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Musings of spontaneous creation

Poetry 

Extended Metaphors

 

I watched the pig devour his salad

Grinding the tomato bits into his infantine trap.

Round, red cheeks huffing and puffing again and again

Like practically a nonstop machine.

 

After that, the drink of water followed.

Oh my, the water!

He made it look so that an entire river was swallowed

I imagined the swimmers

Screaming and begging for their lives as they were pushed into

the gorge of his gullet.

 

And then, with a single burp,

I blinked as his spectacle came to an end.

Digging into a bowl of baby mush,

I raised the spoon to my little brother’s mouth.

Within a few minutes this giggling child…

Would once again transform into a heartless, hungry

creature.

 

Oh boy, I can’t wait!


Poetry 

The curse of customer service

 

This isn’t a rant

But I am in a tent

I am away from city life

Trying to limit all the strife

 

Worst things are happening

But right now I’m the one crumbling

Believe it or not my reasons are clear

My workplace is something that I can no longer bear.

 

If one says that this place is dirty,

the following man behind him will add that its filthy.

Hell even the hobo’s creepy and rude

I could swear the ugly had a thing for me.

 

Lines the length of anacondas

All of them becoming fattening pirahnas.

Ironic that we need you all

Because the lack of you would be our downfall.

 

Burgers, fries and drinks…

All in excess is dangerous, methinks.

If you do take it all once in a bit

You would have less fits.

 

If you said that your burger’s plain and that’s what I heard,

don’t you come to complain or else I’ll call you a turd.

When we say that we want you to come back soon,

What we’re really waiting for is for pigs to jump over the moon.


I shall post here again soon 

Thank you for following me! :)


Words extend the Mind.: Creative Writing for Dummies 

wonderwhatyouwill:

Before You Begin Your Creative Writing

Always be prepared! Here’s a checklist of useful writing aids to have with you as you begin to write – just don’t forget the chocolate biscuits.

  • A good notebook
  • A decent pen
  • Plenty of paper
  • A computer or laptop
  • A desk or other writing space
  • A…


wonderwhatyouwill: Bad Creative Writing Advice The Internet is full of bad advice for creative writers. Here’s just a small sampling of the nonsense you can find if you look for it. “Show, don’t tell.” News flash: writing is telling. It’s a completely linguistic art form. There’s no showing involved, unless you’re writing illustrated books like Dr. Seuss or graphic novels like Neil Gaiman. The real distinction to be made here is between writing descriptive language (e.g. when your character is drinking whiskey from a canteen around a campfire) and dynamic language (e.g. when your character is fleeing from rampaging cannibals through the underbrush). Both forms have their time and place. “Stay away from synonyms for the word said.” This is just plain creative fascism. People don’t just say things, sometimes they exclaim, declare, thunder, growl, rage, ejaculate, expostulate, or enumerate. A novel is not a play. There are no actors to give expression to your dialogue, so it’s your job as the author to describe your character’s emotional state when speaking her lines. “Simplify your language.” Many people these days mistake novels for Hollywood screenplays. Hollywood screenplays are very much concerned with plot and keeping an audience’s attention. Screenplay writers like to condense things down to the smallest nugget possible to keep the film’s running time to a profitable 90 minutes rather than a money-losing 180. If you’re a novelist, you’ve got plenty of room to play with. Stretch out, relax, take your time, don’t rush things for someone else’s arbitrary notion of pacing. “Don’t be too wordy.” Telling a writer that she’s using too many words is like telling an artist she’s using too much paint. “Don’t use words in your writing that people don’t use in real life.” While it’s true that you shouldn’t pull out a thesaurus any old time and start plugging in multisyllabic words just for the hell of it, it’s pointless to confine yourself to the small subset of the English language that’s used in conversation. Novels are a stylized art form that aren’t necessarily supposed to reflect real life. They’re meant to be read, not spoken. “Don’t be pretentious.” Writing is pretentious. Fiction writing doubly so. In fact, one of the definitions of the word pretense (according to my MS Encarta) is “make-believe or things imagined.” If you don’t believe that your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t care to read them. If you don’t act like your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t give any significance to them. (You should, however, recognize when seriousness about your work gives way to smugness or condescension.) “Read your writing aloud.” I will admit that this tip can be helpful in many situations, especially when writing dialogue. But once again, remember that a novel is not a film. It’s not a radio play or a speech (or a blog post, for that matter). Some of our best living prose stylists (Richard Powers, Thomas Pynchon, Philip Roth) write in sentences that are difficult to read aloud. Take the first sentence of Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, one of the twentieth century’s great novels: “One summer afternoon, Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.”) “Use the active voice instead of the passive voice.” Okay, this one is actually probably true. (Passive voice: “It was decided by the Democrats that John Kerry would be the nominee for President.” Active voice: “The Democrats nominated Howard Dean for President instead.”) The ironic thing about most of these specious writing tips is that they work quite well for straightforward journalism. When you’re writing a piece of hard news, for instance, the object is much different: take the writer out of the picture, bleach out any hint of bias or subjectivity, work in an inverted pyramid structure so your editor can start chopping column inches from the bottom without giving it too much thought. But when you’re writing fiction, the ground rules are different. Name me a novelist who writes without a hint of bias or subjectivity, and I’ll name you an unread novelist. The same probably goes for bloggers, too. - David Louis Edelman wonderwhatyouwill: Bad Creative Writing Advice The Internet is full of bad advice for creative writers. Here’s just a small sampling of the nonsense you can find if you look for it. “Show, don’t tell.” News flash: writing is telling. It’s a completely linguistic art form. There’s no showing involved, unless you’re writing illustrated books like Dr. Seuss or graphic novels like Neil Gaiman. The real distinction to be made here is between writing descriptive language (e.g. when your character is drinking whiskey from a canteen around a campfire) and dynamic language (e.g. when your character is fleeing from rampaging cannibals through the underbrush). Both forms have their time and place. “Stay away from synonyms for the word said.” This is just plain creative fascism. People don’t just say things, sometimes they exclaim, declare, thunder, growl, rage, ejaculate, expostulate, or enumerate. A novel is not a play. There are no actors to give expression to your dialogue, so it’s your job as the author to describe your character’s emotional state when speaking her lines. “Simplify your language.” Many people these days mistake novels for Hollywood screenplays. Hollywood screenplays are very much concerned with plot and keeping an audience’s attention. Screenplay writers like to condense things down to the smallest nugget possible to keep the film’s running time to a profitable 90 minutes rather than a money-losing 180. If you’re a novelist, you’ve got plenty of room to play with. Stretch out, relax, take your time, don’t rush things for someone else’s arbitrary notion of pacing. “Don’t be too wordy.” Telling a writer that she’s using too many words is like telling an artist she’s using too much paint. “Don’t use words in your writing that people don’t use in real life.” While it’s true that you shouldn’t pull out a thesaurus any old time and start plugging in multisyllabic words just for the hell of it, it’s pointless to confine yourself to the small subset of the English language that’s used in conversation. Novels are a stylized art form that aren’t necessarily supposed to reflect real life. They’re meant to be read, not spoken. “Don’t be pretentious.” Writing is pretentious. Fiction writing doubly so. In fact, one of the definitions of the word pretense (according to my MS Encarta) is “make-believe or things imagined.” If you don’t believe that your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t care to read them. If you don’t act like your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t give any significance to them. (You should, however, recognize when seriousness about your work gives way to smugness or condescension.) “Read your writing aloud.” I will admit that this tip can be helpful in many situations, especially when writing dialogue. But once again, remember that a novel is not a film. It’s not a radio play or a speech (or a blog post, for that matter). Some of our best living prose stylists (Richard Powers, Thomas Pynchon, Philip Roth) write in sentences that are difficult to read aloud. Take the first sentence of Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, one of the twentieth century’s great novels: “One summer afternoon, Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.”) “Use the active voice instead of the passive voice.” Okay, this one is actually probably true. (Passive voice: “It was decided by the Democrats that John Kerry would be the nominee for President.” Active voice: “The Democrats nominated Howard Dean for President instead.”) The ironic thing about most of these specious writing tips is that they work quite well for straightforward journalism. When you’re writing a piece of hard news, for instance, the object is much different: take the writer out of the picture, bleach out any hint of bias or subjectivity, work in an inverted pyramid structure so your editor can start chopping column inches from the bottom without giving it too much thought. But when you’re writing fiction, the ground rules are different. Name me a novelist who writes without a hint of bias or subjectivity, and I’ll name you an unread novelist. The same probably goes for bloggers, too. - David Louis Edelman

wonderwhatyouwill:

Bad Creative Writing Advice

The Internet is full of bad advice for creative writers. Here’s just a small sampling of the nonsense you can find if you look for it.

  • “Show, don’t tell.” News flash: writing is telling. It’s a completely linguistic art form. There’s no showing involved, unless you’re writing illustrated books like Dr. Seuss or graphic novels like Neil Gaiman. The real distinction to be made here is between writing descriptive language (e.g. when your character is drinking whiskey from a canteen around a campfire) and dynamic language (e.g. when your character is fleeing from rampaging cannibals through the underbrush). Both forms have their time and place.
  • “Stay away from synonyms for the word said.” This is just plain creative fascism. People don’t just say things, sometimes they exclaim, declare, thunder, growl, rage, ejaculate, expostulate, or enumerate. A novel is not a play. There are no actors to give expression to your dialogue, so it’s your job as the author to describe your character’s emotional state when speaking her lines.
  • “Simplify your language.” Many people these days mistake novels for Hollywood screenplays. Hollywood screenplays are very much concerned with plot and keeping an audience’s attention. Screenplay writers like to condense things down to the smallest nugget possible to keep the film’s running time to a profitable 90 minutes rather than a money-losing 180. If you’re a novelist, you’ve got plenty of room to play with. Stretch out, relax, take your time, don’t rush things for someone else’s arbitrary notion of pacing.
  • “Don’t be too wordy.” Telling a writer that she’s using too many words is like telling an artist she’s using too much paint.
  • “Don’t use words in your writing that people don’t use in real life.” While it’s true that you shouldn’t pull out a thesaurus any old time and start plugging in multisyllabic words just for the hell of it, it’s pointless to confine yourself to the small subset of the English language that’s used in conversation. Novels are a stylized art form that aren’t necessarily supposed to reflect real life. They’re meant to be read, not spoken.
  • “Don’t be pretentious.” Writing is pretentious. Fiction writing doubly so. In fact, one of the definitions of the word pretense (according to my MS Encarta) is “make-believe or things imagined.” If you don’t believe that your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t care to read them. If you don’t act like your imaginings are of great import to the world, then we won’t give any significance to them. (You should, however, recognize when seriousness about your work gives way to smugness or condescension.)
  • “Read your writing aloud.” I will admit that this tip can be helpful in many situations, especially when writing dialogue. But once again, remember that a novel is not a film. It’s not a radio play or a speech (or a blog post, for that matter). Some of our best living prose stylists (Richard Powers, Thomas Pynchon, Philip Roth) write in sentences that are difficult to read aloud. Take the first sentence of Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, one of the twentieth century’s great novels: “One summer afternoon, Mrs. Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.”)
  • “Use the active voice instead of the passive voice.” Okay, this one is actually probably true. (Passive voice: “It was decided by the Democrats that John Kerry would be the nominee for President.” Active voice: “The Democrats nominated Howard Dean for President instead.”)

The ironic thing about most of these specious writing tips is that they work quite well for straightforward journalism. When you’re writing a piece of hard news, for instance, the object is much different: take the writer out of the picture, bleach out any hint of bias or subjectivity, work in an inverted pyramid structure so your editor can start chopping column inches from the bottom without giving it too much thought.

But when you’re writing fiction, the ground rules are different. Name me a novelist who writes without a hint of bias or subjectivity, and I’ll name you an unread novelist.

The same probably goes for bloggers, too.

- David Louis Edelman


wherelightexists: i… didn’t know i shipped it.until i did.  “Jenna, come ere!” I yelled, grinning as the tall blonde came to my side. “Whatcha doing, Hannah?’ She giggled. “Say hi to all the hartosexuals?” I asked, pointing at the webcam. Peering at me, she grinned as I kissed her cheek sloppily. “Hiya Hartosexuals!” She replied, returning my glance with a wink. ((Boo yah.))wherelightexists: i… didn’t know i shipped it.until i did.  “Jenna, come ere!” I yelled, grinning as the tall blonde came to my side. “Whatcha doing, Hannah?’ She giggled. “Say hi to all the hartosexuals?” I asked, pointing at the webcam. Peering at me, she grinned as I kissed her cheek sloppily. “Hiya Hartosexuals!” She replied, returning my glance with a wink. ((Boo yah.))

wherelightexists:

i… didn’t know i shipped it.
until i did. 

“Jenna, come ere!” I yelled, grinning as the tall blonde came to my side. “Whatcha doing, Hannah?’ She giggled. “Say hi to all the hartosexuals?” I asked, pointing at the webcam. Peering at me, she grinned as I kissed her cheek sloppily. “Hiya Hartosexuals!” She replied, returning my glance with a wink.

((Boo yah.))


◀
#poetry

Poetry 

The Greatest Lie I ever told

 

 

I hate to remember it so well

It’s something that I’d rather not tell.

That day was quite terrible for me,

But I knew that it had to be.

It was a day like any other

You’d never think something was the matter.

But things had to be done,

And I had to give you some freedom.

 

In the afternoon of that dreadful day,

You and I met at the beach on English Bay.

As I mustered to tell you my thoughts,

Your expression became tied in knots.

By the time I finished many tears had been shed,

And I was left alone, looking away as you fled.

 

I know that you wanted to give it another try,

And you can usually take much more before you break down to cry.

But I had to tell you what I thought to be the truth,

And you would normally have to think of me as a brute.

 

But now, in my remaining years,

I realize my errors and my fears.

By chance though I found you once more,

And I can use the last of my life to repair what I tore.

I was happy to see you smiling and then astonished,

As I suddenly confessed and felt all my sins released and vanished.

 

And thanks to the powers that be,

We can relish in being free,

Being one whole together, just you and me.

 

The greatest lie I ever told,

was when I never had the chance to be bold.

What will I forever now do?

Tell you each and every time that I love you.

 

 

.

 

 

 


Script dialogue 3 

 “I’m the one, the only, the King…of Everything!”
   A dialogue by Suzanne Helen James

Characters:
.King Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau, Heir of Trudgar
.His assistant, Dymus the squire
.His honorable knight, Sir Armani Prada Helfer


(Scene opens with the king Cavalan and his squire, Dymus, on a horse. Cavalan is wearing a large, shiny new crown and he’s holding a nice, large golden staff.)

Cavalan- “Well, goodie! I, the new King of Everything, shall now begin my reign!”

Dymus- “ALL HAIL HIS HIGHNESS! HE SHALL NOW BEGIN HIS REIGN!”

Cavalan- “All the peasants in the land shall now bow down before me!”

Dymus- “Ya hear that, all ya peasants in the land? You’ll be bowin’ down before your king!”

Cavalan- “And all you nobles, you other kings and you other queens…you will all bow down and proud to me, your new King…of Everything!”

Dymus- “That’s right, nobles! You too, will bow down and proud to your King..of everything! Bow down and proud!”

Cavalan- “…Ooh! Your new King has just found other beings to reign over! He is of course, the one…the only…the King Cavalan Edmond Duveau…of Trudgar!”

Dymus- “Ya hear that? That’s right! You mindless, insignificant and miniscule other beings! Rejoice for your newfound freedom within the reign of his highness, the one, the only the King Cavalan Edmond Duveau…of Trudgar!”

Cavalan- “Why Dymus! What beautiful and tyrannic speech-making! Your newly appointed King Cavalan is quite pleased! He is so happy with your performance…that he shall give you a reward! Dymus, lend your king your brain, for he would like to think of a reward for you!”

Dymus- “Well…all the reward I need is your words o blessings an’ nothin’ more! Nothin’ more shall be said now…though what’s this? Your new king is bein’ approached! Whoever ya are…would ya halt for the new King…of Everything!”

Cavalan- “Ahhh…yes, how can I forget? Little ants…little bugs…little grass…and little trees! Your newly appointed King of Everything has now stopped his horse trek! Swift execution shall be dealt to you if you fail to comply to my demands! And as your new King Cavalan Edmond Duveau of Trudgar, I demand utter obedience! Is that clear, my dear trees, my dear grass, my dear bugs and my dear ants?”

Dymus- “Ya hear that, ya fugly trees? Ya hear that, ya bucklin ants? Ya movin bugs? Your newly appointed King shall kill ya swiftly if you ain’t obeyin’ him!”


(The intruder in question is actually Cavalan’s most loyal knight, Sir Armani Prada Helfer. Unfortunately, he brings to the gloating King bad news…he’ll try to, anyway.)

Armani- “My lord!”

Cavalan- “Oh Dymus, look! My knight in shining armor, my beloved Armani, has come to watch me reign! Look, look, look! See how I have the trees, the bugs, the ants and even the grass at my feet and under my rule? Do tell him, Dymus! I know he wants to know…don’t you, Armani dear?”

Armani- “Ah! But sir…”

Cavalan- “Ah, ah, ahh! My Armani is now adressing his new King, who now has control over everything! And as ruler of everything, his highness requests that Armani close his pretty mouth and watch Dymus as he telsl you how I am the King of Everything!”

Armani- “But, sir…that’s just it.”

Cavalan- “Hmm…What’s this? I hear distress in Armani’s voice! Is this puberty rearing its ugly, pubic head or…perhaps, is it a midlife crisis? Either way, I, your King Cavalan, shall destroy it! After all, I am King of, well…Everything! I am master of every single thing I survey, am I not? Yes, I am.”

Armani- “…Well, your highness…this title of “King of Everything” isn’t…it isn’t exactly true anymore.”

Cavalan- “GASP! Dymus, your King gasps! Capture my escaping breaths! H-How can your beloved King Cavalan Edmond Ernesto Duveau…be no longer your King of Everything?”

Armani- “Well…first off, you reign over this land yes?”

Cavalan- “Why, Armani! Of course I reign over this land, for I reign over everything!”

Armani- “Well…do you reign over the Ocean?”

Cavalan- “GASP! Why, Armani! Of course your king reigns over the Ocean! Do you hear me, Ocean? Your King, Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau of Trudgar rules you!”

Dymus- “You hear that blue, blubbering Ocean? Your new king rules you! His highness
Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau rules over ya!”

Armani- (sigh) “I’m sorry, but your highness doesn’t reign over the Ocean.”

Cavalan- “W-what? Oh no! Dymus, your King gasps again! Catch his breath! Dymus, tell me that Armani dearest is lying to me! But I am your King of Everything! How can everything NOT be the Ocean too?”

Armani- “…Well, everything here, sir. That’s what I meant to tell you. I was going to say that you, your highness Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau, heir of Trudgar, have sole property…over this land…which…isn’t actually everything.”

Dymus- “Why how can you say that, knight Armani? We all are property of the King! Over land, air and sea of the world!”

Armani- “Oh but Dymus, you knew this too! Don’t deny it now of all times!”

(As the clueless King is shocked at the new development, Dymus is spared for now. Heck, Cavalan doesn’t seem to realize that his own righthand man knows something he doesn’t. Either way…What does this mean?)

Cavalan- “W-w-what? Ohhh no! Your King gasps! Again! How can it be that…Your…king…is…NOT…the king…of…everything?”

Armani- “I’m afraid not, your highness. You are not the king of the Ocean, which is infinite…nor are you the King of our neighbours the Grahams, who are invading as of this moment…and whether you’d like to believe it or not, you are NOT the king of the peasants; for you no longer have any peasants to rule over. They were either slaughtered or they ran off when your family had taken over the land.”

Cavalan- “…Oh…your king blinks. Dymus?”

Dymus- “Yes, your highness?”

Cavalan- “Do I rule over the lakes on this island?”

Dymus- “Yes…you rule over the lakes on this island, your majesty.”

Cavalan- “Dymus, do I rule over the deserted and pillaged villages that remain?”

Dymus- “Yes, your majesty rules over the deserted and pillaged villages that remain…on this island.”

Cavalan- “…Dymus…the Grahams are on my land now, aren’t they?”

Dymus- “…I do say that I believe so, sir.”

Cavalan- “Then goodie gumdrops! Let the good times spread! Let all the trees hear it! Let all the birds hear it! Let all the maimed, bleeding, dying villagers hear it!

Armani- “But, your highness…”

Cavalan- “You know what? Let the bloodthirsty, guileless, ravaging Grahams who have set foot on this island, they who have only thoughts of killing in mind…let THEM hear it! After all, they cannot invade my territory, for I rule over everything!”

Dymus- “At your request, your highness!”

Armani- “Oh my goodness! I should get flee- I mean, hurrying! I will task myself of spreading the good news! Goodbye, your majesty! I now take my leave! (under breath) Before I get killed…off to greener pastures..and safety.”

Cavalan- “Oh, oh, ohhh! Look at that! My knight serves me well! Run, run, run, My beloved Armani! Tell the good news! Oh go and tell them, tell them, tell them! Tell them that I, your new King Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau, heir of Trudgar, rules you all! He rules over the trees! He rules over the birds! He rules over you bones on the ground! He…Ow! Your king…he bleeds! He gasps…”

(As the last scene comes to a close, Cavalan is stabbed and falls on the ground without much of another word. A shocked Dymus watches from nearby as he is also stabbed without warning…but not without parting words.)

Dymus- “Awright, then! All of ya, listen to his highness! He is now your appointed ruler, heir of Trudgar and King o the bloody free world! His royal monarch Cavalan Ernesto Edmond Duveau rules over the trees! He rules over the birds! He rules over the arrows flyin’ in the air! He rules over the soil, the grass…(he gets hit by an arrow) H-ha! Oh no, your highness falls! He falls on his earth! Your highness will forever rule over the blood…the arrow piercing his heart…and yeah…he rules over ya too, who’s stabbin’ me! You…hear…me? Your…highness…is…the new…King…of…Everythin…!”


◀
#drabble
“I wait for my master to return home. I miss being held, played with and especially tea time. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the alone time. In those hours in the morning, I can have time for myself, watch the window fill with rain, the cars pass and the little children jump in the puddles. When the master is away, the house pet will sometime play with me; sometimes our games can be a bit…dangerous. But luckily, the mutt doesn’t ever catch me. When the day ends and the sun sets though, I hop back on my shelf.”“I wait for my master to return home. I miss being held, played with and especially tea time. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the alone time. In those hours in the morning, I can have time for myself, watch the window fill with rain, the cars pass and the little children jump in the puddles. When the master is away, the house pet will sometime play with me; sometimes our games can be a bit…dangerous. But luckily, the mutt doesn’t ever catch me. When the day ends and the sun sets though, I hop back on my shelf.”

“I wait for my master to return home. I miss being held, played with and especially tea time. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the alone time. In those hours in the morning, I can have time for myself, watch the window fill with rain, the cars pass and the little children jump in the puddles. When the master is away, the house pet will sometime play with me; sometimes our games can be a bit…dangerous. But luckily, the mutt doesn’t ever catch me. When the day ends and the sun sets though, I hop back on my shelf.”


Script dialogue 2 

Breaching Eden

 

A play in one act by Suzanne Helen James

Rating: T (violence, content)

Genre: mystery, war, two-hander

 

(Scene opens with a single light on the middle of the stage. There’s a table with a small, slim black stick. Down stage left, two guards are barely seen. The Breaker enters the scene and looks at The Rebel, a prisoner covered with bruises and head held down.)

 

 

The Breaker- My goodness. Ten years later and who would have thought I’d see you here of all places? Ironic, isn’t it?

 

The Rebel- …I can’t believe it. It is ironic indeed…you could’ve been sitting in this chair ten years ago…but now you’ve “changed” apparently. Are you in charge of tonight’s proceeding?

 

The Breaker- Yes, yes I am. I will be the one interrogating and you will have no choice but to answer to my questions or suffer the consequences.

 

The Rebel- Of course. I think I know how it works by now. It is really is something of irony, though. To think, once upon a time we knew each other.

 

The Breaker- Yes, yes…you and I go a long way back. However, the times where I was once the turbulent one and you were the dutiful one have now changed. If it wasn’t for The Society, I would’ve been beaten, broken and about to be brutally executed…just like yourself.

 

The Rebel- Well, if you must now, broken, battered and executed I may be, but my reasons are for the better good! After all, The Society should crumble along with its corruption. When it crumbles, the people will then rise and turn their back on the past.

 

The Breaker- Ah yes, I heard about this. You repeat that and so do your soldiers who follow you…though I suppose it is understandable. Criminal or not, you always had a certain charisma to you.

 

The Rebel- It wasn’t my charisma as much as it was The One and Only Truth that resonated to them. To realize that truth, The Society must crumble.

 

The Breaker- (chuckles) Honestly, I do find this meeting of ours truly ironic. The same Society that you wish to destroy is once the same Society you were so dedicated to protect. Have you really changed so much in the last ten years?

 

 

 

 

The Rebel- At the time, I was young and foolish. I was under the Society’s evil influence. I was ignorant and blind to the machinations behind the scenes…It was only recently that I freed myself and I saw the light. The Society you and I are living in is corrupt in every sense and can only be purged through our Revolution!

 

The Breaker- A bit crazy on the talking, no? But then again, this was the revolution speech that sparked millions of young minds into decisive action. And in our case, I’m afraid that they’ve accepted to destroy their own home.

 

The Rebel- How dare you call this a home? This degenerated and immoral cesspool is what you call a home?

 

(In his passion and anger, the Rebel had sprung from his seat, only to fall back down. The rebel hisses in pain and pants)

 

The Breaker- Heh heh heh…you know I’m finding you to be a truly remarkable sight right now, of a tired and hurting man…And after all that, you suddenly get mad at the mention of home…your home and my home as well! Don’t you know that The Society will always be our home; no matter “corrupted” you think it may be?  Let’s not destroy it for the sake of the children…

 

The Rebel- You think that our children will accept this? The children will rise to power and they will set in motion The Revolution that we have started! The Truth will come forth and set us all free! What is being said to us now has all been lies…but you can’t seem to understand that.

 

The Breaker- Are you actually asking me if I see lies around me? I’m afraid I don’t follow. What I do understand though, is that The Society does provide for us, no matter how many times you deny it. The Society will also provide for our children and they will indeed rise to take over. However, there is no need for your great and bloody Revolution to happen. The children do not need to inherit such pointless violence.

 

The Rebel- …Do you honestly hear yourself? You honestly believe that our sons and daughters will embrace the current Society? How can they, with such malice roaming around in our hearts? They will nit be blinded forever! They will not want to sit of the thrones of lies and corruption!

 

The Breaker- Oh no, no, no you don’t! I’m the one asking the questions here, not you. I’m surprised you’re still even talking under the state you’re in. And haven’t you ever asked yourself if you’re the one who’s going mad? I mean honestly, there is no need for you to continue this crusade of yours! There is no need for this to continue at all.

 

The Rebel- …You were always…always so stubborn. You’ve let yourself be so brainwashed you do heed my warnings…and you call yourself a man of justice. I guess Justice really is blind.

 

The Breaker- Do you honestly believe that I’m still “fighting” against something unrighteous? I’m afraid you’re wrong, my friend. This is where you are mistaken. I have surrendered my former ways and I’m now fighting the proper enemies; the enemies that cannot live in peace. People like yourself who are enemies to our peace in the Society, and they will always be.

 

The Rebel- And you’re calling me the crazy one? You’re in such denial yourself that you’re stooping to their level of thought! The Society has never had peace, or if it is, its false peace! The Revolution will bring way to through peace and then The Truth will enlighten us all! (Then, The Breaker gives a surprise slap to the Rebel)

 

The Breaker- Your mention of strong denial from my side is quite…irritating! Your own twisted talks of revolution, lies and corruption within our Society is destroying your mind! Have you been so traumatized that you’ve grown to believe the drivel that’s coming from your mouth? You, who was raised within the peaceful graces of the Society you are now dedicated to kill? Do you honestly want to destroy the place of your childhood for a childish fantasy?

 

The Rebel- The place of my childhood was all a very constructed cover for what lies beneath this cesspool of corruption! Everybody was being fooled into believing the stupid, cruel things…we were all being indoctrinated into thoughts of destruction. Such desperation to suppress the masses…but the madness ends here.

 

The Breaker- Why would it end here, your so-called madness? Is it because of you, your charisma and your so-called soldiers? They who are fighting against the foundations of their ancestors and their own legacy? I find it cruel that they would kill themselves in the name of an aimless revolution!

 

The Rebel- This “aimless” Revolution is to stop the cycle, stop the deaths and stop The Society’s descent into madness! The people will realize what sacrifices had been made! They will never want to repeat themselves again! They will strive to do better and repent away from their wickedness!

 

The Breaker- So you’re saying that the people who listen to you…they’re fighting tooth, nail, body and soul for the epiphany that is your revolution? And then what next, I ask you? What happens after the fabled Truth comes to us all?

 

The Rebel- The Society will be better and morally healthier. True freedom will then be achieved and the people will know what to do then.

 

The Breaker- Is THAT what you think the results of your little revolution will bring? You think that this is what the truth will enlighten? Do you honestly believe that The Society will prosper and better itself after your little righteous uprising? You are a truly amazing madman. Your belief and mine aren’t too different, if you think about it…Except that my thoughts are more plausible than yours are. They also have actual answers and substance…do you want to know what will really happen to The Society after your revolution? Corruption, anarchy and a slow return to the cycle you and your freedom fighters fought so hard to break. After all, The Society is only as strong as the people who support it. (pause) This is what I promise you…The Society will not only crumble…it will collapse!


(Just as soon as The Breaker had finished, he launched a fist at the Rebel’s stomach, making the Rebel cough violently. Retreating to the table, the Breaker then smirks)

 

The Rebel- (out of breath) …Are those your true thoughts? That The Society…will collapse? Its that sort of thinking that we are fighting against. With the success of the revolution, there will be hope, there will peace and there will be freedom! They will as a result of our sacrifices, so they would never have to be made again- OUGH!

 

( The Rebel was punched again mid-speech by The Breaker and falls over. The Breaker then looms over the body of the Rebel and puts a foot on his chest)

 

The Breaker- Have you ever tried to pursue a career as a priest? You could’ve been very successful, since you’ve got the blind fanaticism down right. But really, you’re getting quite repetitive with your preaching. Imagine if we were in front of an audience right now…don’t you think they’d want to see a dying prisoner make sense? I know you’re on the verge of death, but…try to at least get this into your head; The Society will collapse after your precious crusade. It will not prosper for long, though it might seem that way.  But I believe that in each and every one of us lies a craving, hungry bloody monster. And eventually, we ignore our conscience and the monsters devours us, one by one. And that’s what will happen with your precious renewed Society. Soon, the people will divide, and then you will collapse. The Society will fall, it will crumble…don’t forget that, you pathetic name for a lowlife.

 

(The Breaker removes his foot from The Rebel’s chest and the guards come in the room to sit him down. They then tie the Rebel’s arms to the chair and feed him pills to revitalize him. The Rebel then coughs as he returns to life, gasping and coughing and yelling in pain. He then glared at the Breaker with renewed fury in his eyes.)

 

The Rebel- You…How could have such thoughts and not be in my position is beyond my knowledge. But I must admit that they sound as crazy as my own beliefs, even worse! But why is it that you believe in what you say? We both know better…you deny the one and only Truth while I am willing to sacrifice for it.

 

The Breaker- Well don’t you have your own demented thoughts? Your nonsense about rebellion against the system; fighting for things which you have already have, but you’ve been misusing them. You know that under our laws, you may have all the freedom and prosperity and order you like, as long as you respect our boundaries. What has been established and always will be established in the order. You’ve just been too self-absorbed to appreciate it.

 

 

The Rebel- Yet I know and I follow my own conscience in my belief for The better Society! True freedom is not within your rules of torture and silence! My so-called lunacy has generated interest for a reason; the people are becoming conscious now…if you say that the things that I am fighting for are taken for granted, then the Revolution will bring those virtues into light! Call me what you like, do to me what you will, but my idea will remain! The Truth shall be heard!

 

(…The Breaker sighed and chuckled. This was all getting to start like martyrdom. After all, the Rebel had been kept alive on the adrenaline and the drugs…though it might cost him his life already. Oh well. He was getting so much fun out of the warm-up, but now was time to show EXACTLY why he had been chosen for the job…)

 

The Breaker- That charisma of yours can certainly keep your mouth going for minutes on end. Well…enough talk. I think its time you’ve gotten to know the new me and forget the former Delinquent from ten years ago. This is the only thing you know about me; I am a man of justice, and I fight for The Society itself. The only thing I know about you is that you are also apparently fighting for the eventual benefit of The Society. We’ve picked our sides and fought our battles. Isn’t it time we get to the point of this whole shebang and I take my time to actually break you? I mean, we’ve already gone through with the proceeding and now I get to have my fun. I hope you enjoy the savage experience. It’ll refresh your mind.

 

(The Breaker gets a truncheon and begins to slap and whip the rebel repeatedly and then he delivers punches to The Rebel, who is then electrocuted into exhausted again. Thanks to the pills he had been fed earlier, the adrenaline had been enough to leave the Rebel to a last inch of his life…)

 

The Breaker- Now, now, let us see what we have now…Do we still have eyes of a so-called revolutionary?

 

(To his excitement, The Breaker looks into a pair of beaten yet lively eyes.)

 

The Rebel- …A-Are you satisfied now? D-do you not listen to my words earlier? Call ne what you like, do to me what you want. My ideas will remain. The Truth will be heard. If I perish then the people will know and they will live for the Revolution…So your efforts are useless..!

 

(The Rebel then spits defiantly at the stunned Breaker, who actually receives the spit and in retaliation, viciously bites the lip and tongue of The Rebel. He then moves away and returns to the table, twirling the truncheon in his hands.)

 

The Breaker- I wonder…do you really want to die that much? Thinking that your demise will trigger something. Though of course, it could mean something if you died, though; you are a family man, widowed with a son. Said son then joined the Father’s happy cause. But then…will he have time to miss Daddy when he’s gone? I don’t know about that. But then, I forget that you also have influenced your surrogate gangs of rebel wannabes; young guns who all want to do something with their lives. They let themselves be brainwashed by your ideas so they can say they they’re important. They want to destroy buildings and scorch childhood enemies for your beautiful and successful revolution. Rah rah rah. I’m afraid that you’re in for a sad aftermath of bullocks after it.

 

The Rebel- …Again, I’m being called the lunatic…you have had your mind corroded to a point of no return. Your future of the Society collapsing will never happen. With the Truth, The Society will not be repeating our mistakes! (The Rebel is then slapped by the Breaker’s truncheon)

 

The Breaker- Uh uh uh. There you go again. Is the edge of death making you sound like a broken record? I’m beginning to think so. I think that you and I differ too much on how your revolution will ever happen. You’re so hellbent on creating your precious peace, freedom and prosperity that you will fail to see what will be lost in the process. It would have to take that one prodigy son of yours to make it exactly what you fear most. (He pauses to slap the thin stick on The Rebel’s cheek) And if that son of yours is as pigheaded and as hellbent as Daddy is, the denial will start even earlier and your worst will come…Since it only takes one man to lead a people to peace as well as that same man who could drive it to extinction.

 

The Rebel- I think you are mistaken this time around…but if you would like to prove your theory, finish me. With the knowledge of my demise, we shall we see who is right.

 

The Breaker- …Tut tut tut. Do you know what our first Revolution was about? It had been lead by a Knight named Gabriolus, who fell out of touch with the ruling lord at the time. He soon plotted conspiracy to take over from The Lord but was defeated and banished. Since then, these “fights for power” have been repeated, each with their shares of successes…though they vary. You want to fight for this. You want to fight for that. Familiarity that took years to establish and lose all over again. Why? Because one person couldn’t wait his turn anymore. One person was so short-tempered. One person was so empathetic that he made everyone believe that their fighting was necessary. The reversal of this authority for theirs. Your lives and mine will be better, I promise you. They all sound the same. The people listen. The people follow. The people prosper, destroy…and then, then they collapse. The monster had taken over. It was all because of that one man who was just too impatient. That one man was willing to put his life on the line for the revolution that will never truly come.

 

The Rebel- Grr! Such cynicism…well then, to see where your cycle will go, go on and finish me! I will prove to you that my sacrifice will be wor- (Before he finished his sentence, The Rebel was then jerked by the neck by The Breaker and faints.)

 

(Lights dim to black.)