Post by Rayne Draven-Omega on Jul 18, 2015 21:23:17 GMT -6
July 10, 2015
"Striking. Ryan, look at these dragons. The bright watercolors. The details in the scales. That orb they fight over looks like a ball of energy." My eyes soaked in the watercolor landscape by this Chinese artist. According to the sheet of paper taped to his booth he travelled here from Massachusetts. Much like us wrestlers, these artists travelled far and wide to spread their name and showcase their craft.
"It's spectacular, babe. This was a great idea. I can't believe the scouting of Compuware Arena for a couple months from now lined up this well with Art In The Park."
Art In The Park was a familiar pastime for Ryan. Located in the town square of Plymouth, Michigan; this cultural festival brought even more life into an already bustling downtown area. It was the first of many festivals in the Detroit area of its kind. The Founder's Festival in downtown Farmington and Arts, Beats, & Eats in downtown Royal Oak would follow also hit in the near future.
"Rayne, babe. Come here and check these enhanced color prints. Comerica Park, Ford Field, The Joe, Ambassador Bridge, an old Big Boy statue... Wait look at this. The old Michigan Central Station. I remember when the Serpent Society and myself squatted in their and remodeled it as our base of operations. That is until the county got involved." He sighs as he continues to flip through the bin of photos.
"Those were good times, huh?" I inquired whilst staring at photo of the rivaling Lafayette and American Coney Islands.
"Yeah. I was just thinking of Larry. Maybe we can visit him before we fly out to Montreal?"
I knew he missed his former manager. Ryan hasn't been completely the same since we both watched him get murdered in front of our eyes. How could you be the same after watching your best friend take a knife to the chest? Not just any knife either. A knife that you knew was meant for you. Ryan and I haven't been back to Mexico since. It was a fear he had. Guillermo Guillen Guerrero was one tough hombre with cajonés del fuego. With Mexico not being able to contain El Chapo. How could we even consider touring Mexico with no safety guaranteed from Triple G?
"Yeah, baby we can visit him." I feint a smile.
Ryan notices my emotions before grabbing my hand and pulling me off to a vacant alley.
"Rayne, are you absolutely sure you want this match? I've been through hell and back with Jason. He left my back a mess. Remember the skin grafts I needed? And all that was over a World Heavyweight Championship... What do you think he would do to you when there are emotional stakes? I mean no expense was spared in regard to his mind games.”
A sigh escapes my lips as my one of my slip-on checkered Vans plants against the brick wall.
“I made up my mind. There is no backing down.” The shaking of my head tells Ryan, it is not the best time to argue. I press away from the wall and start to advance back into the street when I see the denim and straw. A scarecrow that must have been twelve feet tall was wandering through the crowd and… and…
SHELL SHOCK
Everything was blurry and I found myself drop toe holding the giant straw man to the ground. It was like tunnel vision and the muffled screams made it seem like we were underwater. My fists kept flying in a flurry and I locked a Tourniquet in on this scarecrow until people were prying me off. They looked on in horror as I kept grasping at straws. Ryan grabbed me by my waist was was able to pull me off. I tried to kick and figh away from him but he just held tighter and tighter with each swing of my fist or my foot.
"Rayne! Rayne!" My husband desperately snaps me out of it as two cops come into view.
"Arrest him. Arrest him..." I beg, before I realize the cold handcuffs are being placed around my wrists. The officers restrain me. "Wait. What's going on?"
Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose as he pleads with the officers. The female looks with a serious demeanor into my eyes. "You have the right to remain silent."
As she continued to read me the Miranda Rights, pulling me through the sea of people. I looked back and saw the sadness in Ryan's eyes as he realized he couldn't help me right now. I was being walked to the Plymouth Police Department. Thoughts were flooding thoughts of Jason. Thoughts of how he knew my fear of scarecrows was intimate information, the irony of the heiress of one of the largest corn producing companies in the nation.
"Striking. Ryan, look at these dragons. The bright watercolors. The details in the scales. That orb they fight over looks like a ball of energy." My eyes soaked in the watercolor landscape by this Chinese artist. According to the sheet of paper taped to his booth he travelled here from Massachusetts. Much like us wrestlers, these artists travelled far and wide to spread their name and showcase their craft.
"It's spectacular, babe. This was a great idea. I can't believe the scouting of Compuware Arena for a couple months from now lined up this well with Art In The Park."
Art In The Park was a familiar pastime for Ryan. Located in the town square of Plymouth, Michigan; this cultural festival brought even more life into an already bustling downtown area. It was the first of many festivals in the Detroit area of its kind. The Founder's Festival in downtown Farmington and Arts, Beats, & Eats in downtown Royal Oak would follow also hit in the near future.
"Rayne, babe. Come here and check these enhanced color prints. Comerica Park, Ford Field, The Joe, Ambassador Bridge, an old Big Boy statue... Wait look at this. The old Michigan Central Station. I remember when the Serpent Society and myself squatted in their and remodeled it as our base of operations. That is until the county got involved." He sighs as he continues to flip through the bin of photos.
"Those were good times, huh?" I inquired whilst staring at photo of the rivaling Lafayette and American Coney Islands.
"Yeah. I was just thinking of Larry. Maybe we can visit him before we fly out to Montreal?"
I knew he missed his former manager. Ryan hasn't been completely the same since we both watched him get murdered in front of our eyes. How could you be the same after watching your best friend take a knife to the chest? Not just any knife either. A knife that you knew was meant for you. Ryan and I haven't been back to Mexico since. It was a fear he had. Guillermo Guillen Guerrero was one tough hombre with cajonés del fuego. With Mexico not being able to contain El Chapo. How could we even consider touring Mexico with no safety guaranteed from Triple G?
"Yeah, baby we can visit him." I feint a smile.
Ryan notices my emotions before grabbing my hand and pulling me off to a vacant alley.
"Rayne, are you absolutely sure you want this match? I've been through hell and back with Jason. He left my back a mess. Remember the skin grafts I needed? And all that was over a World Heavyweight Championship... What do you think he would do to you when there are emotional stakes? I mean no expense was spared in regard to his mind games.”
A sigh escapes my lips as my one of my slip-on checkered Vans plants against the brick wall.
“I made up my mind. There is no backing down.” The shaking of my head tells Ryan, it is not the best time to argue. I press away from the wall and start to advance back into the street when I see the denim and straw. A scarecrow that must have been twelve feet tall was wandering through the crowd and… and…
SHELL SHOCK
Everything was blurry and I found myself drop toe holding the giant straw man to the ground. It was like tunnel vision and the muffled screams made it seem like we were underwater. My fists kept flying in a flurry and I locked a Tourniquet in on this scarecrow until people were prying me off. They looked on in horror as I kept grasping at straws. Ryan grabbed me by my waist was was able to pull me off. I tried to kick and figh away from him but he just held tighter and tighter with each swing of my fist or my foot.
"Rayne! Rayne!" My husband desperately snaps me out of it as two cops come into view.
"Arrest him. Arrest him..." I beg, before I realize the cold handcuffs are being placed around my wrists. The officers restrain me. "Wait. What's going on?"
Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose as he pleads with the officers. The female looks with a serious demeanor into my eyes. "You have the right to remain silent."
As she continued to read me the Miranda Rights, pulling me through the sea of people. I looked back and saw the sadness in Ryan's eyes as he realized he couldn't help me right now. I was being walked to the Plymouth Police Department. Thoughts were flooding thoughts of Jason. Thoughts of how he knew my fear of scarecrows was intimate information, the irony of the heiress of one of the largest corn producing companies in the nation.
