Post by Cameron Behringer on May 22, 2015 21:29:45 GMT -6
i.
We wake, each morning, like seeds
bursting from the soil, uprooting our limbs,
trying to taste the sun. Others lay still,
not quite living, not quite dead,
but dormant.
We wake, each morning, like seeds
bursting from the soil, uprooting our limbs,
trying to taste the sun. Others lay still,
not quite living, not quite dead,
but dormant.
ii.
The familiar ruckus of thunder stirred me from my contemplations. As my eyes crept open, a burst of lightning exploded against the clouds and sent light flaring throughout the room. Against the radiance, the tapestry of tattoos that laid beside me slumbered, pale skin covered by white silk sheets. For a moment, her body was a wave, each breath sending the sheet raising and falling from her mid-back, drowning the detailed inscriptions in her skin. I inhaled, taking in the familiar scent of sweat and the oncoming storm. Outside, the early morning sun was cloaked by charcoal colored clouds. In the distance, plumes of rain fell to the earth, and the instances of lightning quickly multiplied. I stood from the bed and made my way to the window, pulling down the sheet of glass meant to separate us from nature. Another bellow came forth and shook the glass in my hand.
My feet carried me into the kitchen. In the small confined space, on top of the concrete counter-top, waited a collection of pots of various size and color, surrounded by and filled in with dark soil. My hands hovered over them, fingertips eventually caressing each small, green tendril that reached out to me.
“They’ll die, eventually.” I sneered and shook my head.
“As will I.” I lowered myself over the largest of the seedlings and pinched a dying growth in my fingers. I removed it with care, making certain not to damage the fragile body. Before I could discard it, the entirety of the plant turned brown, then black, and then wilted before my eyes.
“They’ll die, eventually.” I clenched my jaw and slammed my eyelids together. When I opened them, the plant was as alive and well.
I continued pruning for what felt like an eternity. Once I was done, I collected the torn bits and began to squeeze them between my hands. A soft stirring behind me peaked my senses, but I ignored it, attributing it to another hallucination. As I began to poke holes into the topsoil and place the remaining powder back into the pots, a murmur came from the bedroom door.
“What are you doing?” The woman’s soft voice sent a smile across my face. But, rather than answer, I continued working. Footsteps followed my silence until I could feel her presence like a breath on the back of my neck. She stepped forward and beside me, glaring cautiously at my work.
“Help me understand...this.” She pointed at the pots.
I tilted my head and avoided her gaze, allowing my eyes to attend to the branches of oak outside the kitchen window. The summer months had been cruel, drought shriveling the leaves to tiny brown masses of tinder. Upon the branch, that was swaying against the rain, a robin returned my gaze while chomping on seeds, curious as to why its privacy had been disturbed. As its beak moved, bits and pieces of life feel from it to the earth. It shook its head, fruitlessly attempting to rid itself of the excess water. My body relaxed. How inconsequential the possibility of living things were.
“Wake up.” The harsh clap on skin against skin sent the bird fleeing into the sky and my head darting in the direction of awful sound. In that moment, it amused me that her most frustrating attribute was also her most refreshing. She had the inquisitive nature of a child whilst maintaining the barbaric reputation that she had fostered.
“Some things are meant to be a mystery, Elizabeth.” This answer disappointed her. Rather than press the subject, Elizabeth stood and made her way to the black messenger bag she had propped on the counter the night before. Her hand fumbled through its contents before removing a handful of pills from its recesses. Without hesitation, she threw them all into her mouth and chased them with water from the tap.
“I simply cannot place you, Cameron.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“No. You’ve known me for years.” Her tone betrayed the extent of her frustration, leading me to sigh and adjust my posture.
“Hand me my medicine.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and returned her hand to the bag.
“The Geodon?”
“Leave it.”
“Leave it.” She nodded and removed a slightly bigger collection of medications than she had taken herself. She returned to my side with a glass of water.
“Cameron…”
“Why must you know?”
“I only wish to know you.”
I could not help but chuckle, “Fine, my little philomath.”
“You’re-” Elizabeth closed her eyes and clenched her fist, nearly exploding from the condescension. While waiting for her to calm, I threw the white tablets into my mouth and chomped down with my molars, the sour taste of opiates, opioids, and acetaminophen burning my tongue. I allowed the powder to rest there, momentarily.
“I’m?” I asked.
“Get on with it.”
I swallowed. “I have spent the last several years in a state of near sleep. I cannot have rest, yet I cannot wake.”
“You’re bored”
“No. Boredom is a lack of excitement. That isn’t what this is.”
“Tell her, Cameron.”
“She’ll know soon enough.”
“Tell her, Cameron.”
I raised my hand to my temple. Elizabeth sighed and rested her hand upon my scalp, gently massaging the top of my scalp, “What are they saying?”
I did not answer. Instead, I jumped from my seat and wandered to the scattered pile of mail on the opposite counter. After sorting through the assorted bills and bank statements, my hand latched onto a manilla envelope and extended it her direction. She crept it into view and precariously unwrapped the bindings that held shut the top flap. She reached in, unveiled a packet of official papers, and peered at it for a long while. Her foot began to shake on its toes as she brought it the documents to her side.
“...This is your rebirth.” Her guess intrigued me.
“No, no, Elizabeth. This is my creation. With these hands I have beget life. I have fostered an environment where something other than myself can thrive. But, I cannot simply nurture the existence of others alone any longer.”
“You seek to destroy as well.”
“Some people choose to create. Others choose to destroy. Their biggest mistake is believing that these things are mutually exclusive. I refuse to choose between one or the other.”
Elizabeth fell silent for a long period of time. Her eyes widened and her pupils gazed into mine. She shook her head and, finally, exhaled all of the air in her chest.
“You want to play God.” For someone so wise, she was painfully oblivious.
“Who says that I’m playing?”
-----
A single smoking chair rests in the middle of cluttered study. Inside it, a stranger sits, his right leg crossed over his left. He is dressed in tight fitting suit pants, a dark red dress shirt, and a skinny, black blazer. His orange hair is thrown into every direction, and a manic glare radiates from his face, his eyes, surrounded with eyeliner, unblinking against the world.
“I suppose you’re wondering who I am.” He taunts.
Around him, the walls are hidden behind rustic bookshelves, each row filled with a collection of alphabetically assorted books and devilish looking trinkets. Behind the chair, a large, stained, black desk looms. On its surface, books and documents lay scattered, but something more rests upon it as well. There is what appears to be mounds of soil covering its contents, hiding the human touches underneath bits of earth. The floor, refined and polished concrete, reveals the same invasion of the outside world.
“My name is Cameron. Welcome to my home.” For many, these are the first words heard from Cameron Behringer. This fact is something he finds excessive joy in. He bends over the left side of the chair and scoops up a handful of the fertile soil in his already darkened hand. He extends his arm towards the audience and reveals a growing sapling reaching toward the ceiling.
“Humans are not so unlike these plants in our business.” He notes, “When we begin, we are nothing. We are small and insignificant, inconsequential to the world around us. We are thrown haplessly into the ground, and it is by nothing short of a miracle that we extend further into the future.” Cameron sighs and tilts his head, staring at the small, green nubs that reach from the roots.
“After a while of simply surviving, after what becomes an eternity of planting ourselves firmly, if we are lucky, we grow. We, as humans, do not grow just to survive, but to surpass. Our home at the base of the world is no longer suitable to our desires, so we reach. Sometimes, we become.” He licks his lips and smiles, reaching over to dump the soil back onto the floor.
“And when we do, our bodies build upon themselves, our instincts take over, and, eventually, we are unrecognizable from the new batch of seeds that follow us...” Cameron pauses and clenches his teeth. His fists are soon to follow.
“But, I recognize you. I recognize all of you: the poor little saplings that you are. You are the ones that lay inches below the ground, but do not grow. You are the potential births that never truly become. I see you, dormant ones.” He closes his eyes and raises his hand, tapping his pointer finger against his forehead.
“I know who you are because I am not the aching tree that sways upon the storm. I am the lightning that strikes it down, and I am the brushfire that breathes death, and I am the wave that crashes upon your shores. I am not the remnants of this earth; I am the one who reduces them to char.” He sneers.
“And I have traversed this world a thousand times over. I assure you that I have been here before. I have stood amongst the collection of new faces, starting their lives in new places, and I have wondered. Now, I wonder, again, if the four of you understand the consequence of your beginnings.” He opens his eyes and runs his hands down the sides of his face.
“How could you? Yet, there is one amongst the lot of you who may know what she has done.” He exhales through his mouth and grins, “Hello, Lexi. I’ve been watching you.”
Cameron brings his hands together at the fingertips and shakes his head, “You’re not like the others. You’ve been here before, too. I can tell.” He brings his leg down to the floor and leans forward, his body beginning to gently rock.
“I could tell when you spoke so confidently to Tyler Storm. As you told him why you were going to defeat him, I heard it: I heard the tone of past endeavor. I knew that you would dominate that pitiful man-child before your voice ceased, but tell me, darling… was it worth it?” Cameron pauses and looks toward the ground, his eyes widening.
“I wish you hadn’t - beaten Tyler Storm, of course. You gave Visionaries of Wrestling a misguided reason to place your body before me. You, in all of your wisdom, roundhouse kicked yourself into a contendership opportunity. How were you to know that I would come? How were you to know that you’d be the most intelligent person for a single match, then watch helplessly on at I made my presence known? I pity you, more than the others, darling.” Cameron’s excitement dissipates from his face and his features begin to morph. His breathing slows and his head shifts violently to the left. He snarls and lifts his gaze back up, his eyes now squinting.
“In many cultures, human sacrifice is a crucial part of spirituality. The blood and body are taken from their holder to please the Gods. If the specimen is sufficient, the Gods return the slaughter with the gift of life and fortune. At the Hammerstein Ballroom, in New York, a modern sacrifice will bless the eyes of VoW’s audience. For Fate of the Gods, I have been given four victims, four unsuspecting piles of bone. I have but one disciple, and I am but one God, so I will use mine own hands to tear the consciousness and breath from Ace Watson, Chris Mosh, and Feolan O’Hannigáin. Then, I will come for you, Lexi Pearl. I will be pleased by nothing more than lying down the ‘Oncoming Storm’ and ‘Mistress of Mayhem.’ Lexi-” Cameron stands and cracks his neck.
“Kiss me, and you shall know I do not cease for something as fickle as death.”
