Listen to me
Scene One | Off-Camera | 08/02/2022
“You need to listen to me, rockstar. You need to listen good. I’m going home, and if you aren’t coming, that’s on you baby. But I ain’t staying to watch you burn up. Rebuild, refocus, whatever you wanna call it. I ain’t here for it. Good luck Alex. I love you, rockstar.”
Raven hung up his phone, having listened to the voicemail for a final time. His eyes fixated upon the picture of him and his best friend that filled the lock screen of his phone. It was an older photo. Real old. Alex had short hair, his old red pads and tights. James had the sunglasses, his hair greasy, and the purple trunks. They were fresh, they were young. They were hungry.
“I’m sorry James.”
He raised his eyes up to the setting sun. The cigarette raised to his lips, a slow inhale. Lost deep in his own mind, watching as a plane takes off through the sky, his eyes watching as it goes.
“I can’t come back. Not yet.”
Another deep inhale, settling back into his chair, eyes closing slowly. Slowed breathing, the cigarette going limp on his lips. The world going dark, and the darkness blinding behind his eyelids.
The sizzle of flesh burning, a sharp inhale of pain as he sat up. The sun had gone, the world plunged into darkness. The cigarette ember had fallen onto his hand, burning it. Shaking his hand off, he dropped the filter into an ashtray, and blew on the burn.
“You’re pathetic.”
Alex’s head snapped back, looking around. A familiar voice in his ears. A voice that couldn’t exist. A voice that belonged to the dead. Yet, he was alone. Nobody was there.
“Failure, upon failure. Always a failure.”
“Shut up.”
Alex grunted in frustration. The voice wasn’t coming from around him, but deep in his own mind. The voice of his tormenting father. The voice of the man he had buried. Forever buried.
“Shut up, shut up. You never listen, you just shut everyone up. Pathetic, Alex. James offered you the world and you let it leave.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
His knuckles dug into his temples, shaking his head back and forth in frustration. Leaning forward, pressing his elbows hard into his thighs, slowly opening his palms to cover his ears and sides of his head.
“You’re lost in your own instability Alex. I’m not even real anymore, and you still can’t silence me. You’re lost, and you can’t admit it. Hiding behind masks. Hiding, hiding.”
“You don’t understand me. You don’t get it.”
“I’m not the one who bloodies a dead man in their dreams, Alex. I’m not the one who cannot believe their own false words. False King, False Idol, False Messiah. Everything about you is false, Alex. You can’t separate fact from fiction.”[/I
A deep breath in. A deep breath out.
In.
Out.
“I am not lost. I am not broken. I am not a liar. I know who I am. I know.”
“You’re pathetic, Alex. Pathetic.”
“I will rebuild. I will refocus. I will be champion. I will be the king. I am the fucking King.”
“Don’t fail again, Alexander.”
Focused.
Rebuild
Scene Two | On-camera | 10/02/2022
“Instead of the bulldog being neutered. I got my wings clipped. It’s a reality. One I do not appreciate, but it is the truth. The truth is, I failed. The truth is, I didn't lead anyone. The truth is, the conspiracy went hungry. The truth is that I failed. That I lost my worth. That I became pathetic. There is no excuse for one loss, yet two? Two losses, unacceptable. I cannot accept this. I must rebuild.”
“I will rebuild.”
A chair, spotlighted. A man upon it, bare chest, tattered jeans, bare feet. Hair cut short, rough stubble. Eyes closed.
“Rebuild.”
“I am, Alexander Raven. Who is, Alexander Raven? A man lost, a man found. Tortured by demons of the past. Tortured by his own failures. Tortured by a desire to succeed. I was once The King. I will be the The King again. Ascend the mountain, and claim the crown once more. No more failure. No more loss. No more mockery of the path that led me here. I am, Alexander Raven. I will be the One True King again. Those who follow, will always follow. My congregation, my conspiracy. They will always nip at the heels for food. They will always eat the carrion I leave for them. Acknowledged or otherwise, they will fall in line, or become the feed of the masses. Lost, I am. Pathetic, I will not be. A failure, no longer.”
“Thank you, Knox. Thank you, Bulldog. A bird and a dog. Locked jaws, fluttering feathers, bleeding and limp. Tear the throat and release the essence of existence. Freed by the pecking of the beak. Revived by the lapping of the tongue. Understanding, accepting. I will, rebuild my kingdom. I will, rebuild my crown. I will, rebuild…”
“Alexander Raven.”
The spotlight flickers, then clicks off. The click of a lighter, failing. More clicks, sparks of light emanating through the dark. Then a lantern hanging from a pole ignites. Then another, and another. A trail of lanterns lighting, illuminating a path.
“I am, the true and the false. I am the leader of broken, and the messiah for them. I am, the king. I will sit upon the mountain top because there is one reality. The reality of Alexander Raven. Disconnected from it, is everyone. Disconnected from the truth. I will show them all. I will show them all my truth! Fenris! You will be the one that falls to make the steps to my ascension. No more, no less. I will not fail again. I cannot fail again. I won’t allow myself to fail again. Losing may be inevitable, but if I need to hurt someone. I will ensure I hurt them sufficiently. No more will I let the odds be stacked. I will level the playing field, and I will do it anyway I need to.”
“Blood will flow if I so demand it. Bones will break, if I so want it. Reality will become what I make it. No more disconnect. No more lies. My truth, is the only truth. Complacency in being acceptable is no longer so. I will not be content until I stand above all others. Free of the cliques and social circles that make up this world. Independent of the drama that inhabits all that surround me. I am, Alexander Raven, and I am going to be the one that sits atop that mountain top.”
The wooden floor between rows of pews glowered with the lantern light. A steep stop, and then the pulpit. A click and the rush of flames. Stained glass suddenly illuminated, the image of a raven wrapping a mountain in its wings. The world chaotic around it. Flames flickering behind the glass, keeping the image dancing with moving light.
“Blood. Blood is the flavour of existence, and it is with blood that path is forged. Blood is the essence of life, and it is in that I find solace. The loss of life, the stilling of blood, feeds the scavengers. Feeds my conspiracy. Like vultures they pick everything clean. You’re a man with trained fists, Fenris. You’re a man who knows how to fight. You’re a man who knows how to hurt and let the blood. Bloodied knuckles are a constant of my life. I’ve always been far too eager to settle with violence what should have been solved with wit. Words have become my power, not because I cannot fight, but because I choose not to. Yet, understanding is important. Understanding that blood sometimes speaks words that no wit can muster. That no professor of manipulation can succeed on. Failure to hone my fists has let me down. No longer, Fenris. No longer, will I fail.”
“I made a promise, that I cannot keep any longer. Yet, they will forgive me. They will forgive that I cannot just allow myself to be mocked and belittled. They will forgive, for they always understood. They always understood, even when I couldn’t. I was their king, and I will be their king again. Though their blood no longer flows in their own, I will let their soul exist forevermore in my own.”
The pinstripe blue suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned just slightly too far down. Rough stubble, messy hair. Alexander Raven, Cheshire smile spread widely across his face.
Lost Love
Scene Three | Off-Camera | 24/01/2019
“She’s gone, James.”
Alex was sitting on the run-down couch. The tiny apartment felt even tinier today. His eyes bloodshot, red raw. Face stained with tears, agony deep in his eyes.
“What do you mean, she’s gone? What the fuck do you mean, Alex?”
James knew what he meant. Alex knew he didn’t really want to hear the truth. But he needed to. Lauren was gone. The shining light of stability in Alexander’s life, gone. Deceased.
“It happened last night. She didn’t wake up. She just… didn’t wake up.”
James placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder, and squeezed. He squeezed so hard he thought it might pop it right out. Heartbreak in both of their eyes. She may have been Alex’s lover, but she was James’ best friend as well. Three peas in a pod, living their life.
“She told me, how proud she was of you, all the time, Ravey. All the time. You know, she wanted you to give it one more go. She could see it baby, she could see it. You, on top of the world again. This time with a guiding hand, sugar. A guiding hand and a loving one too. Someone to ground you, rockstar. Someone to keep you from losing yourself to yourself. She was proud of you. Don’t you forget that.”
James, ever the man of macho, dropped the sunglasses onto his face. Not letting his tears flow. Not yet. They’d come, just not yet. Not whilst Alex needed to hurt. Not whilst he was dying inside.
“I can’t do it James. Not without her. I can’t do it man. I promised her. I promised I wouldn’t become that guy again. I promised I wouldn’t hurt people, again. Not like that. No more blood. No more violence. No more.”
“I know rockstar. I know. But you gotta trust me on this. She wanted you happy, she always did. She showed you a way, baby. She showed you a way to do it, without being you. Without the blood and guts. Without the violence, rockstar. Words, Alex. Words. You got the gift of the gab my friend, and a mind of clarity now. Manipulation of the mind will always be your asset. Not like me. I ain’t one for chattin’. I’m action baby, all action. But I can’t do it no more. I don’t want it. But you do, don’t you? She loved you Alex. Even with your brains pouring onto the cement. She wrapped you up each time, and she kissed your wounds healthy. Trust me Alex. When you’re ready, you do her proud. You do her proud, rockstar.”
James loosened his grip and turned away, leaning against a window frame. Alex looked on in despair, lost and hurt. Yet truth rang. Truth always rang deep. One day, he’d step in that ring again. Not for him. Not for anyone. For her. And he’d anything to ensure he reached the peak, just to brush her greatness.
“Get some rest. I’ll come by later.”
Alex nodded, and laid himself down on the couch. A blanket draped over his body, the light tapping of shoes as James walked away. The click of the door. Then silence.
So much damn silence.
He was alone, and he hated it. It was quiet, and he hated it. Without her, the world was bleak and dark. Without her, he had no love.
Reality
Scene Four | On-Camera | 10/02/2022
“Fenris.”
“You’re something of a boogeyman here, aren’t you? A man who knows how to get it done. A worker among workers. Someone who, like me, is gonna climb that mountain, one damn body at a time. I respect that Fenris. I do, I respect a man who works for what he gets. It takes a lot to step from one cage into another, I know that. It takes a helluva lot more to do it, and do it well. You’re not the first man of trained fists to step in the ring with me. I doubt very much you will be the last either. It does not frighten me, Fenris. The aura, the danger. It does not scare me in the slightest. The reality is this. I need to beat people like you, to prove that I can do what I say. I failed against the Bulldog, I have no excuse for that. I failed against Knox, I have no excuse for that. I fail again, I can’t even pretend that I deserve the attention being given my way. That’s my reality, Fenris. Rebuilding begins at the bottom, and the bottom of the steps to ascend to my throne need be the sturdiest.”
“No bones are sturdier than those of the wolf who will devour the sun. No bones more fitting than the one who will eat the chief god himself, and swallow him whole. None are more so deserving than the Wolf-Giant god himself, wouldn’t you say?”
The sound of a whip crack and more lanterns ignite. The room suddenly ignited in warm yellow glow of flames. Upon the pulpit, a candle sits upon a skull-like object. Elongated jaw, sharp teeth. A wolf skull.
“Iconography, it is important across most cultures. Symbolism is rampant in the icons of culture and faith. I enjoy obvious symbolism, Fenris. Pagan religion, being discussed in the house of god. Yet very satanic is the symbolism on display here. A wolf’s skull, lanterns and candles, the messenger of death emblazoned on glass, protecting the world the chaos around it. Symbolism, Fenris. Symbolism is my arena of safety. Yet in this symbolism there is more to be seen. There is more to be understood. There is more to know. My kingdom is not clear at first, but you will understand. If I need to run your own blood into your eyes, I will. If I need to break your neck, I will. If I need to hurt you, to appease, I will. Fenris, do you understand who I am? Do you understand, Alexander Raven? Are you listening to me? Are you following me? Are you understanding me?”
“I need you to understand me, Fenris. I need you to follow. I need you to listen to me. How in touch with your reality are you? I wonder. Many people think themselves the truth, and I understand that. Disconnected, yes. Many are disconnected from the truth of their own reality. Bleeding out slowly, and unaware. Blood, Fenris. How are you with blood? How are you with taking it? How are you with giving it? I wonder, Fenris. How ready to bleed for your cause are you truly? How ready to lose all you love, for the sake of your reality, are you? I ask only to know Fenris. I want to know, because I am aware of what I would give, for my reality to be different. To give my blood for the sake of anothers. To give my life, for the existence of another. Memory, Fenris. Memory.”
Alex struck a match, and ignited the candle that sat upon the wolf skull. Oversized skull. Lifting it, he raised it to sit upon his head, his head slipping inside it. Eyes looking through the eye sockets. The snout and jaws covering his nose. The candle flickering on top.
“Love soothed my once burning heart. Love soothed the anger, and satiated the lust. Love brought me down from my mountain, yet showed me happiness in my small shack next to the river. Being king, no longer mattered. Yet… she was a queen. She deserved a throne that I no longer wanted. She deserved a reality where the mountaintop was our home. A reality, where I could be the king without the blood. Without the violence. With word and wit, symbolism and manipulation. Words of power. She no longer exists in my world. No longer exists in any world. Yet I know. I know this deeply, that the river that bubbled beside our home. It will run red with the blood of those who stand between me and the dream we dreamed. The river, the snow and skies themselves will be painted crimson if I so deign it, for that is the reality I accept. That is the reality, I want. That is the reality of my world. Ascension to my throne and my reality is the only truth. My truth, the only truth. Do you understand, Fenris? Do you follow what I’m saying? I need you to understand, I need you to follow.”
“The second match of the night. Does it offend you, like it offends me, Fenris? The follow on to the powerful opener. The filler, the cooler. Mockery of my talent, and yours. Mockery. They mock us, Fenris. Making waves and impressing, yet not enough to be anything but the cheese of the sandwich. The ice in the bourbon. Necessary, usually. But without it, nothing is missed. Mockery, Fenris. Are you mocking me? I hope you are listening. I hope you are understanding. Do not mock me, Fenris. Do not mock me, like the world has mocked us. Words, Fenris. Words. Do you understand? Does the wolf understand that it will feed the birds? That the creatures that fly, will soon devour its collapsed body? Are you hungry, Fenris? Are you ready for the end? To swallow your own Odin? Or are you naught but that of your namesake? A myth. Mockery, Fenris. Your pure existence is a mockery. Death comes to all. Be it quick, or slow. Blood dictates the flow of it, and with the ebbing, comes the end. A river of red, bones and decay is all I need to ascend.”
“Reality, Fenris.”
“Reality is this. I will hurt any who attempt to bring me down again. I will hurt any who stand in my way. I will hurt any who try to slow my ascension. Messiah of the Broken, Leader of the Lost. My flock, my Conspiracy, my Murder. Whatever you wish to call it, will lap at the carrion I leave. For they know, that in my ascension comes their own. An uplifting of the broken. An uplifting of the lost. Guidance to a better reality. Rambling, I get it. I get that you probably are sick of listening. I get that the world is sick of the words. I’m sick of the words. I’m sick of hearing myself, but the truth is this. Nobody is listening. Nobody is understanding. Yet they still follow. They always follow. Symbolism, Fenris. Symbolism. Disconnection. Loss. Confusion. Reality. They are words for symbols, symbols I take heed in. Do you understand, Fenris? I hope you do. For I know what I’m saying will only make sense to those who listen. To those who follow. Will you follow, Fenris?”
The candle wax had begun to drip down the candle and onto the skull. Streaks of red wax standing raised again the off-white of the bone. Sliding down into the eyes. Drying on the edges and against the flesh beneath. Eyes focused. Alexander Raven, focused. A hand raised, the snap of fingers. All light doused bar that which lit the glass, and the candle flickering atop the skull. Glowing, and solitary. The raven wrapped around the mountain, and the skull of the wolf at its base.
“You, are my first step. My true, first step. Thank you, Fenris. For your blood and bones, will be perfect for my ascension.”
“Are you understanding, Fenris?”
The clap of his hands, the glass disappearing back into darkness. The single flickering flame dancing in the world of dark.
The sound of extinguishing.
Silence.
Darkness.
“Are you alone, like me?”
Nothing.