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Ozymandias · (05-28-2014)

City: Denver, Colorado.
Place: Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception.
Date: May 22nd, 2014.
Time: 23:48 MDT

The scene fades from black to the outside view of the Cathedral. It's coming close to midnight as the city is sleeping. The camera zooms towards the front entrance of the church. The door opens, but no one is there, as the camera makes its way inside the building. As the camera passes through the lobby, it turns to the left to enter the sanctuary of the cathedral. The pews are empty, the only light in the room are from a few candles burning in the windows and near the pulpit. The camera zooms towards the presbytery where the priests and other officials would usually be sitting. A man dressed in blue jeans and Rocky brand boots sits in a chair in this section. A black hoodie is worn over his torso and the hood of the jacket is covering his head. The man is Jeff Taylor. He sits there in the chair, contemplating, with his arms bent and his elbows rested upon his knees. His hands supporting his chin, he keeps his vision forward, not acknowledging the camera. He begins to speak.

The Lord is My Shepherd, He restores my soul, He guides me in the paths of righteousness For His name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies, You have anointed my head with oil, My cup overflows.… I was raised in the church. My parents were very religious people. If the doors were open, we were there. The church where we were members, was the church that my grandfather helped build. He was the official bell ringer, back when the bells had to be rung manually, before all this high tech computerized bells we have now. I wasn't forced to believe in God, I was just forced to be present at every service. This went on for years. From the time of my birth until I became a teenager. Once I turned thirteen years old, my father believed it should be up to me whether or not I wanted to go to every service, if any at all. I continued to join the congregation in worship for a couple more years, even with the freedom I had been given to choose my own path. My father was then stricken with cancer of the lungs. Which was astonishing to the entire family, because my father had never smoked a day in his life, and yet... the sickness that every one fears but everyone believes couldn't happen to them, happened to my father. The chemotherapy began. Day after day, week after week, and to me, he only seemed to be getting worse as the time went on. The cancer cells in his lungs were fading, but the energy my father used to have was going with it. He couldn't eat, had trouble sleeping and was too weak most days to get out of bed. There were days I had to pick him up and put him in a wheelchair to get him to his appointments. Then just like that, the doctors said, " It's a miracle, the cancer in his lungs is now gone."

Jeff Taylor sighs and stands up to his feet. He begins walking around the pulpit as he continues to speak.

What a relief. What a joy that was to my family and I as we were convinced now, we would have many more years to come with my father. I couldn't of been a happier kid. Fifteen years old, almost sixteen. My father and I were going fishing again, playing catch in the front yard, going to all the church services, until... One morning, my father wakes up. I can hear him talking down the hall way in his bedroom. He wasn't screaming or yelling, but the tone and volume of his voice was a lot louder and more serious than usual. "Jeff... I can't feel my right leg.. My right arm, its numb." What just happened? What is going on with my father? Did he sleep funny and his whole right side was paralyzed? Did he have a stroke in the middle of the night? What was going on? He couldn't walk. Right side of his body was useless to him, so once again I was back to loading him into a wheelchair and loading him into the car. We drove to the doctor, who didn't have a clear answer for any of my fathers ailments. He suggested a catscan, a m.r.i. and x-rays. The oncologist at the local hospital had a sad look in his eyes when he came to tell us what he had found. Cancer... On the left side of his brain. How? Why? But we had faith. Faith that God would bring him out of this trial just as he had done before. The radiation treatments started. But after a couple of weeks, the oncologist had lost hope. The tumors were not shrinking, his symptoms only becoming worse. He was omitted into the hospital and soon, was unable to speak. He tried with all that he had to utter words that would make sense to everyone but he just couldn't. Eventually he slipped into a coma. My mother wanted to bring him home, so we did. Hospice, brought him a bed and we put it in the living room. People came by to see him, but he wasn't waking up to see any of them. His breathing became so shallow. I wasn't at home at the time, but my mother called me. Frantic. "I think hes about to go Jeff, we need you here." I climbed into my truck as fast as I could and I hit the highway going 114 miles per hour. If any law enforcement was planning to pull me over, they would have to follow me all the way to my house. I get inside my home, seeing my father laying on the hospital bed in our living room. Breathing ever so weak, pale as a ghost. My aunt began to sing "Amazing Grace." Oh how sweet the sound... Then he was gone. The next two to three hours was all a blur to me. EMTs running in and out, funeral personnel coming in, taking him away. Why? Why was this happening to this man? My father. The next few days, receiving and funeral... My faith was diminishing. I still believed in God, but I couldn't help but have an anger toward him. An anger, that has subsided, but is still lingering to this day.

Jeff Taylor, flips the hood back on his jacket and sits back down into a seat. He peers hard into the camera.

Ms. Callaway spoke of my ego. She learned fairly quickly, that my ego is in check. I am always, in check. But now, the XWF has decided to put me into a blind tag team match. I don't know this man they have picked as my partner. But that is neither here nor there, because all I need for him to do, is show up. Demons and monsters, roaming the earth, and they have nothing else better to do but wrestle? It's not making much sense to me, but none the less I have accepted it. The one thing this demon probably thinks, is that I am afraid of him. I can't say that I'm not, because without fear, there is no courage. And if "Devil Dog" Jeff Taylor, is anything, he's courageous. But Cain has probably never had to face anyone that has looked death in the eyes as much as I have. As far as egos go, my two opponents at Warfare need to check their egos at the curtain, along with all the other body parts they are planning to keep. Believe in what you want fans of the XWF. It your decision, by right, to choose what you want to believe in. But remember this one thing... You can't believe in God, and not believe in the Devil. Cain and Luca Arzegotti... I am not the Devil... but I won't be your hero... YOU ARE NOT PREPARED!

As Jeff Taylor yells, the bells of the cathedral toll as it becomes midnight. The camera, zooms out and traces its steps into the church backwards to where it began, as a view of the front of the building. A whisper is then heard through the audio... "Oorah." As the scene slowly fades to black.

[Image: kZJlGDY.jpg]

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