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Jefferson Jackson · (10-19-2016)

A scene takes the shape of tall trees in the middle of a forrest at night, with light just peaking through before a glimpse of morning. Panning looking straight up under the dense capony of leaves and branches. A humming can be heard in the distance. The view scans closer through the stumps and rot before eventually slowing.

[Image: 20161019_111234.jpg]

Just beyond the misty shadows a small dark wooden hut somewhere that appears to be nowhere is the focal point. Inside kneeling with hands raised to either side as if in worship or ceremony: Bear Braddock. Whispering to himself with eyelids half shut and his eyes rolled backward beneathe them. He burries his head in his hands and rocks back and forth.

(careless whispers) A chateau of pleasure and pain. It's where I go to measure my name. With a seasoned look at the trouble ahead, and a gunless way to clear my head... I said... I wanna go to a place where the air doesn't tax the breath I take... I wanna feel alive again... I wanna be able to take my hands down from my face... I wanna go... not where I've been...

SHHOKUDOAHYEHHHHH!

He raises his hands again and reaches out as if he cannot attain what he reaches for. Then back down, then back up again repeating ritualistically several more times. Eventually he gets to a calm state. A woman dressed in a black veil emerges from the corner. She pulls out a white cloth as he leans backward.

An odd scratching can be heard from the front of the hut. She pats his forehead with the cloth then sits next to him as they both begin to say...

The sky is old,
Older than I,
But still I love the look in its eyes.
Beyond my reach or at my knees,
When the madness begins,
Don't forget to breathe.

Spotlights give presence,
Showing the dark,
When they illuminate,
A scattered forgotten part,
The glisten and shine over watched,
To deliver a message,
To become an echo of thought.

Madness can linger,
Even in the light,
Sometimes even revealing,
What shouldn't be seen right,
The wrongs unforgiven,
Turn the cannister quick,
Before the darkness,
Lets the light back in.

[Image: 20161019_110943.jpg]

They both sit for a minute as the scratching stops. The angle goes over their heads and down into a hole in front of them. Bloody claw marks, pieces of fingernails, and other unidentifiable pieces and parts line the sides as the dropping angle eventually lands on eyes wide open. The dazed man laying in the bottom of the hole twitching. Bear smiles.

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