Post by Obi on Aug 15, 2008 15:06:03 GMT -5
The Mask.
I sit.
Looking at the walls before me, I look forward as a collage of broken memories flash through out the cracked walls in front of me. Memories of days long since passed come clearly into view while apparitions of future events flash in limited obscurity. I reach forward with tired, worn down fingers to stop the memories just long enough for my mind to engulf them.
As if upon my mental command, a memory stops in front of me. As I squint, I can make out a grey field of death. Wooden stakes cross through out the area as bodies are littered about in a mock visage of depression. The living make their way across the bloodied grass in hopes of gaining some ground against the unforeseen enemy forces. As a hand comes into view out of a ditch, I take notice of the dried blood that blanketed the fingers as it outstretches towards the sky above. Grabbing and yet pulling at the earth, the fingers begin to carry a body behind them. Looking out over the scene, I can see myself. With dust covering my features, I look as though I had seen far too much sadness in such a short period of time. As my right hand comes into view, I take notice that I carry a mask.
Then the memories scatter yet again.
In confusion, I quickly try to stop the visions just long enough to understand but one of them. Once again, another memory slows down and reveals another thought that had long since left my mind. A medium sized wrestling mat is in front of me. With the canvas feeling cold and unforgiving, I see myself laying down on my back. With my open palms facing the floor, I concentrate on my breathing. The vibrations of the mat begin to become striking as I turn my head. My hair, tossed about due to some kind of previous exercise, becomes twisted as I look at a set of boots that are level with my eyes. Looking up, I see the face of an old acquaintance. Leaning forward, with dark black hair partially covering his face, Warrior holds a sign that reads.. “Children of the damned.”
Then the memories scatter once again.
Rising from my bed, I lay my hands upon my bald head. I feel as if I am losing my ability to cope with reality as I stumble about my room. Slowly, I open my eyes only to see a window before me. As the sunlight peers through the slim panel of glass, I place my hand against the material and feel it’s cold response. There are bars covering the window. I am in some sort of prison. Quickly, I look down at my shirt to take notice that I am wearing Grey inmate apparel. In a reaction of chaos, I dig my nails deep into the cotton and remove the garment, tossing the shreds upon the grey marble floor. A stale gust of wind blows against my earlobe as I turn my head towards the window again. Where a window stood closed, keeping me fully against my will, now stood an open window with sounds of children bellowing from it’s depths. I walk towards this window as my bare feet slide against the ground. As I do my best to peer through the window, the bright light of the sun inhibits my view. As my eyes gain focus, I make out a shape laying upon the grass below me. As the shape becomes large in clarity, it finally forms a symbol that seems to haunt my dreams. I see… a mask.
Staggering backwards, I slap my face aggressively to awaken myself from this nightmare. My back bangs against the wall behind me as I hear a bell being clanged. Looking up, I see that I am standing once again upon a ring mat. Laying next to me, Warrior is on his back as I am holding him down for the pin. A referee holds his mouth wide as he counts down to a three count. I lean forward to gain a better look as the referee grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet. My now bald head shines from the perspiration of the event. I am handed a title belt. Looking down, I see that I am carrying a EUW World Championship. The lights of the arena shine down upon the gold as the reflection blinds me. I try to turn my head and as I do, I take notice of the arena banner hanging over me. “Ring of Fire, August 27th , 2007. Looking back down at my title, I quickly jump in shock as I realize that where my Heavyweight title once laid now sat a familiar object. A mask.
I fall to the ground and begin to weep. My body convulses as I do my best to keep my eyes closed. I can hear voices and screams but yet I refuse to look. As the room finally grows silent, I am daring in my actions as I open one eye to test the area. I am once again in my bedroom. My sheets are neatly folded and the tan blinds are slightly opened allowing the sunshine in to blanket the room minimally. I rise to my feet and look to my desk chair. Sitting right where I left it, my EUW World Heavyweight Title looks back at me. I sigh in relief as my visions are over. The stress of the last few weeks were obviously taking a toll on my subconscious, I suppose, as I stand straight up and hold my chin high. Taking in a deep breath, I right myself and walk towards my bedroom door. As if making a gesture to gain my attention, I look to my window once again and notice that an item was waiting for me.
Walking towards the window, I reach forward and take hold of a mask. With it’s black and red material feeling soft in my fingertips, I feel it’s texture while smirking through dry lips. I turn towards my bedroom door once again and begin to move towards it. A poster of an upcoming event stands into view as I see my eventual showdown with the man known as Oblivion. I reach down into my pocket and remove the mask yet again. Sliding it over my head, I look through netted eye slots and mentally challenge Oblivion. Leaving the bedroom with my title over my shoulder, I walk into the world as I always have. With memories… and my mask.
I sit.
Looking at the walls before me, I look forward as a collage of broken memories flash through out the cracked walls in front of me. Memories of days long since passed come clearly into view while apparitions of future events flash in limited obscurity. I reach forward with tired, worn down fingers to stop the memories just long enough for my mind to engulf them.
As if upon my mental command, a memory stops in front of me. As I squint, I can make out a grey field of death. Wooden stakes cross through out the area as bodies are littered about in a mock visage of depression. The living make their way across the bloodied grass in hopes of gaining some ground against the unforeseen enemy forces. As a hand comes into view out of a ditch, I take notice of the dried blood that blanketed the fingers as it outstretches towards the sky above. Grabbing and yet pulling at the earth, the fingers begin to carry a body behind them. Looking out over the scene, I can see myself. With dust covering my features, I look as though I had seen far too much sadness in such a short period of time. As my right hand comes into view, I take notice that I carry a mask.
Then the memories scatter yet again.
In confusion, I quickly try to stop the visions just long enough to understand but one of them. Once again, another memory slows down and reveals another thought that had long since left my mind. A medium sized wrestling mat is in front of me. With the canvas feeling cold and unforgiving, I see myself laying down on my back. With my open palms facing the floor, I concentrate on my breathing. The vibrations of the mat begin to become striking as I turn my head. My hair, tossed about due to some kind of previous exercise, becomes twisted as I look at a set of boots that are level with my eyes. Looking up, I see the face of an old acquaintance. Leaning forward, with dark black hair partially covering his face, Warrior holds a sign that reads.. “Children of the damned.”
Then the memories scatter once again.
Rising from my bed, I lay my hands upon my bald head. I feel as if I am losing my ability to cope with reality as I stumble about my room. Slowly, I open my eyes only to see a window before me. As the sunlight peers through the slim panel of glass, I place my hand against the material and feel it’s cold response. There are bars covering the window. I am in some sort of prison. Quickly, I look down at my shirt to take notice that I am wearing Grey inmate apparel. In a reaction of chaos, I dig my nails deep into the cotton and remove the garment, tossing the shreds upon the grey marble floor. A stale gust of wind blows against my earlobe as I turn my head towards the window again. Where a window stood closed, keeping me fully against my will, now stood an open window with sounds of children bellowing from it’s depths. I walk towards this window as my bare feet slide against the ground. As I do my best to peer through the window, the bright light of the sun inhibits my view. As my eyes gain focus, I make out a shape laying upon the grass below me. As the shape becomes large in clarity, it finally forms a symbol that seems to haunt my dreams. I see… a mask.
Staggering backwards, I slap my face aggressively to awaken myself from this nightmare. My back bangs against the wall behind me as I hear a bell being clanged. Looking up, I see that I am standing once again upon a ring mat. Laying next to me, Warrior is on his back as I am holding him down for the pin. A referee holds his mouth wide as he counts down to a three count. I lean forward to gain a better look as the referee grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet. My now bald head shines from the perspiration of the event. I am handed a title belt. Looking down, I see that I am carrying a EUW World Championship. The lights of the arena shine down upon the gold as the reflection blinds me. I try to turn my head and as I do, I take notice of the arena banner hanging over me. “Ring of Fire, August 27th , 2007. Looking back down at my title, I quickly jump in shock as I realize that where my Heavyweight title once laid now sat a familiar object. A mask.
I fall to the ground and begin to weep. My body convulses as I do my best to keep my eyes closed. I can hear voices and screams but yet I refuse to look. As the room finally grows silent, I am daring in my actions as I open one eye to test the area. I am once again in my bedroom. My sheets are neatly folded and the tan blinds are slightly opened allowing the sunshine in to blanket the room minimally. I rise to my feet and look to my desk chair. Sitting right where I left it, my EUW World Heavyweight Title looks back at me. I sigh in relief as my visions are over. The stress of the last few weeks were obviously taking a toll on my subconscious, I suppose, as I stand straight up and hold my chin high. Taking in a deep breath, I right myself and walk towards my bedroom door. As if making a gesture to gain my attention, I look to my window once again and notice that an item was waiting for me.
Walking towards the window, I reach forward and take hold of a mask. With it’s black and red material feeling soft in my fingertips, I feel it’s texture while smirking through dry lips. I turn towards my bedroom door once again and begin to move towards it. A poster of an upcoming event stands into view as I see my eventual showdown with the man known as Oblivion. I reach down into my pocket and remove the mask yet again. Sliding it over my head, I look through netted eye slots and mentally challenge Oblivion. Leaving the bedroom with my title over my shoulder, I walk into the world as I always have. With memories… and my mask.
