Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Jenny Myst · (04-09-2021)

That feeling.

Sheer terror. It doesn't matter what is ahead of you, because you know what is behind you.

Anything is better than what creeps in the shadows.

Every little sound, every branch snap and leaf rustle, it makes the hair on your arms stand at attention.

She turned, and froze. They were gone. Where? They had been standing right there, by the oak tree. Even their very presence seemed non-existent in the cool air surrounding the vast oak tree. Her breath quickened, blue eyes widening. Suddenly she was aware of her heart pounding in her chest and ears, her hair and skin moving to the heavy, staccato rhythm.

In her head, a hive of bees began to swarm.

She ran towards the oak tree, dodging past the thin black and white trunks of birch trees, her long tawny hair catching on branches as she flew through them. She stopped a meter short of the oak, still they did not appear. Tentatively, she walked around the tree, her little feet navigating themselves around the cumbersome roots. She silently hoped that they were simply hiding, waiting to jump out and surprise her followed by laughter.

Behind the tree, there was no one.

She yelled for them until the sound caught in her throat, familiar voices not heard. The helpless girl looked around for any indication of where they might have gone, but even the path they had walked had disappeared. Trees blocked her view any way she looked, their tall menacing bodies barring her access to the forest beyond. She felt as if she was being stared at by hidden heinous beings from all directions, encircling her and drawing in. She felt the infinite, secretive body of the forest size her up; a feeble child afraid of the dark. The frightening thought of night drawing near, its silent dark tresses blanketing everything in sight began to dawn on her. She shuddered. She looked again, but the forest was empty.

Gradually her heart slowed and her breathing became less rapid, she sat at the base of the oak tree, cradled by its comforting roots. The silence of the forest greeted her, its soft zephyr gently embracing her small, fragile figure. She accepted that now, she was definitely alone.

Her breath started to stager. It was too hard to keep going. Her knees went weak and gave way. It felt as though she was falling. Falling through a deep dark tunnel. Had she fainted?

If only she could be so lucky.

She sat there for a minute that seemed to go for an eternity. As the trees moved in the aggressive wind, shadows of frightening shapes littered the ground.

Her legs felt like they weighed 100 lbs each, but she forced herself back up. They would catch up to her soon........she need not rest too long.

So she ran again, stumbling through the patches of thorns and ground-born roots that tripped her on every occasion. This was her world now.......the mushroom patches she trampled over she would soon become nutrients for. She'd die from exhaustion before she let them kill her, though.

She swore she heard footsteps behind her. There were growls and gnashed teeth, eyes like lasers, sizing her up, salivating at the thought of ripping her flesh to threads.....

The underlying soft, stealthy rustle. Squirrels and mice along with the erratic drilling of a woodpecker combined with the hoof beats of faraway herds of deer created a beat that the whole forest moved to. An entire choir made up of the dramatic soprano shrill of tiny birds harmonised by the indulgent alto owls and bawling bass of trees old and hollow bark. Two squirrels chased each other up a nearby birch, stopping to hide playfully behind their bushy brown tails.

It was peaceful and serene but also dark and terrifying.

She ran past, though she could not tell if she was running. The nerves in her legs long since lost the ability to feel. As she ran, she began to see the thickness of the trees get slimmer, there was more light.

She swear she heard footsteps.

Oh god, the footsteps! They were coming faster............

They were right behind her!

She dropped to the ground, covering her head with her hands as she expected the blow to come........

Nothing.

Silence.

She took a few moments, thinking--wishing--she was dead......before she looked back.......nobody ws there. Nobody was chasing her. Confusion set in, followed by more panic, then more confusion. She went to get off her knees and try to stand when she fell face first into the soft dirt, her breath blowing the dust in several directions in front of her.

Somewhere in the abyss of her hearing capabilities, an engine cut.

The XWF is unequivocally stronger now than it was when I made my debut as an in-ring competitor. Back then, there was the top tier of demi-god types that we all wanted to be, maybe a handful of competitors that everyone else was ankle biting, but the mid-card had more holes than a Tijuana Brothel. Now, you look at XWF and the mid-card....hell, this is a mid-card to salivate over. This is prime time, top tier, big money and the the elite here, well.....the elite here are some of the most elite anywhere on the planet. Trust me, I learned that the hard way. For years, I was on the outside looking in. I was a spectator at the game, bragging about my mezzanine level seats to the ones sitting in the sky boxes, while my ex boyfriend stole the show and turned this company on its ear. When I had the chance to take the bull by the horns, I did it, and I yanked like hell. Problem was.....

I didn't know how to be successful. I didn't know what winning was. I would party with cocaine and champagne in hotel rooms until the sun came up, and every victory he racked up I was rolled into. We were a package deal, a real Bonnie & Clyde. Only, Clyde was doing all the work while Bonnie was walking around with designer bags and custom nails. Clyde was building a brand while Bonnie was becoming it. Clyde was laying the bricks to the foundation while Bonnie was ordering the lobster from her pink Bentley and expecting them to deliver it to her. As much of a scumbag as Chris Chaos can be, there wasn't a single person I can name who was a harder worker and who put themselves through more hell to get to where they're at. Me? I got famous through his blood, sweat and tears. I rode his coattails like a prize winning thoroughbred and used every single ache and pain he had to pay my credit cards. I am woman enough to admit that.

I had my first singles match this month four years ago. April 22nd, 2017. Colton Kato was still the GM.....Jesus has it been that long?

I was stepping into the ring for the first time on my own against Isabella Ravenwolf. This chick was dark and gothic, ate babies as a gimmick, painted herself in blood and masturbated with crucifixes for shock value.....we couldn't have been any more different, but she had something that I didn't....experience inside that ring. Was she a star? By no means. Hell, you probably don't even know who she is, but to me at the time? The task seemed like trying to climb Mount Everest in a bikini. This was the first time I had to actually step inside that ring and scrap with someone who knew what they were doing instead of standing outside of it cheering for Chaos, pretending I knew what I was. I had been watching him throw bodies around for the better part of a year, how hard could it be, right?

Wrong.

It was extremely hard. I had no clue what to do inside that ring, and it showed. It was like watching a monkey trying to fuck a football. At the end of that match, Chris entered the ring. He speared Isabella out of her spikey black boots, and he let me get the pin-fall. I was 1-0, and at that point the greatest accomplishment of my life......was handed to me. I didn't earn anything, Champ. I didn't earn it and I loved every minute of it. We celebrated that night as if we had both won, but the real truth is he had won twice and like always, my name was somehow attached to it. I was walking funny for two days afterwards for nothing.

Now I step into the ring with a virtual no name, someone trying to make their presence felt in the top wrestling promotion in the world, and they have to crane their neck to look up at their expectations. Hopes, dreams, desires. I had them all once, too. For me, this is like starting over. Hitting the reset button. It's like I've been battling through levels of this game, reached the boss level, died 27,000 times, got frustrated, and decided to start the game from the beginning, hoping to pick up a new strategy along the way. Don't tell me you've never restarted a game, Champ. You look like the kinda guy who has to have his way or he throws a fit. I'm sure you've broken a controller or ten. You're definitely going to be an asshole mall cop one day.

I feel like this is a new day, a new era, a new sunrise on a night that lasted far too long. All the best players go through slumps, it happens. Difference is, in THIS sport, we are defined by them. In baseball you only have to be good at your job 3 times out of every 10 on a consistent basis, and you're a hall-of-famer. In hockey, you can be a goalie with a .422 winning percentage--being "elite" less than half the time--and you're heralded as one of the best to ever do it. Football players don't have to win Superbowls to make the Hall, just ask Dan Marino, and basketball players can average less than double digits in scoring and bring questionable character and morale to the floor every night, look at Dennis Rodman.

In this sport, we don't have that luxury.

We have to be on every single night. We are expected to bring our very best to the table every time our entrance music hits. If you're a champion, you're on top of the world. If you're not, well, you better be damn good otherwise you can slip through the cracks and end up as a vague memory in the snap of a finger. I know how it feels to be champion, to sit atop that pedestal, to be revered as the best and looked up to....but I also know all too well how it feels to be looked over. When a great player goes through a slump, we're confident that they will eventually come out of it. They told Derek Jeter to just keep swinging, they told Michael Jordan to just keep shooting. Eventually, the slump will end. What have they told Jenny Myst?

Maybe you don't have it anymore, kid, maybe its time to pack it up.

The pressure to be the best in pro wrestling is insurmountable. Chris Chaos was on top of the world and look at him now....top ten all time in XWF and hasn't held gold since Obama was in office. Given the consolation prize of having his name on a list nobody cares about because he held the Universal Title, ONCE, four years ago. He folded like a lawn chair under the pressure. Sure, he was good once, but now.....if his own mother were picking teams, he'd still be riding the bench.

I want to be different. I don't want to be Chris Chaos. I felt myself slipping into that trend, going down that road, letting a title belt dictate and control my very existence when in reality I can be so much more. He had that little taste of fame and like an addict was always searching for that euphoric feeling again. He never found it. Now he makes sporadic appearances at Pay Per Views as a big name to drive up buy-rate only to lose to the upper echelon yet again because he doesn't believe in himself anymore. He is a broken shell of a man. He was not able to understand the key to his success, and what made him who he was.

I said a long time ago, not to flog a dead horse here, but I said: The key to victory, is defeat. I had been in a slump like this before, and I had been written off as just another pretty face trying to make her way in a business where ugliness runs rampant. I uttered that phrase above and I went on to beat Madison Dyson for the first time to put myself on the map. I am not sure there is anyone on this roster with more victories over Madison than I have....

RIP, by the way.

The point is, I rose out of my slump and I made something of myself. I fell back into my rut, and I rose up again. Being the Shooting Star Champion was a rush, and I still to this day am the longest reigning. Same goes with Bombshell. But those accolades do not define me because unlike Chris Chaos, I understand that there is so much more left to do.

I will come out of this slump eventually and when I do, the XWF will be right there with open arms, waiting to put my face on their promotional fliers again. It all comes full circle.

I felt for too long like I was running through the forest, lost and misguided, with no shoes on and tattered remains for clothes. I felt like I was never going to get out of this forest, like I would continue to run forever without ever seeing the light of day again through the dense foliage. It's a suffocating feeling. But now, I hear the cars blowing by. I hear the horns blare and the snippets of music, only seconds audible as it races past at 80 miles per hour. I know that the road is long and arduous, but at least it has a direction, it goes somewhere. I have stumbled out, battered and bruised, dehydrated and disoriented. I have fallen to my knees, telling myself I can go no further and this spot is where I will shrivel up and die. One quick look up, expecting to see the same dense landscape that has trapped me for so long.........but its blue sky.

It's cars, trucks, and bikes. It's asphalt and fading paint. It's big green signs and orange cones.....unforgiving but a welcomed change. Bile rises in my throat as my cotton mouth restricts my words.......I can't talk, but only process.....I made it.....

You wanna get graphic, Champ, we can go the scenic route.

I've fought this long, why stop now. I will walk into that cage and I will do what I have to do in order to do the one thing I've ever been good at in this life.......survive.

Where the Trees Meet the Freeway."

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Where the Trees Meet the Freeway
Author	Message