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~~Peter Fn Gilmour~~ · (04-22-2014)

There appears to be nothing around. Homes have been abandoned. Cars seem to have been on fire at one point with no body left inside. The area is a ghost town.

. . . . . . . . Meanwhile, in another area . . . . . . . . . .

A funeral is in session on this bright sunny day. People are gathered all around an area that's been sectioned off for this day. A preacher is sharing his final thoughts with family and friends as they gain closer to finalizing the time to lower the body into the ground. The closing prayer happens and he follows it up with saying goodbye to all the family members and sorrow for their loss. He makes his way back to his car while the family shares in some sort of comforting moment.

I am far off in the distance watching this funeral progress. It reminds me that we often forget our day is numbered and we too will go into the ground one day. We will be gone while the rest who remain have nothing but memories and pain. I'll remain in the background until they leave. They don't need to know I'm here. I'm the man blurred in the picture. I'm the worker. I am the man's dark horse.

"Countless hours of a man's hands dug this ground. People come to bury their loved ones, decorate with pretty flowers, and yet the work digging into the ground and carving in the tombstone go unnoticed. It's the background that you have to look out for. You find out your favorite band is playing near you and so you go out, purchase tickets, and make it a night you'll always remember. You show up. The band is on stage. They are gearing up to hit that first strum and . . . . . . . . nothing. Confusion from the band. Utter chaos is going on before your very eyes. The crowd starts to turn and boo. Their hard earned money is thrown in the toilet because all eyes were on the star. People forgot the background. The men and women who plugged in the cords to make sure the connection was working. The men and women who would make sure the mute button wasn't on when it was time for them to play. People always forget the background. Everyone one of you are so similar.

Yeah, you look different because of the physical appearance. You look different because of what you wear and how you carry yourselves. You have many qualities that do make you different from one another, except for the ones that count. You all pretend to believe in something different but its really all the same. Some call it God, and others call it Science but you all place your coins into something. It's what makes you weak. It's the common ground you all stand on. You ignore the background and that's why you all are a pitiful bunch of fools.

Let's take a look at these who are ready to fight in this Rumble match.

Jon Plex. He appears to be a man that likes to revisit the past. A man that likes to rewind his life and sit. Jon, if you would only work on the now you'd be a little bit better off, but what do I know? You don't know me, so why listen to anything I have to say? Even if you did know me, you wouldn't listen. It goes with what I said, and that's you all are so similar.

Sebastian Duke, a man who loves to sit in darkness. From what I hear he's been trying his best to get the crown. It's a shame the crown is no longer around and all that's left is a World Title in its place. This belt is nothing but a gold circle with black spray paint on it held by a man who I'm sure is going to fade off fast. I've also heard this man was once feared, but has been on a losing streak as of late. He lost to some mechanic guy and his half of the tag team titles. Then, this group he's a part of called the Black Circle tried their luck in fighting for the Trio Titles, and failed. I wonder if he's one to believe the old saying, 'third time is a charm'.

Now we get to some bearded husk claiming he knows some kind of truth. He claims we all ask ourselves who we are. I don't. I never have, nor will I ever. I wonder if this great mind knows the ring doesn't have water in it, and therefore, he can't throw us out the water. I suppose we can just let him use his imagination can't we?

So different, and yet so similar. You may talk different but again, you have all forgotten the background. I've seen you all. I've heard all your wonderful words and imagery. I'm afraid that your time of difference is up, and the similarities is what will draw you all together under the same roof.

You see, world, I am Genesis. I am the beginning. No, do not associate me with your mindless talk about a higher power hiding in the clouds. Don't open your pathetic mouth and let words put you into this ground before you ever see my face or know my name. Listen carefully and draw near to me. The story is going to be told and you're all going to listen. I am everywhere. I am an eye in every animal and see everything. I witness the birds flying high above and looking down upon all that wrecks this place. I witness through the snakes who slither on the ground watching your every stumbling step. I look through all eyes. The course of change has been something you all have yearned for and it's been disappointing each step of the way, has it not? Not to fear, my children. The end is come and gone. Evolution is now in affect and with so many rapid changes, it's okay to feel unsettled. It's perfectly normal. It's okay to put up sour faces when something taste sweet, or to put up a smile when you're really hurting on the inside. You see, children, daddy is home. I am going to make it all much much better. All your burns will be fixed up.

This isn't Armageddon or the Apocalypse if that's what you're thinking. Those two words like to make your mind think the earth burning up, the universe fading away, and war going all around you. This is going to be much worse.

It's going to hurt for what seems like eternity."

"I am the mover of the Earth.

I am the rise to the sun.

I am the pain you'll always feel and the medicine to fix you back up.

I am the knight in shining armor to take back his bride.

I am the dragon that will consume you up with fire.

I am the sloth you laugh at because of my slow speed.

I am the cheetah that catches you in the day.

I am the wind that gives your breath meaning and life.

I am the shadow that lurks to end your heart beat.

I am the oxygen you gasp.

I am the brick that crushes your bones."

"The games we've played have gone on far too long and it is now time. The silence has been granted until now dearest ones."

The back of the man's head is all we really get to see. The family is gone and he starts walking towards the grave as the camera vision blurs a bit while he works. He's helping another man lower the body into the ground.

. . . . . . . . Several Hours Pass By . . . . . . . . . .

The man is sitting by the grave he buried just hours prior. We get a closer look at the man but he's without a face. He's wearing some type of gas mask. His clothes are covered in dirt.

"The air is no longer fresh. . . . ."

The way his voice carries is a bit different than before. Earlier, it was a little be clearer with a raspy sound to it. Now, it's muffled thanks to the mask he's wearing.

"The air is polluted and you all did this. Every one. There's no saint among you. There's no one good. All of you have been found guilty. What appears to be doom and gloom in your hearing from me it is not. In every dark tunnel there only needs to be a crack for the light to come in. Once it's discovered, then freedom. Don't you all want freedom? Don't you all want everything to be as it once was? The peace before the storm as it's been told before."

"Remember, don't ignore the background."

This voice was a bit clearer for some reason.

"The King has been killed so-to-speak. Now, people are after something else that this new owner holds. Rest in my arms and wait in the chamber, because. . . . . . "

"Because once the gas leaks into the air you will all suffer. I do not wish this life upon you but it's too late, children. Discipline is just a part of life and it is time for you to feel it."

. . . . . . . . Back at the area designated as the 'ghost town' . . . . . . . . . .

Where one person was given a proper burial, many here were just left to rot. A man with a gas mask is walking through the streets. He's carrying a dirty black bag in his left hand and something covered up in his right. Someone comes from behind a car and stands several feet in front of the man. He stops walking and drops his bag. More people begin to come out from various places to surround the individual. They don't look normal. They look beat, bruised, bloody, and homeless. They look like they are on the coarse of survival. All of them draw some sort of weapon, even things like a metal pole, and start walking slowly towards the individual in the gas mask.

"Who are you? What you want?"

Silence. The one who is speaking for the group looks around at everyone before trying again.

"What you got in that bag of yours?"

The masked man takes the covering off whatever it is in his right hand to reveal a nicely sharp sword.

"We just want what's in your bag and you can go! Don't do this."

He throws his sword toward the speaker but misses. They all start to laugh.

"That wasn't very smart."

There's a little bubble in the handle of the sword that busted. Everyone starts to close in now that he doesn't have a weapon. He's not moving. It doesn't take long as whatever liquid was within that 'bubble' has spread quickly in the air and the group are holding their throats. They all begin to drop their weapons and fall to the ground. They are suffocating. The man just watches everyone slowly die. He picks up his bag and walks through the group screaming for him to help them, but instead just ignores them. He picks up his sword and continues to make his way down the street with screams echoing the lonely streets.

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