Post by Jason Phoenix on Apr 16, 2011 14:15:08 GMT -5
Darkness. We find Jason Phoenix sitting on the floor of an unfamiliar room. A grandfather clock slowly tics in the background, showing the time to be just after 3 a.m. The walls are decorated lavishly with ornate wallpaper and many paintings. He holds a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, obviously worn from many foldings and unfoldings. He wears a stark white hospital mask dangling around his neck. A gas can sits next to him. His eyes don’t leave the paper.
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So this is it, huh? After all the shit you’ve put me through, this is how it’s going to end; a grudge match between me and some guy that I’ve already beat before. You say I’m so talented and great, but I haven’t won a match in months, unless you count last week, but I don’t. I didn’t personally take Nash down, I was just watching; just a spectator in the crowd for all I’m concerned. I want a pin fall. But unfortunately my so called “talent” seems to have disappeared.
He looks up from the letter and slowly around the room. He stands.
My past at Pride has been like a roller coaster. I haven’t been here long but boy have I made an impact. I came in and had to fight the best, and proceeded to get my ass handed to me. But after that loss, I trained and became stronger and was nearly undefeated for a month!
He sits in an elaborate arm chair, covering the ivory upholstery with the dirt from his unwashed hands and clothes.
Then the trouble started, I began to be forced into much bigger matches, and began losing again. I have barely won a match in the past three months. So this closing actually works out very well for me. I’m leaving this shithole. I’ll just hitch hike my way until I find something else; something better, something worse, just…something. This phoenix needs to spread his wings and fly a little. I moved up here months ago, trying to get a fresh start, but all it caused was more pain and suffering than I needed.
He rises.
The memories are too strong. I need to get them out of my head. The fire is slowly helping me cleanse my past; with every flame I create, another memory burns away. But it’s not working fast enough. The thoughts still haunt my dreams. So I’ve decided that there is only one way to solve my dilemma; and this time, I’ll do it right.
Phoenix walks over to where he was seated and picks up the gas can. He lifts the mask and places it over his mouth and nose. He then opens the cap of the can and begins to pour the bitter-sweet-smelling liquid around the room.
In mythology, the sacred phoenix gains substantial power, then at death bursts into a flurry of flames, creating nothing but ash, and is then reborn, rising from the ashes. I have attempted to do this many times, but have yet to succeed. But I know now what I’ve been doing wrong; I need to destroy my past before I can rise anew.
He empties the last drop of the can and tosses it across the room, walking to the doorway of the house. He picks up the letter he was so enthralled with earlier and stares at it.
I can’t do this anymore. I need something more. You have pushed me and pushed me, but I can’t take it. I need out.
He pulls his zippo out of his pocket and flicks it open, bringing the flame to life.
…I’m sorry Sterling.
He holds the paper up and lights it ablaze, then tosses it into the gasoline-filled room, turning and running out in the process as the room ignites. As he runs he passes the mailbox of the house. In elaborate gold lettering the words on the side read, “The Havens”. Phoenix runs into the darkness of the night. As the scene fades a woman’s screaming voice is heard.
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So this is it, huh? After all the shit you’ve put me through, this is how it’s going to end; a grudge match between me and some guy that I’ve already beat before. You say I’m so talented and great, but I haven’t won a match in months, unless you count last week, but I don’t. I didn’t personally take Nash down, I was just watching; just a spectator in the crowd for all I’m concerned. I want a pin fall. But unfortunately my so called “talent” seems to have disappeared.
He looks up from the letter and slowly around the room. He stands.
My past at Pride has been like a roller coaster. I haven’t been here long but boy have I made an impact. I came in and had to fight the best, and proceeded to get my ass handed to me. But after that loss, I trained and became stronger and was nearly undefeated for a month!
He sits in an elaborate arm chair, covering the ivory upholstery with the dirt from his unwashed hands and clothes.
Then the trouble started, I began to be forced into much bigger matches, and began losing again. I have barely won a match in the past three months. So this closing actually works out very well for me. I’m leaving this shithole. I’ll just hitch hike my way until I find something else; something better, something worse, just…something. This phoenix needs to spread his wings and fly a little. I moved up here months ago, trying to get a fresh start, but all it caused was more pain and suffering than I needed.
He rises.
The memories are too strong. I need to get them out of my head. The fire is slowly helping me cleanse my past; with every flame I create, another memory burns away. But it’s not working fast enough. The thoughts still haunt my dreams. So I’ve decided that there is only one way to solve my dilemma; and this time, I’ll do it right.
Phoenix walks over to where he was seated and picks up the gas can. He lifts the mask and places it over his mouth and nose. He then opens the cap of the can and begins to pour the bitter-sweet-smelling liquid around the room.
In mythology, the sacred phoenix gains substantial power, then at death bursts into a flurry of flames, creating nothing but ash, and is then reborn, rising from the ashes. I have attempted to do this many times, but have yet to succeed. But I know now what I’ve been doing wrong; I need to destroy my past before I can rise anew.
He empties the last drop of the can and tosses it across the room, walking to the doorway of the house. He picks up the letter he was so enthralled with earlier and stares at it.
I can’t do this anymore. I need something more. You have pushed me and pushed me, but I can’t take it. I need out.
He pulls his zippo out of his pocket and flicks it open, bringing the flame to life.
…I’m sorry Sterling.
He holds the paper up and lights it ablaze, then tosses it into the gasoline-filled room, turning and running out in the process as the room ignites. As he runs he passes the mailbox of the house. In elaborate gold lettering the words on the side read, “The Havens”. Phoenix runs into the darkness of the night. As the scene fades a woman’s screaming voice is heard.
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