wanted to be is a wrestler. All you've ever wanted to do is standing in that box under those bright lights. When I saw that you were going to my opponent you can't imagine how excited I got. Because you are the perfect example of this mockery. You aren't some flashy showman. You aren't some...monster. You're just a man who wanted to go out and be good at this. You just wanted to be 'incredible'. And you are. Because I don't believe you. You are literally in-cred-ible. You're going to tell me that you've traveled, you've got the competition you've had and you never once saw the lies? You never once understood that there was a better way? You just swallowed everything they gave you, did you Lennox? I'm making a new world and there's no place for you in it. But you have a function, you have purpose in it's creation. I'm going to make an example of you.”
Antranig holds up one hand. He lowers his fingers, one by one until only his thumb and finger remain. His tone changes. The voice becomes sweeter, maybe even a little bit reverent and absolutely sympathetic.
“This is my instrument. With this hand, I will show you what you've forgotten. I will show you where we all end up. In The Rot. I need you to feel it Matt. I know you're sitting there somewhere, watching me on your computer and that fear is starting to creep up your spine. It's okay Matt. There's nothing wrong with fear, she put it in you for a reason. I want you to feel it. I want you to feel it all the way until you and I get in the ring. Because that's what the Rot is. It is slow, and it is torturous and it will consume you. I'm not going to get in the ring and eat you alive. I'm going to smother you. Bit by awful, awful little bit. And when you fade away you'll still be afraid. And so will all of them. That's alright. What she gives you, she takes away with rot. She gives it back the world. And the career you've been given has been impressive, and when I take it away I will give back to the world. They will understand that there is no choice. It is slow, it is all consuming and it is inescapable. There's no place for you Matt. Not where we're going. But you are a lucky man. You'll be a sign. And the first atrocity in a war for a greater good is NEVER forgotten. You should be happy. I am Antranig. I am the First Son. And I am ready.”
With that, he walks back over and takes a seat on his stump again. He holds a hand up in the air and we hear a final sound before the camera fades away. In the trees, his people are howling...
He watched.
He sat in a tattered old chair and watched the television. Like everything else in this ratty old home, the television is old too. It might have been in the house longer than he's been squatting there. It's a beat up old cathode ray thing that has certainly seen better days. The color's a warped old mess, every once in a while there's a pink or a blue hue but mostly what you get is a series of splotchy gray shapes. There's a chance that it's in the state it's in because of mechanical failure, maybe it's owner didn't take care of it, but the most likely candidate is simple exposure. This home is breaking down.
He hates what he sees.
It's a few miles back from the highway that runs toward The City. That's all he's ever called it. The City. A place of metal it shapes, and misguided people, and throbbing pain just under everybody's surface. It probably has a real name – something that would look fancy on an envelope if anybody bothered to send him any mail – but he doesn't give it any thought. It's the exact opposite of where he wants to be. He grins a bit. They love the city. The Others. They cling to it, they suckle on it but sooner or later all they want to do is get away. So they move far enough that they can still get a look at it's gleaming lights if they have to. They slave away for years to places like this. Then She took it back. The place was breaking down. Choking vines had broken their way bit by bit through the ivory walls and were winding their way up and down the steps. There were leaks everywhere. One of those had probably taken out the television. Once, he'd even found a weasel out on one of the countertops looking like it owned the place. Antranig had ignored it. Maybe it did.
On the screen one of the blotches lifted the other one to the top of the ring. He hooked the other man's arm over his head and pushed them both backward. For one beautiful moment his opponent was suspended in the air. Antranig tilted his head to the side a bit. Beautiful. One moment flying like a bird before you came crashing down and your body ripped itself apart from the forces. That was what wrestling was. A bunch of moving parts manipulated to rip themselves open.
The DVD player was new though. Brand new, stolen off the truck of some local government big wig who'd come to tell him to leave the property. The conversation hadn't been pleasant. His truck was still parked out back. The last he'd seen of him the man was running off into the woods trying to wipe the red from his eyes. Every now and then he wondered if he'd made it back to his city. Maybe the forest had taken him. He licked at his lips at the possibility. In any case, the DVD player belonged to the intruder. He'd taken it out along with a pile of discs and a bunch of paperwork he hadn't bothered to read. Something about an event proposal. A bunch of contracts he didn't give a damn about that had to be filled out...and these shows. These shows full of men breaking each other.
“What have you brought me?” He said softly, readjusting in his seat “Why was this so important?”
There were no accidents. Not out here. It disgusted him how simply people saw the world outside their cities. The real world right under their noses that they ignored. He saw it all. The world devouring itself bit by bit. He stood up and paced around his living room, cracking his neck and staring at a bit of rotting wood on the windowsill. They thought rot was about moisture working it's way through the wood and ruining it. It was spores. Spores and fungi. Fruits of the earth eating away at the cellulose from the inside. Rot and consumption like all things. The constant cycle of prey. She had brought this show to her. She had led that stooge out to her forest to show this to him. She'd made the government goof part of the cycle even if he was nothing but rotting wood. Why?
He scratched at his bushy, unkempt beard and nodded as he started to understand “Prey won't always come. Prey doesn't always know it's prey. Look at them. Look at them in their ring. Steel and cable. Look at it...” He knew he was rambling on but he didn't care. There was something here he was supposed to see. Antranig watched as the scene on screen shifted to a view of the announce table. A leather and gold belt sat on the table, and when one of the men defeated his opponent he rushed over to the table and snatched the belt away. He held it high above his head and screamed to the assembled crowd about how he'd defeated his opponent. Then he understood.
Antranig laughed. He was surprised to hear himself laughing at first, but then let it all out. The laughter came in a wild, throaty bleat and his entire body shook with the force of it. He put a hand up to the wall to keep himself upright and pointed at it “They give them a crown. I see it. They make a show of it and they put it in front of all these people. All these people who take themselves out of the world and build their steel circles...I see...”
He got close to the television and got on his knees to watch. There was a clap of thunder outside. The rain would come cascading down through the holes above him soon enough. He only had a few more minutes to get a sense of it. Afterward, he'd have to leave. There would be work to be done.
*~*~*~*~*
“You try so hard to keep yourself safe.”
There are words before there's anything on the screen. They're spoken just above a whisper before the camera slowly fades in from the darkness. The camera has taken us out into the woods. It's late into the night and the branches of the trees stretch over our subject like hands of the woods herself looking to snatch him up. The massive man sitting on the tree stump doesn't seem to care though. He stares forward into the camera, his face masked behind shaggy black hair and an unkempt looking beard. He's lit by a half dozen flashlights shining in from the trees. From those lights, as well as the muttering around him after his first words, it's clear that he's not alone.
“You started out here. We all did. You started under the stars and in the trees..and you had everything. Everything was right there for the taking, all you had to do was put in the effort to reach out and take it. But that was too much for some of you wasn't it? Because you're scared to reach. You're scared of the things out in the dark, out in the trees that you don't see until they bite down on your fingers. So you ran away and you spread out into the world. You built your towers and you cut yourself off from Her.”
And that's how he says it. Her. It's not just a pronoun. It's a name.
“But after years and years, you started looking our way again didn't you? Oh, every once in a while you decide you want to come out to the branches and get back in touch with the world. Problem is you forgot what the world was like. You forgot that out here all your lies about nature get stripped bare. See, it's not all deer and pretty flowers. It's not all sunshine and rainbows. This is a savage place. A place where everything is violent. Everything is feeding off everything else. It's not just the wolves or the bears. You look at a sorrel and it's choking the other plants around it to death. A bittersweet vine around a tree strangles it right next to it's mother and there's nothing that can be done about it. Because that's the cycle. Death and rebirth. Predator and prey is a false distinction, because at one time or another everybody plays both parts.”
There's an enthusiastic cheer from someone in the trees and Antranig gets up from his place on the stump. He's a big, big man but he's surprisingly light on his feet as he slowly turns in the middle of the trees.
“You mock your maker. Now that you've left her, you mock the cycle of predator and prey. Your wrestling is an abomination. At first, I didn't think much of it. But soon I saw. I saw because She wanted me to see. Do you want a hunt is like? You stalk, you learn and you strike. Once you strike there's no taking it back. Only one of you will walk away. Sooner or later someone gets it done. The prey falls and the predator devours. The most simple thing in the world. But it's what none of you do anymore. Not really. Still, you can't change your nature and like in all things your nature is to hunt. But since you took yourselves out of the woods, you had to make a show of it didn't you? So now you hunt in your ring. When the prey falls, you still feed....”
He turns back to the middle of the camera and runs his hands back and forth near his waist. The international wrestling symbol for title belt. He smirks and snickers.
“You feed on prestige. You feed on admiration. You feed on the love of people like you. People who want to live through your deeds as though they'd done something themselves. You're hungry. You're hungry and I don't even think you know why. Not deep down, not in your hearts. Don't worry. That's where I come in. Because I am different. I'm not like you people living. I've broken free of your web. Of your steel, and your glass, and your concrete. And I'm part of this world you don't want to look at. She showed me the way. She wrapped me in green and held me close. And when she kissed me I whispered in her ear that I would destroy you. I would rip you false predators away and I would lay your sins to bear.”
The last words are said in a savage snarl as he suddenly pounces forward to the camera. There's more whooping and cheers from the trees He grabs a hold of his beard and tugs on it to keep himself calm.
“But she...she is better than I am. The green is better than any of you deserve. Because she showed me the truth. She told me that some of you could see the light. Some of you could be made to understand if I opened your eyes. So I have spent the past few years making myself a weapon. I have turned your your mockery, your wrestling, into the real thing. I have become a predator and I have preyed on you. Look around me. Listen to the forest. Listen to my people. And understand, they used to be yours. See I haven't been some roaring lion charging out of the field to devour you. Not yet. No. No. I've been a vulture. I have been a carrion bird picking at what you've thrown away. Every time one of you goes down to injury because a promoter pushed you too far, I'm there. Every time one of you turns to drugs to make it through another match to pay your bills I'm there. And I will be here time and time again as the illusions are exposed to you. And soon, there will be more of me than there are of you. Because I can show you all a better way. If you deserve it.”
He sniffs at the air and lets out a slow whistle. It's an eerie sight; the way he snaps from calm to a frothing zealot.
“You don't deserve her kindness, Matt Lennox. Why would you? You've never questioned this have you? You've never wondered if what you're doing is the right thing. No, you love this don't you. All you've ever wanted to be is a wrestler. All you've ever wanted to do is standing in that box under those bright lights. When I saw that you were going to my opponent you can't imagine how excited I got. Because you are the perfect example of this mockery. You aren't some flashy showman. You aren't some...monster. You're just a man who wanted to go out and be good at this. You just wanted to be 'incredible'. And you are. Because I don't believe you. You are literally in-cred-ible. You're going to tell me that you've traveled, you've got the competition you've had and you never once saw the lies? You never once understood that there was a better way? You just swallowed everything they gave you, did you Lennox? I'm making a new world and there's no place for you in it. But you have a function, you have purpose in it's creation. I'm going to make an example of you.”
Antranig holds up one hand. He lowers his fingers, one by one until only his thumb and finger remain. His tone changes. The voice becomes sweeter, maybe even a little bit reverent and absolutely sympathetic.
“This is my instrument. With this hand, I will show you what you've forgotten. I will show you where we all end up. In The Rot. I need you to feel it Matt. I know you're sitting there somewhere, watching me on your computer and that fear is starting to creep up your spine. It's okay Matt. There's nothing wrong with fear, she put it in you for a reason. I want you to feel it. I want you to feel it all the way until you and I get in the ring. Because that's what the Rot is. It is slow, and it is torturous and it will consume you. I'm not going to get in the ring and eat you alive. I'm going to smother you. Bit by awful, awful little bit. And when you fade away you'll still be afraid. And so will all of them. That's alright. What she gives you, she takes away with rot. She gives it back the world. And the career you've been given has been impressive, and when I take it away I will give back to the world. They will understand that there is no choice. It is slow, it is all consuming and it is inescapable. There's no place for you Matt. Not where we're going. But you are a lucky man. You'll be a sign. And the first atrocity in a war for a greater good is NEVER forgotten. You should be happy. I am Antranig. I am the First Son. And I am ready.”
With that, he walks back over and takes a seat on his stump again. He holds a hand up in the air and we hear a final sound before the camera fades away. In the trees, his people are howling...