Post by Claire Hawkins on Jan 10, 2021 22:54:23 GMT -5
The camera fades in to reveal a large and spacious room which seemed to once be a warehouse in nature at some point. Yet, it wasn't the sordid and rustic appearance of a building slowly decaying, but that of a woman sitting upon a simple dining room chair; faded white paint coated atop a wooden skeleton. Clad in a pair of faded light blue jeans and a black tank top, the woman sat with the soles of her boots planted firmly upon the dusty concrete floor as she kept her nose and mouth hidden behind loosely cupped hands; the familiar crimson-eyed gaze focused on something behind the camera. For several long moments, there was nothing but a haunting silence dominating the scene. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the raven-haired woman broke her hunched posture in order to lean back against the skeletal frame that was the back of the chair; arms crossing and laid to rest upon her stomach.
"Where do I begin?
Is there even a way to begin?
Are the words-MY WORDS- going to be heard or fall upon deaf ears?
Should I even speak at all?"
With the unfamiliar tone of self-doubt coloring her voice, the crimson-eyed woman continued to look past that camera; eyes unfocused and seemingly lost. For several painstakingly long moments, she sat completely still and shrouded within the gentle embrace of utter silence; the steady sight of her breath the only indication of life from here within the frigid scene. Then, with a breathless sigh, she leaned forward so that she could lay the bottoms of her forearms upon her knees as she fixed the camera with a sharp and poignant gaze.
"Normally.....normally I have some sort of plan for these videos; like burning scarecrows or something. Yet, over the last week, there was been such unsettling turbulence that has come to pass that it almost feels cheap to follow the same formula. This nation, a nation that I have come to view with a critical eye, has experienced such a radical incident that seems to dwell within its own bubble of insanity that it almost feels like a dream. The people, people that have been purposely divided for decades, are literally at each other's throats and demanding that blood be shed so that they might feel vindicated about whatever it is they choose to place their faith in.
Trailing off into silence once more, the woman lowered her gaze to the floor and sat completely still. Then, with abrupt explosiveness that might be alarming, she shot to her feet with such a force that the skeleton-like chair fell backward with a chaotic clattering. Yet, it was those crimson eyes filled with molten fire that drew the attention of every person watching.
"Are you fucking serious?!
Now that shit has finally reached an irreparable point you act as if THIS was some huge surprise! That the people that held diabolical intent hadn't been planning any of this? It doesn't matter which side of the political spectrum you color yourself in, the mock disdain and feigned ignorance that you people display is something that I can't stand. Yet, fortunately, for you, I can't reach through these screens-or travel to every household- in order to slap the shit out of you for being fucking simple-minded and so fucking easily manipulated! Instead, I get to take out whatever the fuck i"m feeling on some poor shill that falsely assumes that just because you call yourself THE SHOWSTOPPER that you're actually going to stop the show and be something.
Guess what, Steven; I'm going to kick your ass and there isn't fuck all you can do about it!
It's a big shock to you, but the reality is that you're not the first arrogantly ignorant fuck that has stepped into Action Wrestling nor will you be the last. You can claim to be a submission specialist and that you ooze sex appeal. However, that isn't sex appeal that you ooze; it's the unmistakable slime of unfounded narcissism of spoiled manchild that just to experience anything meaningful in life.
You haven't struggled.
You've never felt TRUE pain.
Even last Clash, when you were beaten by the fifty-year-old faux clown, you didn't experience anything when you should have. You can sit back and scoff; telling yourself that I don't know a fucking thing about you. Yet, as I said before, you're not the only self-indulgent shill that has darkened the threshold of Action Wrestling; and, like them, you won't be the last one that I send back out with a whole new perspective. Cause, unlike you, I've actually had to struggle in order for people to take notice of what I can do within a wrestling ring; I've gone through the pain that comes that shadows the truly living.
I've won championships!
I've made history!
I've even fucking died!
Yet, when we step into the ring on Monday, you will come to understand that there is one thing that I am eternally synonymous with; hate. Whether it's directed AT me or if I am the one spitting venom, hate is the one thing that everyone must experience if they are going to make it through this hellish tale that the foolish deem life. I'm going to unleash the hate that I've kept fettered inside and, as the Black Veil descends upon your career, you're going to wish that I put a Silver BUllet through your FUCKING skull."
Using the frantic energy that had been building throughout her tirade, the woman violently reared back; letting loose an enraged scream that could only come from Action Wrestling's resident Banshee. Then, once she had exhausted the pent-up energies, the crimson-eyed woman looked into the camera once more; eyes burning brightly.
"Quoth the Witch Forever-fucking-more."
Then, as the camera faded to the black abyss of an ending, the crimson-eyed woman with porcelain skin and raven-black hair turned her back to the camera; walking with an unspoken purpose within her confident and gracefully ethereal strut.