Post by Brad Windsor on Apr 24, 2012 18:20:55 GMT -5
The scene opens upon a black background highlighting the presence of a wooden chair underneath a swinging lamp above. The light from the lamp shines directly down over the seat. A cascade of shadows dance around the wooden legs of the chair, each of them appearing at the whim of the lamp’s delicate swings. The theme of these abstract phantoms is the stooped silhouette sitting on the chair. The bowed head, the curtain of long moist hair, they both are veiling the identity of this… man. His cracked voice, barely above a whisper breaks the silence.
“They all say a man is not to be feared.”
A stretch of solemn peace follows the man’s words.
“They all say a man can be defeated. A man can be beaten. With enough force… they all agree that a man, as powerful as he might be, can be overcome like any other sort of obstacle. They are all unanimously together on this… one… simple… fact.”
A swift blow of wind hits the lamp, sending it into a flurry. The knock breaks it into a spasm of flickers. Eventually however, the flickering light recovers at the expense of a continuous humming noise.
“But-”
There is a loud popping explosion, followed by a shower of tiny bits of glass raining on stone. Abruptly the room falls into complete darkness.
“But I have faced him. He is no mere man. He is no mere man at all. He is like… he is like an entity… an unstoppable source of energy. Nothing can resist him. Nothing can outwit his intelligence. He knows. He knows the counters to the many counters of all the counters that counter any of the counters known to man. I have seen it and I fear.”
The light comes back on in full force. The man’s head comes up, his eyes bloodshot red. There is a scar running the span of his face, diagonally, from above his right eyebrow to underneath his left cheek bone.
“Be warned. Be warned for he is coming. Be warned for he is no mere man. Be warned for his name is-”
The scene is cut off and replaced instantly with the smug face of a well-known English aristocrat. A sloppy sound is followed by the intrusion of a blond haired beauty blocking a portion of the man’s features, by coming into the scene from down below.
SLAP
The chick’s head is snapped out of the camera shot’s view through the eastern direction, once again fully displaying the snobbish smile.
“The ‘Beauchamp’ you poxy pillocks.”
*End*
“They all say a man is not to be feared.”
A stretch of solemn peace follows the man’s words.
“They all say a man can be defeated. A man can be beaten. With enough force… they all agree that a man, as powerful as he might be, can be overcome like any other sort of obstacle. They are all unanimously together on this… one… simple… fact.”
A swift blow of wind hits the lamp, sending it into a flurry. The knock breaks it into a spasm of flickers. Eventually however, the flickering light recovers at the expense of a continuous humming noise.
“But-”
There is a loud popping explosion, followed by a shower of tiny bits of glass raining on stone. Abruptly the room falls into complete darkness.
“But I have faced him. He is no mere man. He is no mere man at all. He is like… he is like an entity… an unstoppable source of energy. Nothing can resist him. Nothing can outwit his intelligence. He knows. He knows the counters to the many counters of all the counters that counter any of the counters known to man. I have seen it and I fear.”
The light comes back on in full force. The man’s head comes up, his eyes bloodshot red. There is a scar running the span of his face, diagonally, from above his right eyebrow to underneath his left cheek bone.
“Be warned. Be warned for he is coming. Be warned for he is no mere man. Be warned for his name is-”
The scene is cut off and replaced instantly with the smug face of a well-known English aristocrat. A sloppy sound is followed by the intrusion of a blond haired beauty blocking a portion of the man’s features, by coming into the scene from down below.
SLAP
The chick’s head is snapped out of the camera shot’s view through the eastern direction, once again fully displaying the snobbish smile.
“The ‘Beauchamp’ you poxy pillocks.”
*End*
