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The_Franchise Michael Graves · (11-04-2016)

'WiTcH DoCtOr' BEAR BRADDOCK | 'Heartache'

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(play as you read)

Bleed for me,
Let the moist droplets hit my lips,
Make me whole again... after all this.

Hit the artery,
So the warm rush can be savored,
Pints of adornment... the best flavor.

Slash it open,
Into my careless starved needs,
I don't mind... if you forget to breathe.

Don't fade away,
Lose conciousness, you'll die this way,
And no one likes a cold entree.

Prelude ||

Can you hear it thumping, you must? Like a screen door being played with during a tornado gust. A beating heart, veiny and full, pumping endless lifeblood into vital parts of a body being pulled. A cardiovascular system overworked and under appreciated. Along an aorta so clogged, shuttering with fibrillation... remaining so dedicated. Daily, it rages just to keep up, deep within the chest cavity when Michael Graves calls me 'Mr.Braddock' fearing he's incredibly fucked. Pulsating wildly, when declarations are made, promising the world, that it will remember his name. Every beat further, from a precious beginning, and one pound closer, to being eaten as winnings. In passionate inquiry, his fast blood makes his mind race, trying to find a way out, to fight on another day. In the end it won't matter what chatter his valve's palpitations make... because there's no shame in a little tastey heartache.

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Scene ||

A support group of Satanist Recovery Advocates sit in a circle of fold out steel chairs. A large window collection on the side of the room. Coffee and donuts on a portable table toward the door at a worn down old chapel. A girl tells her story, moments later tears stream down her cheeks. Passing the sign on the door, the pan eventually reaches the face matching the voice.

Well, lets see... how do I even... okay, once upon a time I had it all. A job that defined me, a boyfriend who loved me, and a family that supported me no matter what. But over time the job became my focus and distracted me. The boyfriend got fed up and left me in the cold. My family became bitter over my satanic beliefs and said my only purpose was to unfold. It was a harsh reality. One that I wish upon no one. Nothing makes you whole after losing it all to pretend to be complete in a life that cannot be contolled. Everyone hates me... I just don't know what to do anymore. Every step I take feels wrong. Like... I'm destined to fail...

The leader of the group next to her passes over a tissue box. She looks down completely dejected and hopeless.

It is good to get that all out in the open. You are amongst friends who have been through the same calling at one time or another. When twists and turns shake your foundation, sometimes it can be hard to understand in those moments... but you grow, you get stronger, you embrace a new future with separate parts, but no less potential. Who would like to go next?

Raising a hand, a sickly skinny young man decides to speak up. The girl who finished tries to collect herself and gets up after a few seconds, whispering to the leader she needs to use the restroom, he directs her down the hall.

I was part of a following for three years. We weren't allowed to eat or shower until we brought back the head of an animal we captured and ate the heart of to prove our own heartlessness to the Shaman. Some of the others did it almost immediately. Killing was natural to the tormented, but I was just starting to accept my place in the culture. I still had a family I loved at home, and had rough patches like anyone, but no desire to kill... only to not be a sheep in the rules around me. I picked the wrong time and place. He would chant these things and annoint the ones who came back. But some of us knew that we may never take it to those lengths. But that is what he wanted, to find the heartless, the lack of light, and eliminate any chances the few remaining could have to turn against him. I wandered in the woods outside our tribal hut for a few days, but I did not feel stronger. I got weaker from not eating, my will began to fade away. My purpose became surviving, but off of leaves and berries, not death and blood. I wasn't much of an outdoorsman, I didn't know that some berries, especially the ones around there were poisoness. I ended up deathly sick and vomiting what little fluids my body had left after two weeks. No one came to find me, no one there knew my real name, or where I had went even if they wanted to. Eventually I made it to a clearing after 17 days... a farmer noticed me collapse while he collected wood for a fire. I nearly died and now have many health issues as a result of those few weeks. Never went back. It's funny... we had been told if we didn't make it back and tried to escape that we would be found by a beast and endure a horrible fate. He never wanted us to make it if we could not be devoted entirely to his ideals. I had nightmares for months afterward. Imagining waking up to his face in front of mine... those yellow eyes and followers carrying me away to a fate I knew could come. Eventually it got easier. Eventually...

A scream on the other side of the building is heard. A woman's voice clearly, similar to the one who began the session. The leader rises, motioning with a hand for them to stay seated. Tears begin to run down the mans cheeks who was speaking.

Oh my god...

The leader slowly enters the narrow gray hallway calling out her name. He looks back frightened, a voice does not respond but another sound can be heard.

Hold on a sec... what IS that sound?

THEY FOUND ME!

Other members try to calm him down, he flips out crying and pulling on his hair pacing back and forth. The leader proceeds down the hallway. An angle now shows a point of view shot of something or someone peering down a gray narrow hallway, with the panting gestures of an animal. Suddenly it sprints down the hall, turns left and is closing in on the leader who is halfway down with limited vision to see it coming. Hearing something stop in front of him and a deep snarl, the man screams and turns back. His feet fly out from under him causing him to faceplant on the floor. Blood begins to poor from his pulsating head, before the body is dragged back down the hall into the darkness. A few members screech at a defeaning level, others throw chairs into windows to break them and flee into the bare parking lot beside. The former following member who spoke sits under a broken window with his head in his knees. He finally looks up with anger and acceptance in his glare. He moves toward the door as others warn him before jumping out the windows; he begins shouting down the hall.

I AM HERE BEAR! TAKE ME, NOT THEM. I AM THE ONE YOU WANT, I FAILED... PUNISH ME!

Feeding slurps in the distance stop after he is done talking. Another snarl and howl of an ungodly sound. Feet heard stepping, then running, the shot now on the man standing in the doorway from the beasts perspective as it charges. Quickly rethinking his challenge the man steps back as it approaches... he attempts to slam the door on its head. Slamming it with aggression over and over. The moaning of pain and sickly head trauma ends, the carcass falls to the floor out of site, blood running under the door between the mans feet. He finally opens it. Looking behind him, all the other members personal belongings are left behind, only one member is left standing in the corner of the room. He looks down and turns over the beast.

What the fuck...

A miniature man with his same face in a pool of guts and sweat. Shocked he sees that the face almost looks like a fake, but is cut and bleeding in areas. Curiousity propels him to touch the right eye. It feels cold not warm like a recently deceased animal. His fingers dig in and pull the eye out of the socket. Holding it up into the room light he steps back into the center, showing the other remaining person what he had found.

Look at this... it isn't real... its... cold. Like, a doll... a rubber costume prop...

He turns examining it, fascinated by how all of this could be true. The person in the corner steps toward him, and drops a long robe to the ground. Bear Braddocks eyeballs begin to glow yellow with hunger. The man eventually feels the presence looking toward him.

WAIT, NO! I KILLED IT I WILL EAT ITS HEART, THERE WERE NO TIME LIMITS!

Running to the small beast, he gets up and smashes a fire shield nearby with his elbow, getting glass in his face. He grabs the axe inside and feverishly chops at the chest of the beast to find and devour its heart to hold up his end of the demented bargain. White stuffing pours out of the chopped crevice. His face becomes stale, he turns back and is nose to nose with Bear. The sound of puncturing below... the mans face grimaces, then his expressions falls weak before he crumbles. Bear's hand raises his still barely beating heart above, and dangles a long attached vein into his mouth. He turns and gestures his hand to be held, as the small now one eyed beast gets up off the floor, rips out one of the victims eyes and replaces his missing one. He shuffles up to Braddock and holds his hand. They hop out the broken window and walk into the empty lot together, as other group members watching from hiding places scatter upon seeing him feed on their fellow recoveree's lifeblood.

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Conclusion ||

Deception is madness when you enter my ring,
You prepare for a fight,
While I am there to fulfill a need.

Trouble cannot speak but you feel it in your heart,
It aches for forgiveness,
Until it is no longer a part.

Sickly your body tries to recover with amps,
But losing your strength,
You feel cold and damp.

Warfare will make you weak if you forsake this law,
To show up somewhere else Wednesday,
Before your heartache ends in my jaws.

Fade ||

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Heartache \| ThE WiTcH DoCtOr
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