Bennie_tucker
12-27-2009, 04:08 PM
Okay so I'm going in at the deep end hear seeing as this is my first post but literally any feedback in any form will be appreciated. Originally this was for gcse english coursework but I liked it to the point that i refined it further. I'm thinking of adapting it into some sort of audio-visual script so any feedback relating that would be immense too. Also any new title seeing as I'm not too happy with this one. Thanks in advance. Ben
Judgement
Up.
Up.
Get up.
The man shot up.
Eyes Opened.
Light flickered.
Closed.
Down.
A dream, another dream, just another one of the dreams. The man raised a finger to his nose, scratch, scratch, scratch.
Blood, a glimpse of red in a world of white.
Slowly, Surely, Eyes open.
The white light penetrated , nothing was clear, a sea of confusion. What now, this is no dream. The man lay on the cold stone floor and thought, he thought back. What had led to this moment? The white light was slowly replaced by a darker hue, the blackness of before opened up consuming the man. The cold stone floor became a bed, springs dug in and he remembered. He remembered everything.
Vergel Otih Huth opened his eyes to another day. Another Sunday, awake at 9.30, with nothing to do. Emptiness, both physically and mentally, an empty room of mind and spirit, just the way he liked it. Vergel reached over to the table and pulled roughly on a glass of water. Clear and empty, just like his mind. He took a sip and stood up. Yawning he stumbled over and grabbed onto his daytime routine, clothed but still half asleep he staggered into the daylight and made his way to Tim Feng’s.
Just like every other day, Knock, Knock, Knock.
“Who is it?” the raspy tones of Tim echoed through the derelict back alleys, just daring to reach into the suburban dreams of the rest of the city.
“Vergel,” Vergel replied and once more he stepped into the derelict apartment of Tim.
“Wake up.”
Something was wrong, this was the not the voice of Tim.
“Wake up!” the clear mechanical voice came through again and Vergel opened his eyes once more to the clear white light. The voice was silenced. Tim shot up and sniffed at the air, clawing desperate for a clue to the where, why or when of his location. Suddenly it came into focus, he was in a box, blanched and snowy and looking around he realized he was not alone. In the room, the boxes, the prison, were 5 items. 5 unconnected items; a revolver, two barred windows, a single white note on the floor and a final, central hole, a pit, a gateway into oblivion. It was at this precise moment, the moment Charlotte Holden was eating dinner; at this moment that Robert Dalton was mowing the lawn, at this precise second that Vergel remembered again: clarity once more.
The white icy crystals shot up through Vergel’s proboscis, his mind awoke, and the clarity of before became a whirl of confusion. East was black and west was white. Up became across and down didn’t even meter into this eclectic formula.
“That’s good crackajack!" Tim screamed, every syllable cutting through- piercing- his perception of reality. Once more he stumbled into the darkness of the city.
“Ahh!” Vergel exclaimed, confusion become clarity and the whiteness resumed. He stumbled forward and fell, fell forward, seemingly forever, and hit. The floor was ice cold, but this is not what caught Vergel's attention. It was the note that glinted against the blanche coffin Vergel was in. He crawled forward and grasped onto the corner tearing it slightly. Sluggishly and deadly in time, as if in a funeral march, he ripped the red seal from off the note. Wait, red, why red? He touched the seal, and saw to his horror that this was no wax contrivance. This was blood, another drop dripped onto the crisp paper and the realization hit him. The source was his nose and as he turned, finally starting to regain control of his senses, he noticed a thin crimson trail of hemoglobin. He spun back, back to the task in hand and slowly began to tear open the edge of the note.
Streets a whir and senses ablaze Vergel ran, he ran free, free like the wind, but bound by the powder, and chanced upon a man. Coming face to face with him for the first time he inhaled and struck. Hit after hit after hit. The man fell. Vergel ran, he ran again, laughing, desperation inherent in every breath. This is how Vergel met Cameron. Cameron liked fast cars, Cameron likes women but most of all Cameron like sugar. They didn’t speak, their silence said more than a thousand words and Cameron beckoned. Cameron beckoned and Vergel followed, like a lamb to the slaughter. He got in the car, the red car, and drove, drove fast, drove faster than the speed of clarity.
White.
He spun back, back to the task in hand and slowly began to tear open the edge of the note, peeling the fresh paper open he read, his heart beating fast, its red unsettled in this world of white.
Welcome to judgment®.
To further explain your situation, please picture the catholic idea of purgatory©. It’s basically that, except for a newer and more “techno savvy” age. The basic premise is simple, when you are ready you make the step into the pit that, as you may have noticed, is black (the original white pit caused many an accident and time wasted is time wasted). Once you make this step you will appear at one of the two rather picturesque scenes painted on the windows over there. It really is that simple. Hope you enjoy.
Xxx
To describe Vergel’s initial reaction in one word is simple. It was one of bewilderment. Bewilderment, confusion, befuddlement, disorientation, perplexity and dumbfoundation. Closely followed by feelings of agitation, frustration, anger and more perplexity. He did not know what this person meant, why he (or she) wrote with insufferable xs or what on earth judgment was. But curiosity is man’s greatest weakness and he was nonetheless compelled to look at the aforementioned windows. He walked over and gazed into the first and was met by a sight even more confusing than the letter. It was what one would describe as the picturesque view of Heaven, complete with bunnies, light and fun frolics. What confused him most however was that he was in this picture, holding his thumbs up and smiling. Curiouser and curiouser, Vergel exclaimed to his head comparing his experience to that of Alice’s. A neat sidestep to the right took Vergel to another equally bewildering sight. Like before this was a stereotypical view, this time of hell, and once more he was there, this time thumbs down and frowning. Now bear in mind that Vergel is impetuous, and this impetuousness leads to rash decision and it appears Vergel is just about to make one. For as I write this word and break this precious narrative so does Vergel break his chain of thought and steps once more into black, this time manifested in a physical form. Down the rabbit hole he fell and prepared to be judged.
120mph in a red sports car always feels good, but it feels better when you’re soaring as high as a kite, and even better if you’re soaring higher than it. And it’s this feeling of nonchalance which Vergel felt as he stormed down the road, wind cutting through his hair like a dagger. Cameron was next to him attempting to simultaneously “rave” to the sound of High Contrast, light up another excuse to get baked and change his sunglasses. Nothing could stop this elation, well not until the inevitable coked up come down. However, something did stop this rush, a small body barely 6 years young. A thud on the bonnet. A screech of brakes. One hell of a coked up come down.
Vergel woke up. He woke up but this time he was ready, enough of this charade he thought to himself. He opened his eyes ready to be greeted by whichever fate awaited him. But instead his eyes were met by a different sight. The sight of white.
Confusion hit once again and seeing no further note or instruction Vergel ran and leaped once more into the confusin that awaited him.
Once more he awoke to white and frustration started to hit him. He jumped into the pit and awoke. Jumped into the pit. Awoke to white. Jumped, Awoke, Jumped, Awoke, broke down. And at this moment Vergel cried, he had not cried in 12 years, not since his dad had died, not since his brother had been murdered, not since he was expelled from school and in this moment of dissilusion with the world Vergel made another rash decision and realized why the gun was there, as a reminder that he was beyond redemption. Time to end this he thought realizing that this box was some Government rehabilitation crap. Bang.
Once more Vergel awoke to white, the sum of his irritation, confusion and anger boiling into one single action, the picking up of a second letter, once more unsealing it and finally bringing himself to read it.
Your judgment® is finished,
Firstly I’m shocked that you think this is “government rehabilitation crap” (that’s right, we know what you’re thinking ). In an attempt to revamp our image we’ve decided that physical pain is to “sameish” and therefore are trying a more mental technique. All this time you thought you were being judged but your judgment came from all those years of abuse to your brain. Welcome to Hell, hope you enjoy.
Xxx
Judgement
Up.
Up.
Get up.
The man shot up.
Eyes Opened.
Light flickered.
Closed.
Down.
A dream, another dream, just another one of the dreams. The man raised a finger to his nose, scratch, scratch, scratch.
Blood, a glimpse of red in a world of white.
Slowly, Surely, Eyes open.
The white light penetrated , nothing was clear, a sea of confusion. What now, this is no dream. The man lay on the cold stone floor and thought, he thought back. What had led to this moment? The white light was slowly replaced by a darker hue, the blackness of before opened up consuming the man. The cold stone floor became a bed, springs dug in and he remembered. He remembered everything.
Vergel Otih Huth opened his eyes to another day. Another Sunday, awake at 9.30, with nothing to do. Emptiness, both physically and mentally, an empty room of mind and spirit, just the way he liked it. Vergel reached over to the table and pulled roughly on a glass of water. Clear and empty, just like his mind. He took a sip and stood up. Yawning he stumbled over and grabbed onto his daytime routine, clothed but still half asleep he staggered into the daylight and made his way to Tim Feng’s.
Just like every other day, Knock, Knock, Knock.
“Who is it?” the raspy tones of Tim echoed through the derelict back alleys, just daring to reach into the suburban dreams of the rest of the city.
“Vergel,” Vergel replied and once more he stepped into the derelict apartment of Tim.
“Wake up.”
Something was wrong, this was the not the voice of Tim.
“Wake up!” the clear mechanical voice came through again and Vergel opened his eyes once more to the clear white light. The voice was silenced. Tim shot up and sniffed at the air, clawing desperate for a clue to the where, why or when of his location. Suddenly it came into focus, he was in a box, blanched and snowy and looking around he realized he was not alone. In the room, the boxes, the prison, were 5 items. 5 unconnected items; a revolver, two barred windows, a single white note on the floor and a final, central hole, a pit, a gateway into oblivion. It was at this precise moment, the moment Charlotte Holden was eating dinner; at this moment that Robert Dalton was mowing the lawn, at this precise second that Vergel remembered again: clarity once more.
The white icy crystals shot up through Vergel’s proboscis, his mind awoke, and the clarity of before became a whirl of confusion. East was black and west was white. Up became across and down didn’t even meter into this eclectic formula.
“That’s good crackajack!" Tim screamed, every syllable cutting through- piercing- his perception of reality. Once more he stumbled into the darkness of the city.
“Ahh!” Vergel exclaimed, confusion become clarity and the whiteness resumed. He stumbled forward and fell, fell forward, seemingly forever, and hit. The floor was ice cold, but this is not what caught Vergel's attention. It was the note that glinted against the blanche coffin Vergel was in. He crawled forward and grasped onto the corner tearing it slightly. Sluggishly and deadly in time, as if in a funeral march, he ripped the red seal from off the note. Wait, red, why red? He touched the seal, and saw to his horror that this was no wax contrivance. This was blood, another drop dripped onto the crisp paper and the realization hit him. The source was his nose and as he turned, finally starting to regain control of his senses, he noticed a thin crimson trail of hemoglobin. He spun back, back to the task in hand and slowly began to tear open the edge of the note.
Streets a whir and senses ablaze Vergel ran, he ran free, free like the wind, but bound by the powder, and chanced upon a man. Coming face to face with him for the first time he inhaled and struck. Hit after hit after hit. The man fell. Vergel ran, he ran again, laughing, desperation inherent in every breath. This is how Vergel met Cameron. Cameron liked fast cars, Cameron likes women but most of all Cameron like sugar. They didn’t speak, their silence said more than a thousand words and Cameron beckoned. Cameron beckoned and Vergel followed, like a lamb to the slaughter. He got in the car, the red car, and drove, drove fast, drove faster than the speed of clarity.
White.
He spun back, back to the task in hand and slowly began to tear open the edge of the note, peeling the fresh paper open he read, his heart beating fast, its red unsettled in this world of white.
Welcome to judgment®.
To further explain your situation, please picture the catholic idea of purgatory©. It’s basically that, except for a newer and more “techno savvy” age. The basic premise is simple, when you are ready you make the step into the pit that, as you may have noticed, is black (the original white pit caused many an accident and time wasted is time wasted). Once you make this step you will appear at one of the two rather picturesque scenes painted on the windows over there. It really is that simple. Hope you enjoy.
Xxx
To describe Vergel’s initial reaction in one word is simple. It was one of bewilderment. Bewilderment, confusion, befuddlement, disorientation, perplexity and dumbfoundation. Closely followed by feelings of agitation, frustration, anger and more perplexity. He did not know what this person meant, why he (or she) wrote with insufferable xs or what on earth judgment was. But curiosity is man’s greatest weakness and he was nonetheless compelled to look at the aforementioned windows. He walked over and gazed into the first and was met by a sight even more confusing than the letter. It was what one would describe as the picturesque view of Heaven, complete with bunnies, light and fun frolics. What confused him most however was that he was in this picture, holding his thumbs up and smiling. Curiouser and curiouser, Vergel exclaimed to his head comparing his experience to that of Alice’s. A neat sidestep to the right took Vergel to another equally bewildering sight. Like before this was a stereotypical view, this time of hell, and once more he was there, this time thumbs down and frowning. Now bear in mind that Vergel is impetuous, and this impetuousness leads to rash decision and it appears Vergel is just about to make one. For as I write this word and break this precious narrative so does Vergel break his chain of thought and steps once more into black, this time manifested in a physical form. Down the rabbit hole he fell and prepared to be judged.
120mph in a red sports car always feels good, but it feels better when you’re soaring as high as a kite, and even better if you’re soaring higher than it. And it’s this feeling of nonchalance which Vergel felt as he stormed down the road, wind cutting through his hair like a dagger. Cameron was next to him attempting to simultaneously “rave” to the sound of High Contrast, light up another excuse to get baked and change his sunglasses. Nothing could stop this elation, well not until the inevitable coked up come down. However, something did stop this rush, a small body barely 6 years young. A thud on the bonnet. A screech of brakes. One hell of a coked up come down.
Vergel woke up. He woke up but this time he was ready, enough of this charade he thought to himself. He opened his eyes ready to be greeted by whichever fate awaited him. But instead his eyes were met by a different sight. The sight of white.
Confusion hit once again and seeing no further note or instruction Vergel ran and leaped once more into the confusin that awaited him.
Once more he awoke to white and frustration started to hit him. He jumped into the pit and awoke. Jumped into the pit. Awoke to white. Jumped, Awoke, Jumped, Awoke, broke down. And at this moment Vergel cried, he had not cried in 12 years, not since his dad had died, not since his brother had been murdered, not since he was expelled from school and in this moment of dissilusion with the world Vergel made another rash decision and realized why the gun was there, as a reminder that he was beyond redemption. Time to end this he thought realizing that this box was some Government rehabilitation crap. Bang.
Once more Vergel awoke to white, the sum of his irritation, confusion and anger boiling into one single action, the picking up of a second letter, once more unsealing it and finally bringing himself to read it.
Your judgment® is finished,
Firstly I’m shocked that you think this is “government rehabilitation crap” (that’s right, we know what you’re thinking ). In an attempt to revamp our image we’ve decided that physical pain is to “sameish” and therefore are trying a more mental technique. All this time you thought you were being judged but your judgment came from all those years of abuse to your brain. Welcome to Hell, hope you enjoy.
Xxx