"In the end you should have expected me. I'm always around. I'm never leaving. Don't you get it, boy?



I AM YOU!"

Homecoming

"Welcome home, my boy."





I stood in pure horror in my small one bed apartment in Charlotte, NC. I'd recently been fired from the XWF by Shane for not keeping my mouth shut about the things I didn't like about him. It was around midnight when I walked in to the man I'd thought had died once more sitting on my couch. He was wearing a full grey suit with a black tie. His feet were crossed on my coffee table as he looked at me with his yellow, devil's eyes. In his hand was a People magazine that he must have been reading, that was the single weirdest part of the night. Why would HE be reading that? Then there was his face...covered in that brown burlap sack with a mouth sewn up poorly and the eye holes being uneven.












The Wraith was back.
















"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked without a second thought.






"Language, my boy, language." He chuckled as he stood from the couch and approached me. I jumped back and he threw his hands up.






"No need for that now, I'm not going to hurt you."






"Sure." I said with much sarcasm as anytime The Wraith came to visit me it was never any good. He was a persona I became years ago after falling hard on drug and losing my sanity. I put the mask on and became him for while. It was successful to say the least as I won the Hart Championship under his name. Then I ended up fighting back and sent to a mental health hospital by family. From there I learned that The Wraith and I were the same. He was a personality I hid dormant in my brain for a long time since I was little. He was an imaginary friend come to life. He'd always been there but in different forms. This was his most recent. Early last year he came back and took over, but I gained my sanity once more. Then....I was fired. Immediately after taking the mask off and letting my opinions out Shane let me go. The temptation was there to put it back on, be what Shane would rather want me to be.






"You know as well as I do that I am your only way back in. You thought you'd just get rid of me and try to get on without me, but what has that gotten you? Nothing, Scott. It has gained nothing. YOU lost your job. I would never have done such a thing. WE would be TV Champion instead of that idiot Satellite or Super Nova, which ever he prefers. You fought me so hard that we weren't running at full capacity and he beat us. That's all on you!"






His eyes were burning with hatred over the loss. If there was one man who hated Satty, it was The Wraith.






"No, it's your fault. You're too weak to do anything." I said with courage. I wouldn't let him get to me this time. He only appears when things aren't going well for me, so he can snatch me up at my weakest.






"You have to wait for me to have a bad day just so you can get back in control. You know what that says? YOU ARE WEAK!!" I didn't realize I shouted the last part until The Wraith lunged forward and grabbed my throat. He shoved me against the wall violently, my head busting through the top layer.







"SILENCE!! I will not have my vessel talk back to me in such a manner. Don't lie. It's not good for you, my boy. You know that I am stronger than you. It's your own fault for being so weak. To give me so many chances to take you over."







"It's not my fault you can't capitalize on these chances." I grumble as his hand his closing my airwaves. He gets right in my face so our eyes are only inches apart. Hell is only a fragile place compared to the entry way that is The Wraith's eyes. Horrors unimaginable, things that would make Lucifer blush. He laughs in my face and drops me on the floor. The Wraith turns and walks back over to the couch. He sits down and opens the People magazine again.






"Did you know, Scott, that the people in this magazine are considered God among the peons of the great United States of America?"





I rub the pain from my throat as I lean against the wall collecting myself. What kind of game is he playing at? I decide to play along.






"No, I did not. Care to explain?"






"There faces are everywhere in this thing. Different people, doing different things. Each and everyone of them are ruling over something that others find to be enjoyable. Then those people worship them for holding these values. They all want to be them and make them proud of them. Take this Jennifer Lawrence girl. She gets put on screen doing a movie that all these people wanted and now they want to know about her. She is put in a film and wins an Oscar, so everyone is more interested. They want to know who she really is. They want to know everything about her and what she is doing. That's why this magazine was made, so we'd get to know that. That's why we have so many interviews with them, that's why so many dress like them. Why is that? Why, Scott?"





I look at him in a puzzled manner.






"I have no idea."






"Exactly. Nobody really knows. They're just like you and the rest of the world. They are human, but this status makes them so different. They are above you in the theatre, literally larger than you. You hang on every word and once it's over you want more. This, my boy, is what makes a God. This is what I strive to be. The XWF is just the same, but they are more worried about playing Chess with Kings and Jesters and Knights. You and I should be playing Dungeons and Dragons. We should have everyone hang on our words and create new ones. WE SHOULD BE THE GODS!!"





He pulls a lighter out from his pocket, a trademark of his. This can't be good. I stand quickly and rush over to him. He stands pointing the flame at me. I stop.






"Take a step back. You know this won't be so bad."






"Put it down, Wraith."






"Why should I? We are the creators, we are the destroyers. This is our destiny. Come back to me, Scott. It's the only way back. It's the only way we can stay at the top with everyone else. You know this to be true."





He places the flame over the magazine and sets it on fire. It burns brightly in his hands. He places the lighter back in his pocket and points at the door.






"I suggest you go now, Scott. You don't want to be here. I need you as my vessel after all. In mint condition."






"I'm not leaving."








He laughs and moves his point to behind the couch. I walk over and see 4 gas canisters. All four have been opened and all have gas sprayed around them. I look to The Wraith who's laugh as deepened.






"Run."








He whispers to me as I make a bolt for the door and he throws the burning magazine back.







To Be Continued

A Few Words

Apparently I'm supposed to say some things about my match this Saturday, but I've been so busy this week with trying to find ways to send baked potatoes to Shane Carvers desk in horrible ways that I forgot a bit about it. So here's what Scott Charlotte has for you and no...it's not a potato filled with Buffalo Dick and Goat Cheese.


Here's a quick thought. John Austin thinks he's better than me, but he isn't. You want to know why? Because I've beaten him before and this time will be no different. You see last time you put a spike in my eye and this time I'm going to stab you with one as well. It's the only logical thing to do now. An eye for an eye as they say.



Then later in the night we have the end of Shane . That is what I am most excited for. To be apart of the historic death of Shane . The greatest even in television history!!! All that's missing is Adam Scott. I look forward to being in the Admins corner as well as being his World Champion. You better believe it's going to be me.


See that Austin. See that Marshall Cage, the man I forgot was even in my match on Saturday. I am a future World Champion. Now get ready to have my boot down your throat and your leg hooked by my arm for the 1...2...3!!



See you there.